Bob Dylan and Kanye West … sitting in a tree.


Hey ISIS … stop talking ish about my mom.
If you continue demonizing her name, I will end you.

I’ll load up my friends from Alabama and
Florida. We’ll all fly over there and throw down fisticuffs.

Do you know what it’s like to have wrathful good
old boys and girls chasing you down paved streets? No? I do. It sucks.

Not as bad as Kanye’s attitude, but yeah.
Hey Christians … stop getting pissed I don’t believe in Your God.

“O! M! G! … What? How dare he? There’s only one!”
No. I’m not listening to that. Shut … The Hell … Up.

To intolerant assholes: worship the grape.
Worship the wheat and the corn. Worship the mari-jah-wana.

Worship the balls … baseballs … footballs … go on ‘head.
I do not give un (that’s one in French) damn about things you do.

Unless your name’s Bob Dylan, in which case: Hey
Bob Dylan … best of luck on Letterman! Say hi to Megh, k?

The rest of you? If you need me just ask. I
am here to help my friends any way I can. Enemies too.

Even someone who’s as big of an asshole
as you … Kanye, I’d like to watch Shaq dunk a ball in your face.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering, yes. That was
a joke about you loving fish sticks in and around your mouth.

Ha ha ha. … Ha ha ha. … Ha ha ha. Ha. … Ha.
And then we count, like, 10 – 9 – 8 – 7 – 6 – 5 – 4 – 3 – 2…


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