Here's what happened. I was walking down the road, minding my own, listening to something like this on the earbuds. I was mellow. Reflective. Not ready to throw down. But then came a running high-as-a-Lohan-sister nut-job running down 23rd, causing havoc, attacking civilians. Something had to be done.
Alright, punk ... I pressed pause on my iPod and cracked my knuckles. Let's do this.
"My writing is nothing, my boxing is everything."
Papa Hemingway

