If followers become immersed,
In your witty yet subversive verse,
And decide they don’t like the tone,
(Or accidentally hit unsubscribe on their iPhone),
A situation arises most appalling,
As you watch those statistics falling,
And your conscious may prevent the release,
Of a controversial masterpiece.
You wonder who might get offended,
Or leave your page most discontented,
But I just say of those folk,
Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
We talk about our children potty training,
We talk about what they eat,
We talk about our day at work,
And what was on TV.
We talk about refi rates,
And economy and wealth,
We talk about politics,
We talk about our health.
We talk about the weather,
And how we spent our morning,
And as we talk I wonder,
When did we get so boring?
When I began blogging, Sean Smithson was one of my first followers. In fact, even when my blogs were absolute crap, and almost no one liked them, there was Sean Smithson, among the brave few, giving validation to my pathetic publications.
But who was this Sean Smithson? Some creepy stalker? Well perhaps…
But actually, it turns out Sean had a great blog of his own where he would write sordid accounts of his pathetic love life, steeped in humor and self deprecation. Well, the truth is, pathetic may be not quite a strong enough word to describe Sean’s love life. Perhaps, it might be better to say that reading his blog was a bit like watching a car crash, you know, the kind of thing where you want to turn away but you just can’t. And, in case you are not quite getting the jist, if there was a behavioral or personality disorder for people who simply did not have the dating gene, it would probably be called Smithson Syndrome.
Anyway, every time Sean published a blog, it seemed as if the entire blogging community would come out to read what new, horrifically embarrassing episode Sean was ready to unfold, while trying to top each other with clever comments, all under some sort of ruse that they would actually win a date with the author; although why anyone would want to earn this distinction is beyond me.
Recently Sean published a book, “How To Lose A Girl In 10 Ways”. To return Sean’s months of dedication to my blog, I swore I would be the first to read and review the book, but it seems that it was rather difficult for me to get my hands on it, so many other bloggers beat me to the punch. However, after reading much of the book, I was inspired to write a poem in Sean’s honor:
I heard he was smart and soft spoken,
And even a bit of a looker,
Maybe it’s the liquor but here’s the kicker,
He can’t even score with a hooker.
But saved by a sense of humor,
Of which many have an appreciation,
He turns into gold the stories he’s told,
While wallowing in self deprecation.
A subject he’s quite fond of,
And perhaps they were trying to kid,
When told in effect, he could write a book on the subject,
But that’s exactly what he did.
And though I always root for the underdog,
And have a strong appreciation,
A change in luck might totally suck,
For where would he get his inspiration?
A classic tale of boy loses girl, boy loses girl, boy loses girl…this book rocks!
Read Sean’s blog here:
Buy Sean’s book here:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ASIN/B00L5OU2CQ/theoffiinbe-21
https://itunes.apple.com/gb/book/how-to-lose-a-girl-in-10-ways/id891641102?mt=11&ign-mpt=uo%3D4
It was in the Garden of Eden,
That Eve lay in repose,
But no need to bring an apple in,
To make her feel the need for clothes.
The snake, let’s call him Dior,
To her did appear,
And said, “That nakedness is nice,
But face it, it’s so last year.
Your figure so athletic,
I’d say that it just begs,
For a pair of Jimmy Choos,
To elongate those legs.
And now just so your look,
Can live up to your dreams,
Here’s what every diva wants,
Some bootylicious jeans.
A glittery rhinestone belt,
To make your waist look tiny,”
At this Eve was mesmerized
Grabbed it and said “Shiny!”
And then along came Adam,
Eve said, “Hey there handsome,
No more sitting in this garden,
You’re taking me out dancing!
But you better put on some clothes,
And get yourself looking right,
After all I ain’t gonna stare,
At that thing all night!”
So Adam put on a wife beater,
Some boxer shorts that weren’t too sweaty,
Took in Eve’s disapproving stare,
And said “What? I’m ready!”
