Shakey Jake Woods was an Ann Arbor busker, a downtown fixture in a purple velvet suit and a guitar on his back, and anybody who lived or went to school at the University of Michigan knew him. He was there for decades. Well, he died a few weeks ago. Finally. All the Birkenstock wearing, Vulva drivin', yoga twistin' dipshits had bumper stickers on their cars saying "I Brake for Jake". Every newspaper had a page dedicated to him, the beloved Shakey Jake, as if he were this jazz icon, this sage. Nothing, but nothing, parallels the bathos and pomposity of the bullshit posted about this horrible sewer dweller than the "Chicago Tribune".http://blogs.chicagotribune.com/news_columnists_ezorn/2007/09/shakey-jake-woo.html
Okay, Fuckchics, I was there, man. I lived it. I still have flashbacks, man. I still have the scars. If you weren't there, man, shut the fuck up. I love the Chicago Gentleman who says he "drank wine and played guitar" with Jake. Uh... you wouldn't share Jake's bottle, dude. Jake didn't have any front teeth. And you COULDN'T PLAY GUITAR WITH HIM BECAUSE HIS GUITAR DIDN'T HAVE ANY FUCKING STRINGS, YOU FUCKING WINDY CITY LYING PIECE OF SHIT.
A woman could not walk past Jake without being groped. So, you'd get a dollar out of your pocket, extend your arm and hold it out to him and "pay your toll". And after I packed on my freshman 20#, Jake started saying, "Thanks, Tiny," and I would say, "Fuck you, Jake," And he'd cackle.
I was dancing at Joe's Star Lounge one night... by the way, if any of you Chicago poofters ever ventured into Joe's on Main, I'll blow you and eat out your emaciated wife while you film it... and in walks Jake. He shimmies up to the dance floor, grabs my girlfriend's hand, spins her around then rocks and rolls out of the door again. 3 minutes later she screams, "My ring is gone!"
It was at that time I came up with idea to print bumper stickers to correct the balance of the universe. Not "I Brake for Jake" but "I ACCELERATE FOR JAKE". Unfortunately, people who agreed with me didn't own a vehicle.
Oh, rest in peace, you fucker.
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