I am the type of person
Who will see the pearly gates
And confess all my discretions
Where redemption thus awaits
Until forward steps St. Peter
And unto me he does declare
“I am Peter”, and I giggle
And am promptly sent “down there”.
I am the type of person
Who will see the pearly gates
And confess all my discretions
Where redemption thus awaits
Until forward steps St. Peter
And unto me he does declare
“I am Peter”, and I giggle
And am promptly sent “down there”.
Filed under Poems
No amount of flattery
Can restore an empty battery
But a little flirting can
Reenergize almost any man.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes a banana is just a banana
And a tree is just a big, stiff, and girthy
And if you don’t know how torpedos fit in
Then your mind has yet to become worthy.
Filed under Poems
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!
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MMA (Male Maidens Association)
UPS (Un-Penissing Service)
UN (United Nations)
And many more!
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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