I could use this big, blank space to write about my A/C, which breaks at least twice each summer. (At least it got an early start this year.) Or about why I bought a roll of titanium today. Or about how I dragged Mom and Dad to the Deli, not realizing how packed and loud it would be with the Grizzlies/Clippers game going on.

But I won’t. Well, I mean, I just did. But no more than that.

Instead, one of my favorite non-deep-cut Beastie songs. RIP MCA.

From “No Sleep Till Brooklyn,” Beastie Boys, Licensed to Ill, 1986:

No sleep till … Brooklyn!

Foot on the pedal, never ever false metal,
Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle.
My job’s ain’t a job, it’s a damn good time.
City to city, I’m running my rhymes.
On location, touring around the nation,
Beastie Boys always on vacation.
Itchy trigger finger but a stable turntable.
I do what I do best because I’m illing and able.
Ain’t no faking, your money I’m taking,
Going coast to coast, watching all the girlies shaking.
While you’re at the job working 9 to 5,
The Beastie Boys at the Garden cold kickin’ it live.

No sleep till …

3MTA3 <3