oatmeal: “I’m generally not one to tell tales out of school, but let’s just say that the little mick prick on the Lucky Charms box is about ‘magical’ as a Raisin Bran fart — and that, were he really all that concerned about kids stealing his wee pastel marshmallow, he wouldn’t keep inviting them inside his tiny condo to takes baths and watch the Cartoon Network in their undies while
The protein wisdom original poems
June 25, 2008
Another moment of unabashed pragmatism (travel edition)
Sure, I can spend $5 for that airplane Bloody Mary. Or I can just get viciously stoned in the car before the flight, then tell the TSA rep that I’ve been doing an awful lot of swimming. And that the Cool Ranch Doritos I’m stuffing in my face are, pace the nattering of the food nannies, suprisingly high in complex carbohydrates.
June 18, 2008
The “a poem whose sole purpose is to use the phrase ‘duck sauce'” poem
for every drake who’s ever been misidentified Pardon me, said she — a lank, fresh-faced gal in a lovely flower print summer dress — but you wouldn’t happen to have any extra low sodium soy sauce, would you? I just smiled. No, I told her. But I do have some extra duck sauce you’re welcome to. If, you know, you’re interested. — And if the duck doesn’t mind my milking
June 16, 2008
Iraq Violence Down [Dan Collins]
Root causes of violence remain unaddressed. Meet the New Pragmatism. Those positive signs are attracting little attention in the United States, where the war-weary public is focused on the American presidential contest and skeptical of talk of success after so many years of unfounded optimism by the war’s supporters. [emphasis mine] Original title of article. h/t dre .
June 12, 2008
The “my son’s brand new bunk bed” poem
my son’s brand new bunk bed — a fixed-financed contraption of pine abutting a suburban textured white wall — towers skyward like Jacob’s famous ladder. — or at least, it would, were I able to figure out the goddamned assembly instructions. Fucking Chinese. What, communism isn’t sadistic enough…?
May 22, 2008
The “the ‘if I were a garden hoe’ poem” poem
for Shannon Elizabeth If I were a garden hoe I’d be an independent contractor. It’s bad enough banging rakes and manual sprinklers for chump change — You think I want to share my hard-earned bread with some asshole garden pimp?
April 28, 2008
a haiku that — for no reason whatsoever — imagines Calvin Coolidge as a member of the Reverend Jeremiah Wright's congregration
“Don’t expect to build up the weak by pulling down the strong. ‘Less they’re white.”
January 6, 2008
a poem for Satchel on this, his fourth birthday
You probably don’t remember how you looked when you came mewling into the world, but I do, because I happened to be right there. You’re much taller now. Which, for reasons you’ll understand when one day you become a dad yourself, is an observation I find terribly bittersweet.