Monthly Archives: October 2017

The Real Darkness Approaches…

Once a year we celebrate

The gruesome and bizarre,

The stuff that gives clowns nightmares

And makes wolves hide under cars.

We make light of the horrific,

Let go the values we hold dear…

We call this celebration “tax day”

And it’ll come in half a year.

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Meanwhile, Sales Of Potato Peelers Among Vengeful Ex-Lovers Skyrocket

You ask me how I got these cars.

I say “at the Chevy dealer.”

Then I realize you said “scars”

And I say “potato peeler.”

I now know two things very well:

I look like an evil clown

And local sales of Chevrolets

Are going to go way down.

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That’s Pronounced “She-it”

Apparently my teachers were wrong

And there aren’t boys and girls.

Turns out gender is “representational,”

Or so the new story unfurls.

Seeing that sex doesn’t matter

To whether you’re he, she, or other

I think we need a singular pronoun

That applies equally to one another.

In the past we were male and female

And likewise called he or she.

Apparently the gender-neutral

Is also important, so they tell me.

So I have an unbiased option

To represent them, me, and you:

We can just say humans are SHeIt.

It has all three pronouns, and also is true!

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*With The Exception Of A Few (You Know Who You Are), This Was More A Matter Of Finding A Proper Rhyme Than Actual Disrespect

I respect dumbells.

They have a valuable job.

By lifting them up we grow stronger

Faster than eating corn on the cob.

I don’t respect bad drivers

And people from Northeastern states*.

I suggest we rename them “dumbells”

And call dumbells “single-hand weights.”

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Yet More Stupid Wisdom

Those who live in glass houses

Should definitely throw stones

So they can collect insurance money

And use it to buy normal homes.

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Divorce, Basically

She liked the way he smiled

So she waited ’til he slept

Then grabbed a pair of scissors

And into his room she crept.

She scissored off his jawbone

And hung it on her wall.

Now he pays her alimony

And sees the kids once every Fall.

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Sometimes I Get Mated By A Horse… Hehe

The pawns do naught but marching,

And often do they fall

For little more than hoping

That they’ll become queen after all.

The knights and bishops frolick

In the middle of the war,

Killed quickly by the competent

Or else begin to snore.

The rooks are oh so deadly,

The queen more fatal still

For these are weapons useful

To those of any skill.

But in the end I’m happy

That kingliness fell to me.

For every win I get the credit

And if I lose I mate for free!

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