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.
Tag Archives: Black Humor
Rape Culture?
I was the star of my football team
Through high school and beyond.
I was six-foot four, 400 pounds…
When I walked I shook the floor.
When I got to college
I tried out for the offensive line
But apparently “make me a sandwich”
Had been used, and I was declined.
I dieted, I exercised,
I worked both day and night.
I dropped to a mere 250 pounds
And practiced catching right.
I came back my sophomore year
And became the team’s tight end.
I got a jersey and a girlfriend.
I thought my life was on the mend.
But, through football player logic,
I thought some heads needed a dent.
The police disagreed with me
So off to jail I went.
Now four years later I return,
No longer a brawler or deceiver.
You may go to jail a tight end
But you return a wide receiver.
Filed under Poems
An Excerpt From Baltimore’s “Most Popular Baby Names”
I really don’t think I shoulda
Named my child Barracuda.
At first I thought I’d go with Sid,”
And now I wish did,
But when I named him I was living in the hood-a.
Filed under Poems
Logic, American Dream Style
Monday through Friday
My heart’s only dread
Is that midmorning song
That says “get out of bed.”
Yet come days of Satur
And as well days of Sun
My heart sings in the morning
‘Til the day is all done.
For when clocks of alarm
Cracks serenity’s hold
And says “put on your clothes
“And go do what you’re told”
My vigor and pep
Aren’t what they used to be
Like when I was a child
And still blissfully free.
When instead of alarms
To the sun I awaken
And instead of my job
I get pancakes and bacon
My bliss flows more freely
And I feel stronger.
From now on I’ll work weekends
And be miserable longer.
Filed under Poems
Lullaby For A Cynical Man-Child
Grizzly bear
Sitting there
Playing with
My ex-wife’s hair.
He seems happy.
She seems dead.
Yes I’m morbid.
Now, off to bed.
Filed under Poems
Mr. Lecter Helps Educate Recent Graduates
“Do what makes you happy”
Is what my first psychiatrist said,
So can you really blame me
When the shrink ended up all dead?
Filed under Poems
Oxymoron Of The Week: Religious Humor
A religious type of joke
Is often what offends
An amazing group of people’s
Imaginary friends.
I will mock all religions
In this poem I now write
Except, or course, for Islam
‘Cause I’m flammable and white.
I saw a gay pride event
As I was walking to my car.
They’d gathered ’round the Catholic Church
So the priests needn’t walk too far.
I wanted to amuse a Jewish bloke
And so I took a stab. I
Think they might have laughed had I
Not tried to high-five the Rabbi.
I met a “spiritual but not religious”
Person just the other day.
I asked them “is my latte ready?”
They said “yes, now go away.”
I’m not sure about Agnostics.
If Skeptics have jokes, I don’t know ’em.
The Buddhists suffer eternally
Whether or not they read this poem.
I want to end with one last joke
To make you giggle or scoff:
Don’t get circumcised on a budget
‘Cause it might be a rip off.
Yes, And: Suicide Prevention
I said to my therapist
“I want to end it all,
To solve all of my problems
With a gun and/or a fall.”
My therapist nodded grimly,
Stared up at the ceiling fan,
And said “well, you’ve convinced me.
Thanks a million, man!”
In the end, I didn’t kill myself,
As nice as that would be
‘Cause when I die another problem
Will be waiting there for me.
Filed under Poems
…Until You Fall Asleep
Is it evil to hate those
Who collide at high speed
And slow down the traffic
On your way to work?
If you type “Lol”
When you mean “I hope you bleed,”
Is that being human
Or being a jerk?
If somebody pokes you
And you grab their head
And crush it with gusto
In an industrial vice,
Or set them on fire
And chant “Presto Combusto”
Is that so wrong?
Ok… I’ll be nice…
Filed under Poems
‘Twas the Month Before Christmas
The reindeer grew impatient.
They’d not flown for a year,
And so had entertained themselves
With dirty jokes and beer.
The big night was six weeks away.
They wanted to hit the gym,
But they had to have permission from
The one, the only… Him.
So Cupid and Vixen volunteered
To do some good deer/bad deer
And get their training authorized
By mister snowy-white beard.
“Mista Claus?” Cupid asked
In her Boston reindeer drawl.
“Our bellies all got really big
And our muscles super small.”
The big red suit stayed silent
Giving no indication,
So Vixen thought the time was ripe
For some intimidation.
She leapt upon his table
And wished that she had antlers.
She smashed a few of Santa’s toys
And three vodka decanters.
Cupid saw it coming
But a few seconds too late:
Santa’s eyes got angry,
And Vixen was served on a plate.
Seven subdued reindeer
Resumed their aimless days,
Their hopes of strength forsaken
By the mounting Christmas haze.
Four weeks later, the seven awoke
To a burning reddish glare.
A red-nosed reindeer robot
Was flying through the air.
They knew at once they’d been replaced,
And that they’d have to go
To avoid poor Vixen’s fate,
Come the next Ho-Ho-Ho.
So somewhere in Alaska
Seven flabby caribou
Seek someone to fly away with them.
Perhaps it will be you?
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 