Good Music

Good music knows no genre. Good music knows no race. Good music knows no gender. Good music knows no nationality. Good music knows no tax bracket. That's why good music is good music... Just vibe people

There was once an emperor. A great and mighty emperor. He had conquered every corner of the earth. Seeing his great and vast empire he was saddened. His only true enjoyment in life was war. The tearing down of any nation which stood in his way. He was saddened further when he realized that, once a revered warlord, he was now a powerless figurehead. Just a face on a coin. In a bout of terrible depression he decided to hang himself. But our hero, forever a romantic, he told his wife. He noticed his wife was taken aback by his statement, so he explained himself. She knew his mind was set. Knowing her husband and his stubborn ways. Her best hope of being with him any longer was postponing his death, so one night she devised a plan. In the morning, she told him that she had accepted his decision, but she had a stipulation. "No great man may die without great last words" she said. "This is true my wife, but i am no great man, my only great deed was war. and i have no wars to fight." "Now i am but a peasant in fine clothing" He replied. "Peasant? You are ruler of the known world. Now I shan't have you dying without decent last words" She declared. "All right woman i'll do as you say" he grumbled. "One last thing dear, bring each note you write to me."She said as regally as she could, while discussing her husband's mortality. He grumbled in agreement. Later that night he gave her a note."Clever, but no,my love" she chuckled tossing the note into the waste basket. "I thought i was saying what you wanted to hear." He replied with a sly smile. "You did, but 'I love you' simply won't cut it". She received a series of notes from him. Some good. Some seemed as if there was no effort. But none quite made the grain. It seemed as if there were no words worthy of the stature of man she saw in her husband. As weeks turned into months, and months turned into years, thousands of pieces of paper piled up, all of them met with a bleak "No, my love". But her plan had a sharp drawback. What had once been her plan to prolong her time with her husband had changed him. The man that sat on the edge if their bed scribbling furiously was no longer her husband. "What is your trouble, my love?" she asked. "YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT MY TROUBLE IS,WENCH! YOU SET THIS TASK, THIS IMPOSSIBLE TASK BEFORE ME! I SHOULD HANG MYSELF NOW! THIS DAMNED WORLD HOLDS NOTHING FOR ME!" he screamed at her. She solemnly walked over to his writing table. shifting through the papers, she pulled strip from the pile. With tears in her eyes she said "This one".  He leapt from the bed "Which one?" he asked frantically grabbing at the strip of paper. When he looked at it he was first confused, a few seconds he understood. they held each other, tears streaming down their cheeks, and smiles on their faces. "When do you suppose you'll do it?" she choked out. "Tonight,and please, could you step out?  I wouldn't want you to see me in that state."he said. they kissed. and she stepped out. the second she closed the door, she feel to the ground and wept. On the other side of the door her husband, dressed in his finest clothing, hung. His fist to his now unbeating heart. Holding a strip of blank paper

BANG!

You and two friends are playing a game of Russian roulette. There are three bullets, and three empty slots. One friend whirls the cylinder and pulls the trigger BANG! Now he's dead. It's your other friends turn now. He's a bit shaken and scared, but all of you knew the possibilities when you went in. He grabs the pistol after a minute which felt like an hour. He pulls it to his head. Sweating profusely,he whirls the cylinder and pulls the trigger. BANG! Now he's dead. It's you alone with a revolver in hand and two dead friends on either side. Do you do it? Do you pull the trigger? Hell, the chances of it being an empty chamber are 5-1 now. The odds are on your side. you feel braver knowing that. You raise the revolver to your head. But first. You decide to check the cylinder. there are four bullets and two empty cylinders.That means it was full when you started you look to the corpses beside you, it could have been either of them. You realize it really didn't matter. You realize nothing REALLY matters. All the things we've done. All of our experiences ultimately culminate to one thing. Death. knowing this, do you do it? Do you pull the trigger?....BANG!