Monthly Archives: July 2013

Walk On By

Scene: The Stoop (or front steps) of Baltimore Rowhome

Time: Hot Summer Afternoon

GENE sits on steps, drinks Natty-Boh from can. JEAN, walks by, her unbuttoned shirt blowing open.

Gene watches her go by, shakes head, drinks his beer.

Jean walks back to stoop.

JEAN: Stop thinking what you’re thinking.

GENE: What? You don’t know what I’m thinking.

JEAN: You’re thinking about my breasts.

GENE: Oh, you do know.


GENE: Sorry.


GENE: It’s just that you have very nice breasts.

Jean slaps Gene across the face. Then Gene, touches his cheek then drinks his beer. They both smile.

End of Play

Royal Pain in the Ass

OMG a new royal baby has been born!

And before I go any further, and I will, I wish best health on the baby, the family and a wonder life to all — all babies, all families.

That said, WHAT THE FUCK!

I have several reasons for my discust, especially in Amerira, at the birthing of a baby in england, 3rd in line to the thrown.

  1. Wasn’t this country founded on an revolt from the very thing.  We fought and killed to be free of the simple minded tyrany of this group of (some may say inbred) royalist who were given gold because of the womb the came out of.  (that’s like giving a one billion dollar lottery prize to — ah, fuck, it’s like giving a kingdom to an idiot — shit, not that I think or wish the new baby an idiot, but whatever, he’s just a baby born today among the 1000s of babies born today.)
  2. Was it nice to see Prince William hold the new baby boy?  I mean, yes, feature king holding a future king — one is a cute baby faced boy, with not much hair… and the other was the baby.
  3. Kate still looked great, didn’t she?
  4. They make a really fairy tale couple.
  5. Oh, no!  Now, I’m doing it.  Ahhhh.
  6. OK, we all love a royal baby.
  7. There I said it.

No, I’m just kidding, stop the British madness your crazy Americans.


My Truck (bad poetry)

My truck is so big
My truck is bigger than your truck
Louder than your truck
Tougher than yours, too, so get out of my way

My truck hauls ass
Eats gas
Smokes grass

Its so high up you need a ladder to climb in…
I mean, you do; I don’t
My truck is in front of you
So you can see

My truck has steel testicles
Hanging from the rear bumper
Well, actually the tow bar, but I alway say bumper
The point is, what I’m saying is, is that my truck has balls

My truck is a Ford
My truck is my Lord
My truck is an F-U-250

Slow Vac (bad poetry)

Behind the cobwebs of your soul
Inside everyone’s one special one
Inside of that

Somewhere where wearing wares wears-you-out
Like watching, until you give in to,
That commercial from Czechoslovakia that buys gold
Through the mail (illegal)
And sends money (illegal)
Through the mail (illegal)
So, a check’s in the mail from a Czech who’s in jail

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, like sucking up
The Cobwebs
Slovak with a slow vac