Tag Archives: True Story

An Actual Retirement Home On My Street

No matter how I’ve managed to sin

Since my life, long ago, did begin

Please forgive me enough

(Even take all my stuff),

Just don’t leave me at the Woodway Inn!

#RetiredPeopleDon’tDropSoap

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Hint: I’m Burning The American Southeast In Effigy

It’s my birthday.

The Seahawks lost.

You may or may not draw

An accurate conclusion

Of my happiness (or lack thereof)

Based on that information.

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True Story Guest Post: The Epic of Hwy 99

Such a travesty is BC Hwy 99I think the guys who built it were blind

Or perhaps were very drunk

This road doesn’t make sense to a duck. 
The road was built for Mario Cart

Level one is 340 degree turns

Level two is curves that lead to un-marked one-lane bridges

Level three add turning trucks

And if that isn’t more than enough 

Level four the deer are suicidal. 

Level five we take away the road signs

Level six adds falling rocks

Level seven adds the rain

Level eight is and 15% grade

Level nine is 10 km/hr on that grade
I don’t want to reach level ten —

Not even the Buddha has that level zen. 
JOFFRE LAKES!

Now it all makes sense!
And at the village intersection 

As the clock strikes midnight, 

We pass the bloody Grim. 

And across a bridge we go 

To be warned of washout conditions. 
I have 99 problems 

And this road is all of them. 

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This Weeks Hot Fantasy Football Tip Brought To You Hurricane Irma

So I hear there’s a hurricane

Headed for Florida.

Under most circumstances

That’s a thing I’d abhor-ida

But it’s postponed the game

‘Tween the Dolphins and Rays

So my fantasy matchup is easier

Which deserves a few “yays.” 

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A Better Deal Than Gas Station Sushi!

Imagine for a moment a world in which the typical person lives about sixteen years before being enslaved by corporate overlords and enduring fifty years of ever-increasing toil simply to stay alive. 

In this world there is an individual who has escaped the never-ending cycle of despair, and each day he renews the hope of a few hundred people via moments of free, digitally-published, frequently-rhyming silliness. He is a beacon of cynical optimism, a daily reminder that you don’t have to be perfect (or even reasonably good) to make a difference.

Would you be willing to give 6-12 seconds of your wages to keep the beacon of hope alive?
OF COURSE YOU WOULD!

Well, I have a confession: The in-no-way-a-metaphor-for-this-writer protagonist in the suspiciously-similar-to-real-life fantasy world is actually me! (M. Night Shyamalan, feel free to use this as inspiration for your next film’s inevitable plot twist).

I’ve been thinking about monetizing this blog for a while. I hate ads, and I will never willingly force you to suffer through ads to access this content. Instead of that, I want to give you the chance to financially support me as much or as little as you want via Patreon.

For those of you unfamiliar with Patreon, it’s a membership platform that makes it easy for creators of great stuff to get paid, and gives you (the patrons) some fantastic rewards for your generosity.

This blog has just shy of 900 followers as I write this. If each of you contributed fifty cents a month (less than two cents a day), it would pay my rent for the month. If each of you gave one dollar a month it would almost double my annual income (actually true). [Yes ladies, I’m single]. So if you’re willing to help keep the light of silliness alive in an increasingly dystopian society of “those other guys” for less than the cost of gas station sushi (financially and otherwise), please consider supporting me via Patreon when it launches on September 24th.

Humanity thanks you, as do I.

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Downside? Nazi Riots. Upside? Easy Day For Bad Poetry.

Everyday I seek to write

A really lousy poem

Where life is hard and then the good guys lose,

But today I can be lazy

And write this poem instead

‘Cause my narrative is just Virginia’s news.

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Dear Internet: Why The Exception?

You can’t mock someone ’cause they’re fat,

Ugly, stupid, stuff like that.

You can’t make jokes about a race

(At least not to somebody’s face).

You can’t gay-bash, slut-shame, or mock

The way one laughs or thinks or talks.

But you can defame or spew hate at

Those with neckbeards or a fedora hat.

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