My friend Indio Poet is a true LA stuntman.  The man has leapt across buildings in a single bound.  He’s also beaten people senseless and been shot and stabbed repeatedly, and we’re not talking about a movie set, people.  This guy is old school.  To hear him put it, he’s not only a renaissance man, he’s a man with nine lives.

I’m not quite sure how Indio and I became friends.  Mind you, I’m not knocking it.  He’s done more living being in LA than I’ll ever do trapped in the Midwest.  Originally from Boston (“that’s a wicked piss-ah, Michael”), Indio fell into acting while still in school.

Like any good actor, he followed his dreams to the west coast.  His pedigree is a mile long too.  I’ll guarantee you’ve probably seen him be surly in a movie or two … or ten.  He’s THAT guy.  He’s played a thug, several white supremacists, a bouncer, another thug, multiple convicts, a bodyguard and more gangbangers than you can shake a stick at.  At first I had a hard time looking him in the eye because he’s that intimidating.  He’s one of those guys you absolutely do NOT want to meet in a dark alley.  However, if you suddenly find yourself trapped in a dark alley … you’d better hope to GOD Indio is there to save your sorry ass.  He’s a Goombah with a heart of gold.

When he’s not raping, pillaging or destroying, Indio is a dad and a very spiritual musician.   Specifically, he’s a songwriter and rapper.  (I told you he was the Man of La Mancha!  Try and keep up, everyone.)  When you have a last name like Poet … I would hope you have the ability to rhyme, yes?

He wrote a poem/rap song for me.  Very thoughtful, eh?  It was about a no-tell hotel, several ho’s and a 60-inch plasma screen TV.   (Or as I call it Thursday.)   In the lyrics, he made very good use of my name … peppering in “Mac” and “MacDaddy” often.  He’s made several music videos and is working on another.   He’s pretty fly, for a white guy.

We would have hung out longer last night, but he had to get up early to be hurled down a ravine or something.  Or maybe it was impale someone with a pitchfork?  Oh, who knows?  All in a days work.