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.
Tag Archives: True Story
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.
Filed under Poems
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.”
Filed under Poems
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.
Filed under To the Reader
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.
Filed under Poems
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.
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
Elegy For My Youthful Vigor
‘Tis late! ‘Tis late!
‘Tis nearly dark!
I really should be snoring.
You say “it’s fine,”
But it’s nearly 9:00
And, oh my God, I’m boring!
Filed under Poems
Summertime In Washington State
When in the Summer
Humid, hot,
You’re AC’s working…
Wait, it’s not.
You’re sweating, panting,
Hope has died,
Your thoughts have turned
To homicide…
My days are filled
With thoughts like these.
Can you believe
It’s 78 degrees?
Filed under Poems
Best Wishes From Everything You’ve Ever Signed
I lay in bed one humid eve
When through the window came
A mysterious hooded figure
With neither face nor name.
He tied me to my bedframe,
Shaved my head and ate my food,
Downloaded my shopping preferences
And data about my mood.
He stole my cash and passwords
And he burned all my receipts
Then showed me banner advertisements
For Sprint and flannel sheets.
He listened to my phone calls
And sold recordings to Taiwan.
These unusual torments
Lasted all the way ’til dawn.
He changed my LinkedIn profile
And made me look inept,
Then left a calling card which said
“Read before you click Accept.”
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 