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Joe Budden Saw My Tweet Telling Him To Suck My Ass, So I'm On A Train To Canada

By now, you’ve probably heard of “Offended: The Musical.” To be clear, it’s not really a musical. A few people have said “fuck this podcast, I hate musicals. I don’t like anything that gay people like. I’m straight. I unscrew mustard jars for old women with weak wrists. I’ve seen every war movie there is and would have enlisted had my left-handedness not disqualified me. I did hard time, witnessed atrocities in the showers, and attacked a guard dog to earn solitary confinement so nobody could watch me shit in the open.” I would encourage these homosexuals to reconsider, to give it a listen. It’s stories, banter, and the occasional song. Fun for all!

We debuted at #1 on the music podcast charts. It pleased me to no end to see such names as producing legend Rick Rubin, supernerd Malcolm Gladwell, and JOE BUDDEN usurped by our podcast. I recognize that the iTunes algorithm favors new podcasts and kicked us to the front, but a layman could see this list and think Rone and I were better musicians/podcasters than Joe Budden himself. In a fit of bravado, I tweeted my exaltation, taking a not-so-subtle shot at Mr. Budden as I told him to “suck my ass.” Now, sucking ass is a lot like grabbing pussy: it’s logistically difficult. You’d have to inhale extremely hard. Most people don’t have a cratered asshole that provides raised peaks upon which to find purchase with your mouth. You’re basically trying to turn that thing inside-out if you really mean it. Sure, you can suck on a cheek for a minute, but that gets old quick. But if there’s anyone on earth who knows how to suck an ass, it’s Joe Budden. And I mean that as a compliment.

I didn’t @ him out of fear. Joe Budden is an intimidating man. He came into the office once, and NOBODY asked for a picture out of respect. We all saw the video of him chasing down those kids:

“This is not the internet. I will kill one of you.”

This is my dream. Problem is, if I’m in this scene, I’m chasing these trolls on a polo pony through the streets, trying not to spill my glass of soylent while phoning my father’s attorney the license plate number of my detractors. It’s not as intimidating.

Then there was the time he challenged all of the Migos at the BET awards:

Can you imagine if that fight had actually happened? Would have sounded like a tambourine band with all that jewelry clanking and clonking. I think Budden wins on sheer aerodynamics.

Point is, Joe Budden is to beating me up what I am to police officers letting me off with a warning: it’s happening. And although he appears to have taken it quite well–even going so far as congratulate us–I suspect this is just a misdirect to throw me off the scent. As such, I’m on my way to Canada. I won’t say which province/territory because that defeats the purpose. But I’ll be yurt-hopping for the foreseeable future. Always on the move, always looking over my shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. It won’t be much of a life but it beats stumbling around with a prolapsed anus that Joe Budden sucked out with a plunger.

PS- new episode today, subscribe!