Plastic Parade (a poem)

duck-face-mom-yearA-typical Rolex submariner sits on the dad’s wrist like a beacon of arrival,
his too-tight Ed Hardy tee sticks to his cross fit chest like an extra layer of skin.
those hours in the gym, the broccoli, the grilled chicken, the spinach salads……
Eyes scanning the crowd looking for that 25 year-old who hasn’t yet sunk the botox into her forehead

Wifey to his left, flipping her platinum dyed hair again and again and again
She, looking for someone to make fun of, looking for someone to help her feel better about her collagen duck-faced lips,

her third tit job, her fourth anal bleaching, her fifth affair with a new trainer,Tattoo reads “MILF” along the panty line that only a select 50 or so willing erections get to see.

She, peering at the younger women while licking her lips with the misguided confidence of an American Idol contestant

Continue reading


Duh’Merica (a poem)

DUH’merica, what have you done?

While you parade the streets in gas guzzling suburbans, there are soldiers dying around the world trying to kill dark-skinned people after taking orders from fat, pasty-white politicians who only care about their offshore bank accounts.

DUH’merica, why don’t you care?

That our children have difficulty finding China on a map, but they can update their Facebook status perfectly while crossing a busy city street without getting splattered in traffic.

DUH’merica, why can’t you turn it off?

The Kardashians, TMZ, The Bachelor, American Idol, America’s Got Talent sift through the minds of our youth like a slow, neurotoxin eating them from the inside out. Continue reading

all cats are probably gay

catprancing down the street, with a constant look of “I’m better than you bitch.”                              

laying on the grass in the front yard, deliberately flipping their tails back and forth inviting you to pet their stomach,                                      

then as you oblige, they scratch you like a mad queen who was just told he was “chunky”                           

they flutter past you, deliberately brushing your leg for attention with their tail high in the air exposing their asshole, an asshole that looks like a banana that’s been split in half                   

I’ve yet to see a cat who appeared masculine in any way, nor have I ever heard a cat meow in a deep voice like the Allstate guy                                                                    (I’m fairly certain that All Cats (Domestic) Are Probably Gay)

Hey Parents!!!! (a study in racial insensitivity)

I’m a parent, so I feel qualified to deliver this rant.  Some parents should never have been allowed to breed. I’m going to attempt to offend as many ethnicities as possible.  You are welcome in advance.

Hey White Trash Parents (this also applies to Rednecks),  they are called “socks”, please put them on your children when you leave the house.  Children with dirty, 7-11 feet become adults with dirty, 7-11 feet.

What parenting book did you read that said it was alright to take your children to Wal-Mart with bare feet in a diaper?  Shit, my bad, I actually insinuated that you have read a book.  Silly me.

And look, it’s not alright to keep breastfeeding your 8 year-old just because you ran out of Mountain Dew.

And by the way, make sure you keep your 12 foot python’s cage locked, it’s plenty big enough to gobble up half of your family…… unless of course your pit bull gets them first.

Hey Black Mamma (sorry, but the dad’s are rarely around and that’s not my fault), put your shoe back on stop throwing it at little Tyrone as he runs around the meat market looking for the pickled pigs feet.  Continue reading

Most Overrated Bands

Like most people, I love music.  I understand that everyone has different tastes, but there are several bands that I think absolutely suck giant donkey balls who are incredibly famous.  I just don’t get it.  Please, somebody help me.

Here’s my list of overrated bands, in no particular order:

Aerosmith– An androgynous lead singer and one of their most famous songs is called “Love in an Elevator”.  Come on people, that’s just ridiculous.  And ladies, Steven Tyler is not hot by any stretch of the imagination.  Did you notice him ogling pre-teens as an American Idol judge?  Pure rock star there.

Bruce Springsteen“Born in the U.S.A.”, no shit Bruce, as if we couldn’t tell.  I refuse to listen to his music until he stops chewing on marbles.  Please, someone enlighten me as to what language he speaks.  Is it English, is it blue-collar Jersey, is it some form of white Ebonics? The best thing Bruce did was get his guitarist a lead role on the Sopranos.

The Smiths– no offense to homosexuals, but this band is as queer as a football bat.  The hair, the pageantry, the flitting around the microphone like it’s a luscious cock, need I say more?

The Rolling Stones– Yes, I went there.  Talk about a grotesques group of over-achievers, WOW.  Mick Jagger looks like a horribly miscalculated Muppett creation and Keith Richards looks like a cigarette that has been shoved up a homeless guys ass, dipped in Scotch and smoked yet again.  No band can stay together for 150 years and be considered great.

Oasis– What-the-fuck-ever.  Here’s the story morning glory.  You are a band of petulant, whiny, uni-brow wearing Brits who are dying to be Radiohead.  Please stay away from Glastonbury and do not attempt a comeback.  “Champagne Super Nova in the Sky?”  Exactly, I rest my case.

Thanks for listening to another one of my rants.  I appreciate it.

In case you were wondering, a few of my favorite bands are; The Pixies, Radiohead, G-Love and the Special Sauce, Sublime, Jimi Hendrix, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Mickey Avalon and Yellowman.  Hopefully they aren’t on your overrated list.

Destroying a toilet

(I have some deep-seeded public restroom issues.)

The Scene: My wife and I at a tapas restaurant sitting at the bar.

The Event: I felt a pain in my stomach that almost knocked me off my bar stool.  Although loud music playing in the bar area, I think everyone in the place could hear the rumble inside my belly.

It was like a mini-gastric-earthquake ripping through my body.  I dropped my pants and the second my pasty, white cheeks touched the porcelain seat, EXPLOSION!!!  It was like a giant cow patty.  Final, relief was mine…….. for the moment.

The Problem: I cleaned myself and reached to flush.  HOLY, FUCKING, SHIT………… the toilet would not flush. MAYDAY, MAYDAY………the toilet would not flush.

I pulled the back lid off and started tinkering with the mechanical innards, but nothing worked.  My cow patty was not going anywhere.

Decision time; I washed my hands quickly and carefully cracked the door to see if anyone was waiting in the hallway.  The coast was clear so I walked briskly back to the bar and stood next to my wife at the bat.

“Wow, that sure was a long pee.  Aren’t you going to sit down,” she said.

“Nope, it’s time to go.  We have to leave now,” I said as I put down plenty of cash next to our plates.

As we were walking out the door, I looked back over my shoulder and noticed a few employees gathering in the bathroom where I left my destruction.

Adventures at WalMart (a true story)

A while ago, I had to exchange a television at WalMart because the one I bought there a few days ago did not have a remote.  This should have been a truly easy task to accomplish; but idiocy, poor breeding and patriotism stood directly in my path.

Act I. The Beginning of the Transaction: I walked in with the television and my receipt and made my way to the customer service counter.

The employee was a young girl probably 19 or so with bad hair, but she was nice.  She took my receipt, stared at the “return/exchange” policy board behind her and told me that I had to exchange it for something that cost the exact same amount or something that costs more.

She explained that she couldn’t give me a refund in any way, shape or form.

“Whatever,” I thought to myself, I just wanted the exact same television, but this time with the remote it’s supposed to come with.

Act II. The Service Poodle:  I found the exact same television and made my way back to customer service to finalize the exchange.  Continue reading