CHAPTER 1
Humor
Disclaimer
Because of this—that might happen.
As a result of—there's a chance that ...
I cannot guarantee it, if not administered properly.
Since you may now understand there's a slight
possibility that I might too—given all of the facts.
Get it?
Got it?
By no means do I in any way claim that I am
the one and only—officially licensed and team
sponsored by Sears Craftsman Tools—in direct
conjunction with Toyota Racing Development—
Bad-Boy Poet.
There is plenty of room for everyone.
We are all around.
I am bad.
I'm a boy.
The poet part is now for you to decide.
Be nice, because I have marshmallows.
Hey, we like s'mores too—and your point is?
Just strap in and hush up, hmm?
It's Always Raining
High-pressure system
with nary
a cloud in the air,
the weather so fair,
but then
it's always raining
in my head.
No coastal Eddy.
No monsoonal Flo.
The turtles take
a pounding
because
they move
so damn slow.
And, as per usual,
it's always
raining in my head.
I had better check
the Channel Seven
Eyewitness News
live
Doppler
radar.
Simi winds
are always blowing
out of my mind.
And, just in
the nick
of my
totally wasted time,
I begin
to gather my
boxes of rain
that
fell
mainly on the
plains in
Bahrain.
Gasoline
I've been oh so cold
for oh so long,
fragile inside but
I seem so strong,
so fat in the head
but I look so lean.
I love putting out the fire
with some gasoline.
Dressed to the nines with
clothes that are ragged,
a butter knife was dulled
by a spread that was jagged.
Rising from the milk, let me
show you my cream.
First I'll put out the fire
with some gasoline.
At one time so molten it
seemed I was on fire,
gained the control but
soon lost my desire.
I meant to be nice yet
I gleam when I'm mean.
I'll just blame it on more
heat from my gasoline.
Model Year-End Clearance Sale
Hi, friends! Ralph Williams here—
Yes, it's model year-end clearance time once again.
It's time to trade up, folks, so, bring that used clunker back in
here, and then you can again experience that new-car smell.
Forget all the phony factory rebates—we have them every day!
Free hot dogs for the kids—and we even have plenty of games
for the little brats to help keep them quiet while you are busy
beating me up like a red-headed step-child that talks smack—
I mean hurry in, because you just won't believe your eyes!
Damn Tourette's fucks me every time.
Come one, come all!
You're really going to have yourself a ball.
Remember, as always,
se habla español!
Pole Position
I want to start just one race not
so far back in the pack.
I want to begin in pole position.
Let me see how I can do
in pole position.
Let them all come to me.
Fresh start,
lead the way,
drive hard,
kiss my tailgate,
quick pits—
Just one race
I want to start in pole position,
low on the turns and accelerate
hard on that long straightaway.
See the checkered flag?
Now it's time for the backflip.
Where's my bottle of sour milk?
Don't Hate the Player
Hey, don't hate the player.
Get your hate on the game.
I'm the same old bad boy
with just a different name.
Seventeen long years ago
everything was all the same,
but then the crazy traveling
sent me to the zoo again.
So please hate the game
and not this franchise player.
Are you a glass half full or
another wise naysayer?
Should I scarf some emerald Vicodin?
Or pop another Bayer?
Everything is the biggest headache
for this injured-reserve player.
Keep My Drive Going
i need short passes
underneath the coverage
just over the linebackers
run the counterplay
to the strong side
good for five
quick slant
third and one
up the gut with a fullback blast
another first down
with the clock running
inside the fifty yard line
looking long oh
incomplete
second and ten play action
thirty-five thirty
twenty-five twenty
out of bounds at the eighteen
that safety really bit hard there
post pattern in the end zone
oh my, knocked down
got lucky on that one
second down play action
touchdown, wardo
holy smokes what a catch
the kick to tie it up
with a minute left
he missed the extra point!
oh sheboygan
note to self
fire kicker on monday
hire old
kicker
on tuesday
New Partners
Officer Feddup, meet the new rookie, Hadditt.
You two will ride together now.
I paired you two because I felt that your personalities were
similar and that you will click well for some reason.
It's something that I see every now and then with some
guys that I team up together in the field.
So tidy it up, you two, all right?
The commissioner is coming in later on, so get ready for
roll call, and don't forget to shine those shoes—or else!
So, do I make myself perfectly clear?
The most important thing now is that nothing changes.
Stay safe, and please, not too many maple bars or quick
naps behind the Walmart on Washington, hmmm?
That's what you said last time, Feddup!
Jack Ace
People often refer to me
as a total Jack Ace.
I just tell them that, in fact,
I'm more like a rabid K-9.
Don't mind the foam in my mouth.
When the king goes a floppin'
don't even bother knockin'
Numbah nine.
Numbah nine.
