Open Lette to a Year (a poem)

Dear 2009,

Hell has come
High water has come
Death, destruction, and the end of the world
And yet, I remain standing.
I am going to cook those fucking turduckens.
Yeah, TurduckenS
PLURAL!
Nothing can stop this now.
I will keep calm and I will carry on.
I’ve dealt with pretty much everything in and around your borders
Dying relatives, new kittens, flooded houses, and more bullshit than I care to relate.
The Sick, The Elderly, the stupid and the strong
The good, the bad, the ugly and the adorable
I’ve dealt with a guy driving with the ghost of Adolph Hitler riding next to him.
I’ve dealt with a riveter who wants to fist someone up to the elbow.
And yet, here I stand.
My lights are still on.
As I said they would be.
I said you wouldn’t be able to crush my VEWPRF spirit
and you can’t.

I’ve got this bell, it rings.
I’ve got these candles, they chase away the dark
I’ve got this bloody-minded sense of determination, it starts to get a little bit scary after a while
My point is, you won’t sink this holiday.

You can go die in a fire 2009
You can go to hell
You can fuck right the fucking fuck off… fucker.

This is a musical pop- combo, yes? (a poem)

I would like it to be known that…
I listen to boring old music
On scratchy old records
I remember when there was no tv, we only had radio
And the movies were better when they were in black and white
We used to make our own fun when I was a boy
Everything was better when I was a kid
And that I am very, very, very old and out of touch
You may now all “Git offa my lahn!”

It’s quite possibly that only one of those statements is true. I’ll let you decide which one is the true one.

Bad Movie is BAD (a poem)

Hercules and the Captive Women is bad.
I mean really bad
Like ‘it almost broke me’ bad
But I have the power of Stan Bush
I have survived.
Seriously kids
DO NOT try this at home
I’ve got years of practice
and a serious case of insanity to keep me safe.

Outdated Dinosaurs (a poem)

I know pretty much all of Charles Knight’s pictures of dinosaurs are wrong.
I know that he represents an outdated view
I still like his works though
They represent the Dinos I grew up with
And an era gone by

I love the old and the outdated
Which should be no surprise to you
And I really need to get
A Crystal Palace Iguanodon model
Frankly, my desk demands it.

Actual Size (a poem)

I bought a book at Borders last night.
A big picture book about Dinosaurs.
One that is way too big.
Like 17×14 and a half inches big.
It’s just called Dinosaurs.
It was in the “We know you’ll never buy these, but you’d be disappointed if we didn’t offer them” section.
But I did buy it
Because of two words
Actual Size
The microraptor has a two page picture of it
And that picture is labeled MICRORAPTOR (actual size)
So for that reason alone I bought it.
It’s turning out to be a really nice book though.
They put feathers on T-Rex and made him look like a punk rocker
The book was printed in October 2008
This is the most up to date information we’ve got about them
We know they had feathers now
We were wrong all this time
It’s from a printing company in England
And the price is only labeled in pounds
But someone sold it here anyway
You can get it at Amazon.com and .co.uk
If you want to have a huge book about dinosaurs that is.
Or you want to see pictures of Archaeopteryx
In Actual Size

Today = AWESOME! (a poem)

The car has a coolant leak.
The car I just got back for minor body work from the shop, has a coolant leak.
Not a little leak, a massive leak.
Hol is going back to the insurance company tomorrow instead of work.
Cat’s tried to kill a mouse
And the turtles are stalking me.
Did I mention the turtles? I’ve seen 7 turtles today, every time I’ve gone outside there were turtles.
Big turtles,
Size of bread plates
HEY!
That’s pretty big for a painted turtle.
On the drive way
near the house
looking at me
got nothing to do with them laying eggs in the loose dirt around the house
Turtles know ninjistu man
They are STALKING ME!
And they hiss, one hissed at Holly when she picked it up after it tried to charge the car.
Seriously
And I’m about 5 hours overdue for my nap.
A nap I was going to take because I was 10 hours past bed time.
I’m tired, Fancy tired to kill a mouse, the car’s broke, the turtles are stalking me, today has been just fucking awesome.

That Moment (A Poem)

You know that moment.
That moment when you think
“Surely at some point they’re all going to notice I’m not wearing any pants.”
Only they never do
Because you are wearing pants
And you’re just being paranoid.
Seriously,
You need to see someone about that
People are talking.

Devil Pants – A Poem (Circa Dec. 15th, 2004, 02:39 am)

It’s hard to dance with the devil in your pants.
So very hard to dance, with the devil in your pants.
If you have to dance.
Take the devil from your pants.
Place the devil on a sponge.
And scrape him over grunge.
Then flush him down the can.
And you can dance once again.

This is possibly the stupidest poem I’ve ever written, and that’s saying something.

Always believe

Nothing is impossible
Except dividing by zero
And even then
We have ways…

Bacon (A Poem)

Bacon is yummy, I know.
Cookies are yummy, I know
Bacon cookies are probably yummy, I suspect.
However
BACON IN BAKED GOODS IS NOT NEW!
Do you know what shortening is?
It’s a vegetable oil substitute meant for baking and frying.
Do you know what it’s supposed to be substituting and is thus aping?
Lard.
Do you know what lard is?
IT’S RENDERED PIG FAT!
Putting pig fat into baked goods is an OLD FUCKING IDEA!
You have not innovated!
If anything, you’ve made a colossal step backward because you’ve also put vegetable shorting in your fucking bacon cookie when you could have used LARD!
This whole idea that you people somehow discovered bacon has to end and it MUST END NOW!
Not only is cooking with bacon an old fucking idea, your grandparents did it better.
Does anyone remember their grandmother keeping bacon fat in a can or anything so she could use it later?
Old idea.
Not new.
She didn’t waste the bacon grease.
She used it later.
Seriously.
Stop saying shit like “Bacon is awesome” and expecting someone to say “Yeah I know” like the two of you have discovered some secret culinary delight that no one has ever thought of before.
Bacon is not a fucking indie band!
Everyone knows about bacon*!
Bacon ≠ Modest Mouse!
STOP IT!
Or I’ll rend your fat and use you in a pie.
After I harvest your organs of course.
Can’t do this on no budget.
There’s a depression starting.
Got to get PAID!
Ya know?
Don’t cross me.
There’s still a few rich bankers in the world.
And some of them want your kidneys.

*Except for the Muslims and the Jews, but fuck them if they don’t know good food when they see it. I’m tired of their bullshit anyway. Sick of Hindus too. Just eat the fucking cow, that’s what they’re there for! Between those three groups I can’t get a bacon cheese burger in some places and that just shouldn’t happen. People who let God tell them what’s food deserve not eat well.