If I Had One Wish…

As I was walking down the street
An object shining bright
Did beckon me to come to it
With it’s ungodly light

At first I thought it a demonic
Tool to suck my soul
But upon close inspection saw it
A remote control

And the selector at the top
I might have thought illegal
TV, cable or ‘people’

And with close observation twas
No doubt what I would choose
And now the one thing for it was
To put it to good use

At first I thought I’d play a bit
To see it serve it’s cause
For my boss there was the off switch my
Pesky neighbor on pause

The hunk there at the corner bar
Who’s kind of dumb but cute
Was just so much more interesting
When I put him on mute

But I bored of the obvious
And curious I grew
To play with random buttons wondering
What would each one do

And so I hit F1, G5
Zoom, the number nine
The yellow button on the left
The one with squiggly lines

And now my sister’s looking green
My mom is in HD
My husband is a reddish blue
And kind of looks 3D

My best friend’s in a Judas Priest
Special on VH1
My dog is in an endless loop
Of old Seinfeld reruns

And don’t look now my daughters hanging
With Hannah Montana
My kid’s teachers an honorary
Housewife of Atlanta

And so it seemed that at this point
That I knew in my gut
That I really should do something but
The big question was ‘what?’

I started shaking the remote
A desperate last resort
A genie popped out and he said
“You have reached tech support”

I looked in wonder at the man
And then back at the vessel
I said “This takes outsourcing
To a whole other level”

But with no time to wonder how
The strange creature was spawn
I thought it best just to explain
The weirdness going on

He gave me a sagacious nod
And said all would be fine
He’d fix my woes for the low price
Of 14.99

So with a smile and a nod
He brought to normalcy
The channels and the many shows
We watch on the TV

My mother is so not HD
I almost have to squint
My sister and my husband lost
That most unnatural tint

And so the genie did go back
To that exotic land
That seems to live in my remote
Guess it’s called Pakistan.

I couldn’t quite abandon the idea of writing about remote controls, especially since the wonderful Mike Steeden reminded me of how terrific it could be if I had one that worked on people.


Kicking Ass and Taking Names (Future Challenge)

The year is twenty fifty five
I wake up in my bed
Nurse Amanda strolls in with
My breakfast and my meds

I know she hopes this won’t unfold
To an unpleasant scene
When I ask her “Hey man do you
Got some more of the green?”

Her furrowed brow does make it clear
She’s very much opposed
To relive last Friday when I
Did snort them up my nose

Then to the lobby I am wheeled
With the regular crowd
With headphones blasting Judas Priest
Camille says,”It’s too loud!”

And from my wheelchair I do rise
My anger uncontrolled
And so with wrath I scream “If It
Is too loud you’re too old!”

But Camille clearly is unphased
And so I merely frown
And roughly reach out as I turn
Her damn hearing aid down

But as I go to turn around
I see the TV when
I protest at the broadcast “No!
Not Golden Girls again!”

I pull it’s plug out from the wall
So everyone’s resigned
To gather for my favorite treat
That’s right, poetry time

Anna starts out with a sonnet
Two lines will suffice
I wheel her to the other room
While mumbling “Very nice!”

So finally it is my turn
To read my new collection
If there’s old stuff thrown in I’m sure
They’ll have no recollection

And so I start my racy rhymes
Till most of them are blushing
And soon wheel out with snide remarks
Like “Oh gosh, so disgusting”

Soon everybody has cleared out
‘Cept Murray’s in a trance
With a blank smile on his face
And one hand down his pants

And so I say to him “Old boy
Seems we’ve done it again
What you think? Should you and I
Watch some Anchorman 10?”

And that is just another day
My reputation known
For kicking ass and taking names
Down at the nursing home

I’d like to thank Erika Kind for nominating me for this challenge in which you are supposed to come up with some sort of concept of your future. I don’t think whoever came up with the challenge quite imagined it would come out like this but, oh well. You can read Erika’s submission here.


I Really Need A Hobby

I’m in The Who, Black Sabbath and Judas Priest,
And many a rockin’ foursome,
I’m 65% New York, and a wife that’s,
Just 42% awesome.