Your tens just lost their
perfect shine, I'll
soak you up just like
Brawny
cleaning wine.
Big Words Are Definitely Not for Me
Opulent horizons that optimistically transcend into the vital yet overvalued dormancy for the venomous tantamount designees elected could slyly don squeamishly higher barometric and subterranean pressures—which are often subsequent prerequisites for many a tongue-twisted rudimentary quagmire. Anything that is accompanied by such an amalgamated intricacy could most certainly adjust to a hypothetically choreographed "mastication fest"—since we run the risk of losing the entire quintessential domain that was sacrificed. Jurisprudence, along with laser-based titanium bionics, sends us into a subpar dichotomy of transfixed partitions and never remedies the situation. Speaking of situations, that idiot on Jersey Shore is a Douchasaurus rex. Additionally, a multiple corporate trust of a recapitulated nature tends to lead us into an elevated quasi-normalcy—which will more than likely raise the proverbial barcode of life's continuous and ongoing regurgitations.
Um, come again?
Really wasn't talking to you, fool.
Frikkin' rabbit ears!
Four-Twenty Is My Three-Sixteen
I am an altar boy inside the Church of
Continuous Wasted Opportunities.
Smell that pungent incense?
It is most definitely all that it seems to be.
This God's gift to mankind is what the three
wise men were really trafficking—bringing
forth a dank Exodus unto the Savior's parents.
They didn't inhale the serpent's lure, of course.
Rejoice, one and all, across the land!
Hallelujah, all ye indigo children of the desert!
Now, a reading from the Book of Wardo,
verse four, passage twenty:
"And it was told that the ancient Aryana region would
offer up such magical wonderment, derived from the
sacred Kush bush, assisting the holiest disciples who
prefer a mystically passive respite—for these blessed
aficionados represent the completely frazzled and yet
cautiously chosen few."
How Mach Is This Bird?
If a mockingbird went
and mocked me
while flying
just past
the speed of sound,
is he now
considered
to be
going about town
somewhere
in the neighborhood
of
Mach
Three?
You Had Me at Come
come one, come all
really going to have a ball
come here, come there
come before you sit in my chair
come in, come out
if you come, let's hear you shout
come once, come twice
do it now—that's my advice
come to work, come to play
come on, ladies,
do it twice today!
Habitat for Insanity
a crystal-clear conscious calamity
is created by a dry and callous majority
house of mirrors with a twist-of-fate reality
i'm building my own habitat for insanity
a much too pretentious debutante sorority
dominates its little greek brother fraternity
there's hardly a dip in our local criminality
i'm really getting used to a lower-class society
i've lost to some degree a bit of rationality
as this salve is reapplied oh so patiently
and i don't want to meet your almighty deity
because mine is so much better
you're all eventually going to see
Tripping on a Ji
So I was over at my friend Ji's house
all the way across town the other day.
His home reminds me of when our kids
were also little rug rats.
There was literally crap everywhere—
Fisher Price was taking over the kitchen,
the living room was a total cluster fuck,
there were plastic toys all over the place.
Then suddenly I went and took the friggin'
tumble of a Little Tikes lifetime!
I went and tripped on a G.
Those damn wooden alphabet blocks just
seem to sneak up on me every single time.
I mean, of all the Ji joints in the world, I had
to go and choose this one!
He did mention I could buy a vowel at half price.
Metro Nightmare
I must have fallen asleep on
my way home today.
Son of a begonia!
How in the world did I end up
on friggin' Q Street?
It seems a little foggy over here.
I must be somewhere on
the Westside.
This is exactly the reason that
Angelinos don't bother to take
public transportation.
We appear to be in a real sketchy area.
I wonder if I can transfer
to another line?
The nice guy in the wheelchair says that
I most certainly can—but it will run me
just a little bit extra.
It will probably cost me an arm and
a leg with my damn luck.
Coastal Eddy
Swirling onshore breeze from past Point
Concepcion to the southern border—
Fritz Coleman just loves the young lad.
We call it June gloom, but lately it's been
starting closer to April and lasting into August.
Is global warming to blame, Vice-President Bore?
Or is it just La Niña?
There is always someone to point the finger at.
What ever happened to our hombre, El Niño?
In the past, that dude was living like a rock star.
I guess he already spent his fifteen minutes.
You can be dropped fast when ratings are down.
Old Coastal Eddy,
He hangs out with his Boo, Onshore Flo.
They go by the stage name Flo and Eddy.
Not that sixties pop group, The Turtles,
even though they are so happy together.
Nope, this is the Weather Channel's version,
so let's rock and roll this muggy joint.
Damn it, Zuma Beach is socked in again!
I don't think Neil Young would be very happy.
Cat with Ten Lives
Pressing luck to the legal limit
could lead to a feline's demise.
It's a reality show, not a video game
that earns you extra lives.
