Sunday, May 30, 2010


Is it normal to wake up in the morning contemplating, visualizing and weighing the best options for self-destruction?
Please note: I am not concerned. This phenomenon is, mercifully, short-lived, lasting only until lunch.

(Hey,Woozie: see what I did there?)

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Fucking wasps, eh?

Clever cunts.  But I frustrated the buggers to no end this week.

Note to wasps: Build your creepy, ugly, shit hole nests under someone else's awning, you yellow-assed freaks. This is a wasp-free Lunch Counter.

Just so you know... I'm watching you bastards.

Saturday, May 22, 2010


One good thing about retiring from the blackboard jungle (I didn't tell you? Oh.) is that I will likely encounter fewer strains of toxic bacteria.

Finally, to be bug and cootie free.  I might even make it a full seven days without experiencing some kind of scabrous rash, fungal infection, or gastro-intestinal lollapalooza.

Kids can be a lot of fun.  But they are filthy little creatures.

Friday, May 21, 2010


A few days ago, I had no idea who Rand Paul was.  And while I might wish that he, and people of his intellectual ilk, would remain forever unknown (which is to say, allow them to enjoy their banjo music, cross burnings and sibling-fucking in moribund, backwoods obscurity), I realize that my wish might be construed as um, just a tad selfish.  Therefore, I say in all honesty (tho' fingers might be crossed)

Heartiest congratulations, Kentucky!

Yowza.  Shout it out.
proclaim him from clapboard rooftops and the bowels of the outback
to those really nice seats at your annual horse Derby.

Yessir. This young man seems just ticket to nudge that great state of yours into the third decade of the last century.

Llewellen: need I say it?  Bring us a cold one. On the double, son.  I feel another poem coming on.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

CUNTS (a poem)

They're everywhere.

And not the nice kind of cunts, either.  But
the kind that  push your buttons
(because you've got a droopy eye, say
or skin that's a shade darker
than their Uncle Gump thinks is absolutely necessary)
and then they pull a knife on you in the parking lot
a knife is a terrible thing to waste;
and after all
it might as well get to work
carving initials into something.  Because it's Saturday night.

Oh, there are cunts galore. 

But not the nice kind.

Friday, May 14, 2010

This is the stuff that keeps me going.

Especially when I've been spinning me some old vinyl for a couple of hours and getting mellow.  (Well, it is Friday night.  And the beer was chilled.)

Aynsley, dude... nice fucking job.

Eric: I forgot your birthday on the 11th. Sorry, old son.  But I'm making up for it tonight.  Happy 69th.

Saturday, May 8, 2010


My new weekend feature.  I'll type a quotation from a book I'm currently reading and set it here, in the lobby.  (This exercise is meant to take the place of actual thinking on my part.  Plus, the stuff will be better than my usual bleatings about life, death, retirement and hemorrhoids.  And, every quote comes with a free -- albeit digital -- Heineken.)

From,  'a spot of bother', by Mark Haddon:

"What they failed to teach you at school was that the whole business of being human just got messier and more complicated as you got older.
You could tell the truth, be polite, take everyone's feelings into consideration and still have to deal with other people's shit.  At nine or ninety."

Friday, May 7, 2010


Spence Olchin from King of Queens. Yeah, baby.

(Compare photo here.)

Elena Kagan my ass.

Thursday, May 6, 2010


This was the teaser headline on CNN dot com: Bono gets legal name and gender change.

Turns out it wasn't the guy from U2.  Just Chaz Bono.

Yeah.  I can see why a guy might want to jettison the whole 'Chastity' thing now that he's sporting brand new block and tackle.

Too bad Sonny died banging into that tree.  He could meet his new son at Hooters for lunch.


UPDATE:  GO HABS GO!  (See Comment section for more details.)

Sunday, May 2, 2010


I am addicted to both educating children and the canning factory that is school.  As for the latter, I'll be punching out soon enough, leaving all manner of spillage on the floor.  It is (probably past) time to let  the second shift -- the newbies -- have their turn.  But I intend to keep teaching.  And that is why I have, for the past seven weeks, been tutoring at night.

Privately.  For very little money.  (How does twelve bucks an hour sound to you?  It almost pays for the printing ink and supplies.)

The parents pay what they can afford.  And I get to keep on doing what I absolutely need to do.

And hey, this week we're learning about snakes and reading some Silver Birch books. 

(I'm going to miss pizza days and soccer at recess, though.)

UPDATE: One boy's parents want me to continue the sessions through the summer.  Fuck me. Summer is when I lie in the sun drinking beer, hoping I'll be dead before I come to.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

The grass needed cutting at least a week ago.  Hell, it needed cutting nearly a month ago.

But I'm a traditionalist.  And I saved the chore until today.

Because no matter how fucked up the seasons get; despite global warming and the vagaries of mother nature; and regardless of the actions of my candy-ass, anal retentive neighbours, I will never, ever, cut my lawn for the first time in a new year -- before the first day of bloody May.

To mine own self, I be true.

Llewellen: Put the machine in the shed and fetch us both a pint.  Fuck it.  Make it a couple of pints.  The smell of freshly coiffed grass gives me a thirst.