Since it's Father's day, The Suffra would like to take a moment to honor the man that dragged him into this world, by the ears and against the doctor's wishes, while screaming,
"OK Fuckin out already, I'mma be late fo work."
So The Suffra raises his glass and proposes a toast,
to the man that taught him how to hold a cigarette and a beer in one hand,
and a cigarette and a beer in the other.
To the man who taught him to stick to Marboro; the man's brand.
and to treat every greek like a brother.
To the man who singehandedly brought back the open button down with no t-shirt look,
and a pile of gold-chains hidden in his chest hair.
To the man who sees olive oil as a staple ingredient for every cook,
and rests his arms on a seperate chair....
and most of all, to the guy who thinks poetry is retarded, so it's time to explain The Suffra's dad properly, in true Suffra fashion:
Suffra's Dad's Quick Stats:
A rough and tumblin old cowboy, who can gracefully and poetical murder the english language with such classic phrases as, "go round the nother way," and, "I'm tell you."
His complete disrespect to the world around him would always manifest itself on parent teacher day in gradeschool, when he'd show up to class in his pit-stained v-neck workshirt and see how far he could smoke a cigarette before the teacher tried to stop him.
A true European, he knew what was important in life. Which is why, when he realized his sons didn't even know what the true meaning of the word football is, he decided to take them out on the front lawn and kick soccerballs at their heads, and giggle as they cried in front of all the neighbors. Kicking a perfectly arced soccerball directly lined up with the young Suffra's nose he'd scream, "Ella Rey Suffros, NO HANDS." Forcing the young child to drop his guard and take the force straight to the face...
so one last time, a proper toast:
to the man who
needs to own every form of technology without being able to use it.
grows his pinky nails long so as to form a proper scoop for his nose and ears.
tells his son he can be anything he wants, as long as it's a lawyer or doctor.
and most of all, to the man who will absolutely never figure out how to turn on a computer, let alone find his son's website and beat the everloving shit out of him for writing this nonsense.
"OK Fuckin out already, I'mma be late fo work."
So The Suffra raises his glass and proposes a toast,
to the man that taught him how to hold a cigarette and a beer in one hand,
and a cigarette and a beer in the other.
To the man who taught him to stick to Marboro; the man's brand.
and to treat every greek like a brother.
To the man who singehandedly brought back the open button down with no t-shirt look,
and a pile of gold-chains hidden in his chest hair.
To the man who sees olive oil as a staple ingredient for every cook,
and rests his arms on a seperate chair....
and most of all, to the guy who thinks poetry is retarded, so it's time to explain The Suffra's dad properly, in true Suffra fashion:
Suffra's Dad's Quick Stats:
A rough and tumblin old cowboy, who can gracefully and poetical murder the english language with such classic phrases as, "go round the nother way," and, "I'm tell you."
His complete disrespect to the world around him would always manifest itself on parent teacher day in gradeschool, when he'd show up to class in his pit-stained v-neck workshirt and see how far he could smoke a cigarette before the teacher tried to stop him.
A true European, he knew what was important in life. Which is why, when he realized his sons didn't even know what the true meaning of the word football is, he decided to take them out on the front lawn and kick soccerballs at their heads, and giggle as they cried in front of all the neighbors. Kicking a perfectly arced soccerball directly lined up with the young Suffra's nose he'd scream, "Ella Rey Suffros, NO HANDS." Forcing the young child to drop his guard and take the force straight to the face...
so one last time, a proper toast:
to the man who
needs to own every form of technology without being able to use it.
grows his pinky nails long so as to form a proper scoop for his nose and ears.
tells his son he can be anything he wants, as long as it's a lawyer or doctor.
and most of all, to the man who will absolutely never figure out how to turn on a computer, let alone find his son's website and beat the everloving shit out of him for writing this nonsense.
