Today I heard my mother singing little nursery rhymes to my niece. All of a sudden a chill raced down my spine. Like Sandusky entering a middle school, shock took over my body. I’ve always been told your past is what makes you who you are. It wasn’t all fairy tales and jungle gyms growing up. Anyone with the first name of Michael or Peter has short tempers built into them. Feel free to blame any little asshole singing “Michael Michael motor cycle, turn the key and watch him pee.” Like really? Who’s the sick jerk now? I’m minding my own business swinging on the swings, trying to impress a few broads by flying through the air and going the distance and you’re singing this shit to me? Back off bro, or you’ll be eating a mouthful of sand. My own blood line (Brothers) use to say this shit to me on a regular basis. Luckily I was comforted by the real man in my house (Dad) who told me to ignore it, that he had the same troubles growing up. Well it’s nice to know the two alpha males in this house can relate. He informed me back in the day he used to hear “Peter Peter pumpkin eater, had a wife and couldn’t keep her.” So if you ever meet a Mike or Pete and he seems a little off beat and whacked, it’s because punks like you people made us grow up tough . . . FORD TOUGH!
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