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/in-the-beginning/
Here I stand at the DMV,
And I must say it’s a sight to see,
That under the sickly glow of fluorescent light,
All people of the world unite.
To create a lovely vision,
Of every world, class and religion,
Ages range from young to old,
As if a rainbow might unfold.
And though a sense of community could be thriving,
Based on this common skill of driving,
The bond that holds us here is this,
We’re all completely fuckin’ pissed.
Your husband; you’ll accept his flaws,
But not so much from your in-laws,
Once you ascertain how scary,
It is that they’re hereditary,
Of this fact you may be in denial,
Till they manifest themselves in your child.
Lately I have come to see,
My life as reality TV,
Where they might cue in crickets because,
I said something worthy of a long, awkward pause.
Where in a grocery store the camera might pan,
To show the audience I’ve forgotten the jam,
And if I do something really dumb,
It will not be overcome,
But rather will be front page news,
In my friend’s private interviews.
And if there’s drama or commotion,
It will be replayed in slow motion,
And a very popular feature,
Rock n’ roll supermom vs. some poor teacher,
As the world waits on the edge of their seats,
To see the results when they tune in next week.
And though I’ll be a huge ignoramus,
It’s likely I’ll be rich and famous,
Write autobiographies and have fat paychecks coming,
Based on the fact that I’ve done nothing,
And get recognition from the academy,
For playing the jackass that is me.
So many fashions come and gone,
But one that might have lingered on,
And most practical of these,
May have been the codpiece.
A protective plate used in armor,
Sometimes called a willy warmer,
Ostentatious and audacious,
While salacious and flirtatious.
What man would not say okay,
To this most delightful display,
With it Blackie Lawless had no bones,
But do you know, neither did Tom Jones?
The piece often adorned with pockets,
Perfect to substitute your wallets,
For what cashier would not mind,
Taking cash from a place where the sun don’t shine.
But if the maker were so rude,
Or perhaps just in a foul mood,
Or what some might consider a bitch,
And made an inverted stitch,
I do not envy the poor sod,
Who would then feel it right in the cod.
When we were in the restaurant,
Couldn’t look you in the eye,
Did you see those prices?
I wanted to cry,
Can anyone afford this?
That I really doubt,
Think I’ll skip this meal and,
Put a down payment on a house.
Cause I’m too cheap,
For this bistro,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.
I bet they’re small portions,
I bet they’re a gyp,
If I have to pay for this,
I’m not gonna tip.
Did you bring your wallet?
Did you bring some cash?
I think they we might just,
Do a dine and dash.
Cause I’m too cheap,
For this bistro,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.
We’re running out the door,
We’re running, we run, run, run, run,
Run
I can’t believe we did that,
I can’t believe we had the nerve,
They’ll probably post a picture of us,
That says ‘Do Not Serve’.
Cause I’m too cheap,
For this bistro,
What the hell am I doing here?
I don’t belong here.
Thanks so much to my son Jesse for helping me on guitar and vocals and making me sound so much better than I would otherwise. I love you baby!
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/to-the-tune-of/
Jonathan Caswell is a great blogger and reblogger. Thanks to his reblogs, I have met so many bloggers, and gained a few followers as well. Out of eternal gratitude I am giving back with this one, which I like to think was somewhat inspired by me!
VERY INSTRUMENTAL–“FRANKENSTEIN”
The Rock D.J. needed a break,
For her, a piece of cake…
Put on “FRANKENSTEIN,”**
Which runs a long time
But she still has to stay awake!
–
Pioneers of the synthesizer,
Edgar Winter was a surprizer…
Strapped on the thing
Like a guitar to swing,
And the rest of the world was wiser.
–
In nineteen seventy-two,
“FRANKENSTEIN” punched its way through…
Music pioneering
We’re glad for hearing,
And helps out the D.J., too!
–Jonathan Caswell
** Check out:
for a stage performance!
Glorious Results Of A Misspent Youth 