THE BUMRUSH

Another one of the Maximus' gems. Maybe he'll get up off his ass soon and write some new poetry. The fucker thinks just cuase he's getting married means that he can jerk it instead of writing the Bumrush... Anyway, onto the work of Maximus.

Streetfighter

I'm a Streetfighter baby
That's my game
I do it for money
I do it for fame
You're crying' baby, ain't it a shame
But I'm Superman
We're one in the same

You don't have to worry cuz
I ain't gonna lose
So shut yo bitch mouth and pour me some booze
Those fuckin' punks, yeah, they fall when I choose
Now get over here and let me squeeze that good luck caboose

I'm a Streetfighter baby
It's how I pay the bills
Some fools can't do it
But I sure as hell will
You know me baby, I gots the skills
I'm a fighter through and through, I love
And I kill

Labels: bumrush, maximus

Here is a classic from the Maximus. Enjoy.

Ode to Leather Jackets and Talking Cars

Michael, Michael, where are you?
I don't remember telling you to shoo
I turn the tv to seventeen
Still you're nowhere to be seen

Where is Devon? Where is Bonnie?
You know I mean the brunette hottie.
Most important you son of a bitch
What the hell you do with Kitt?

Hasselhoff, once you had it all
I guess that Baywatch was your fall
Soaking up the rays with Pam
Made you think you were the man

The sun must have gotten to you head
Cuz your days of fightin' crime are dead
You used to talk to your sweet black car
But now you gander from afar
As everyone else is living the life of a star
And you just suck.

Dumbass.

Labels: bumrush, hasselhoff, hoff, maximus

I recently received an email from blog co-contributor, Maximus. Like most of his verbal and non-verbal exchanges, it began with the threat of violence:

We've been playing a little phone tag. I'm gonna play some aluminum bat tag with your face

Pleasant intro, huh? Now, typically, when someone threatens me (which happens a lot, just trust me) I don’t get scared because I’m like Steven Segal with the slow-mo kung-fu action. But the Maximus’s threat is particularly laughable because I know for a fact that he swings a bat like he’s catching butterflies with his sister. Maybe if I could put my face on a little league baseball tee, he might have a shot at it, but he’d likely be swinging a wiffleball bat or the aforementioned butterfly net. You know… something he likes to get his hands around. Like a penis.

It hurts because it’s true.

-Biggs

Labels: maximus