The next crossing could be the last,
so look both ways and be wise.
A cool cat that has but a worry—
well, you know, he eventually dies.
You just hit ten, one more than the rest,
so, my friend, you're fresh out of tries.
Perhaps there's a way that we can talk
to the cougar with big brown eyes.
Postgame Press-Conference Interview
Well, gentlemen, it all came together in the end there as
you will see when you study the game film later on. You
will notice that we controlled the line of scrimmage during
the entire second half, which is what turned the whole thing
around after falling behind. The way that we mixed it up on
offense, there was no telling where we were going to attack
from. That is what we have struggled with all year long. We
have been inconsistent, to say the least. But I'm sure that you
would all agree that we are starting to jell at just the right time.
Now, after a rough start to the season, it's on to the playoffs.
Now is when we really need to focus, or it will be "one-and-out"
time. I can guarantee you one thing and one thing only. This
club has yet to reach its full potential. If we can just bang on all
four cylinders from here on out, then we might make a pretty
damned good run at this puppy. Frankly, I'm looking forward to
the challenge; I know that our guys are. They've worked their
butts off all year long. Forget about the record. I've never been
a real big fan of statistics. There are other factors involved at this
point in the season. It's been a pleasure, folks. It's been a long
time coming, and I am sure that this will not be our last rodeo.
Or is it last song and dance? Well, you know. We've got more
bulls to ride, and this is going to be like the Calgary Stampede
now. It's time to saddle up and to man up; that's all. Giddy up.
Punch them doggies and call in the cavalry. We have arrived!
To Whom It May Concern
So I've been praying a bit as of late.
I'm not a real member of any particular
denomination; at the present time,
I pray to: "to whom it may concern."
Not sure of his name—
Actually, I suppose it could be a her.
Sorry, Gloria Allred.
Let's see there's God,
there's Buddha,
then there's obviously Harry Potter.
There's always Eric Clapton,
especially in the sixties and seventies.
There's Pablo Escobar's legend.
There's Christ the Savior.
My ex calls the mighty one Yahweh.
I might refer to him as Yogi,
or is it yoga?
Wait—I meant Yngwie Malmsteen.
There's d-lysergic acid, courtesy of Owsley.
Then there's always Tai Chi.
It's whatever you want to call it in order to
center yourself in this slightly slanted world.
I need to pick one of the above, because I
really am dragging my feet at this point.
Any one of my friends would agree that the
bottoms of my shoes appear to be charred.
Holy friction burn, Batman!
I'm not a little off center—I'm on full tilt!
I guess it's time to head to Rishikesh.
Hinduism is already in my hip pocket.
Turn off my mind,
relax, and float downstream.
It is knowing.
It is showing.
The Excretion Meets the Oscillation
Based on the
extremely
windy
conditions,
I never
would have
guessed
that it
would adhere.
It defies
all of the
natural
laws
of physics.
Apparently
it takes
two
to tango,
even if it
does leave
quite
a mess.
Could I
borrow
a few
Handi
Wipes?
The fan
didn't
even
put up
a decent fight.
It met the
pimp hand
of the
one and
only
Dirty Sanchez.
Plagiarism
I sure hope that Sir Paul has a decent sense of humor.
Maybe I should send him some Skywalker OG Kush.
I know I'll have to get Mick and Keith some nice cognac.
Hopefully Jerry's family has enough Benjamins already.
I'm just a lost soul living in a fishbowl—and the owner
of this dive hasn't changed the toxic water in ages!
I don't copy you, but I certainly do honor you.
John helps me along with my pen, so I would have to
say that he is definitely on my side of the notepad.
Do you hear me, Sean?
Earth to Yoko!
Earth to Yoko!
Come in, Yoko.
Seriously, do you really need to sue the world's
biggest fan of your late, great husband?
His portrait speaks to me in such ancient tongues,
tongues of Krishna,
tongues of a glass onion peeled and sautéed,
tongues of a loaded legend in that infamous cab ride.
George tells him that all things must pass, including all
of the verses that appeared so convincingly dastardly at
the time of that big, bad civil trial from hell.
Before that it was just simple, classic, poetic brilliance.
I guess bad publicity is much better than hearing crickets
in the hallways at the Rolling Stone magazine building.
I'll take the free advertising; no problem.
I better get a nice haircut and some new duds.
Oprah and Kathy Lee are indeed wondering,
"What is this darn fuss all about?"
Oh, and by the way, Weird Al says, "High."
He told me that I was indeed being a bit of a bad boy.
That shout-out cost him a cool ninety-nine cents and change.
Then I told him, "Beat it, because you bother me."
He flipped me off and replied, "Eat it!"
He ain't so bad, but now I'm the one that's nationwide.
A smart dressed man always wears them cheap sunglasses.
