Sometimes you go to the bathroom
To just get away from it all
Or sometimes you make a poop
That’s the color of Darth Maul.
They both take about the same time
To finish, which is alright.
I did one while writing this poem
So you’re welcome. Now good night.
Filed under Poems
I could pay money every month
To have access to a gym
Where I lift heavy objects
To feel pain within my limb
And when the lifting’s over
I can climb or bike or run
On a machine that makes it possible
To never feel done
Then I can take my clothes off
In a public locker room
And eat vegetables for breakfast…
Or I can stay home and play Doom.
Filed under Poems
Dear readers, it gives me great Pride(tm) that my blog, a long-time proponent of mediocrity in all forms, has chosen to partner with America’s favorite soft drink:
PIDD!
PIDD! (or Performance Inhibiting Drug Drink) has been taking the world by storm (consensually, of course). Inspired by brands like Disney, Bud Light, and OceanGate, PIDD! is sinking its teeth into all the things that once made you happy like:
The NBA (Nubile Boys of America)
MMA (Male Maidens Association)
UPS (Un-Penissing Service)
UN (United Nations)
And many more!
PIDD! is the only soft drink that makes you softer in both body and mind. It helped Lia Thomas become the first man to win the NCAA women’s 500m freestyle, helped Caitlyn Jenner become Glamour Magazine’s first male Woman of the Year, and now it can help your children become anything we want them to be!
So just like Luke Skywalker, Indiana Jones, James Bond, and the other heroes of your childhood, crack open a can of PIDD! (or pour a lukewarm glass of inner-city tap water) and let’s toast a future where men don’t have to stay that way.
Happy day to all the dads
Who once were childless as lads
And then got up to laddish things
‘Til onto Earth a baby springs.
Then they spend their waking hours
Changing diapers, buying flowers,
Playing dolls or playing truck
Depending on genetic luck.
As they age, the hair up here
Says “Nope, now I’ll grow out your ear.”
He buys cars for his offspring who
Repay him with a new tie. Whoo!
These things and more, both good and bad
Are part of what makes man a dad
But it is love, not merely fate,
That makes a dad we celebrate.
Filed under Poems
If your husband is pooping
And taking his time
So that hours have passed
And the scent is a crime
There’s no need to bother
With a knock or a shout;
His business will finish
When the Wifi goes out.
Filed under Poems
If I had breath like Godzilla
And my sneeze were a nuclear blast
I still wouldn’t like playing kickball
But at least I’d get picked before last.
Filed under Poems
My girl said “[Name]
“You can watch the game.”
Now I’m watching men skate
And good poems can wait.
Filed under Poems
Today’s the day that giant men
Who some describe as “ballers”
Get called by teams of athletes
To play games for millions of dollars
And older guys who used to play
And that one blonde chick enumerate
The reason why that particular guy
Will make their newfound team great.
Meanwhile, men who’re five-foot-two
But also weigh 300 pounds
Sit in bars and pound their chests
And buy each other rounds.
And somehow through the fog
Of testosterone and concealed erections
This moment matters more to most
Than national elections.
Filed under Poems
Snap crackle pop
Is the sound you hear
When you pour rice crispies
And have some fun.
Snap crackle pop
May also appear
When the mouse trap makes
Your husbandly duties done.
Filed under Poems
Fresh cut french fries,
Lavender breeze,
Dusty sweat after a ballgame,
The salt of the seas,
Lime, peaches, and sunflowers,
Grandma’s garlic spaghetti:
Yet you decided to spritz on
“Testosterone Yeti.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 