I’m a hipster mom who’s fit for kindergarten,
And if you think that’s peculiar,
I bet you didn’t know I’m Super Girl although,
My nickname should be Junior.

I’m some kind of peculiar creature from Star Wars,
That I never knew existed,
And apparently I’m on Facebook way too much,
Taking those asinine quizzes.


Top 12 Heavy Metal Albums of the 80s

Inspired by the recently released Rolling Stones’ top 10 metal albums of the 80s, I am chiming in. This was a difficult decision, but keep in mind, I tried to keep it to one album per band and tried to categorize the music that if felt could only be considered heavy metal, i.e. not hard rock or thrash. I welcome your opinions if you feel like I left any out. By the way, hope you don’t mind, mine is more of a top 12. Just couldn’t whittle it down!

12. Too Fast For Love- Motley Crue


I know the musical integrity may not be there for some, but to me, this was definitely a defining album in 80s metal. And besides, I was 13 years old and Vince Neil’s crotch was on the cover so…

11. Stay Hungry – Twisted Sister


Once again, probably not among the tops for people with refined music tastes but raw, rebellious, and definitely the definition of all the was 80’s heavy metal. How do you want to live your life?

10. Pyromania


Right before they sold out, went rap, and Joe Elliot turned into Nancy Wilson, Def Leppard proved that they had one more in them, quite possibly their best.

9. Balls to the Wall – Accept


Who cares if Udo Dirkschneider resembled a little frog? Who cares if Accept disappeared into virtual obscurity following the release of this album? Who cares if we really can’t understand the words and there’s some German dude in leather panties on the front cover? This album rocked!

8. Killers – Iron Maiden


I know what your thinking but I loved Paul Dianno. I think he was an awesome singer with a sexy, bluesy voice that gave Iron Maiden a punk edge. There’s more Iron Maiden to come so don’t get your panties in a bunch. I allowed two Iron Maiden because I almost feel like Bruce Iron Maiden and Paul Iron Maiden are two different bands. Also, I almost creamed my jeans when i heard Murders in the Rue Morgue for the first time.

7. Holy Diver – Dio


Shout out and big old two fingered salute (and I don’t mean two middle fingers) to Ronnie James Dio, nuff said.

6. Blizzard of Ozz – Ozzy Osbourne


Premier album from Ozzy Osbourne solo with the late great Randy Rhodes. Great songs plus Ozzy on the cover doing something appropriately deranged and blasphemous.

5. Love At First Sting – Scorpions


Hats off the another great German midget with a pair of lungs. Klaus Meine may not have looked the part but he sure was a romantic guy.

4. Ace of Spades – Motorhead


Part of the inspiration for me writing this list was the fact that the Rolling Stones article made no mention of Motorhead. Don’t be dissing on my boy Lemmy! Fourth and probably the pinnacle of all Motorhead albums (although for me it was a toss up between this and Orgasmatron), and yes, it was released in 1980.

3. Defenders of the Faith – Judas Priest


Barely beating out Screaming for Vengeance in the fight to the finish. True it does not have the Hellion/ Electric Eye medley but I think it’s a better album through and through. Also, there’s something about this album that makes me wish I was a teenager on a hot summer night.

2. Number of the Beast


Ha! I told you… I told you I was gonna add it and see, I did!! Bruce Dickinson joins the band, Steve Harris finds his muse and writes the album he always wanted to write.

1. Ride the Lightening – Metallica


I know many would argue that Metallica’s career became more refined after this album, oh yeah, after James Hetfield got singing lessons, and they started making videos and Lars became an asshole, and they publicly spewed their differences in Some Kind of Monster, and they started caring about their paychecks and forgetting that is was “All About the Kids” and of course, who could forget poor Cliff. Just give me good old fashioned raw Metallica, please. I’ll take this one, thanks.

Calling All Rock Stars

1984 was a great year for music. I don’t know if George Orwell’s predictions of a dystopia had anything to do with it, but 1984, to me, stands out as a year when every heavy metal band would reach it’s pinnacle in creating the optimum LPs all captured on glorious vinyl. This year would be a climax of two decades or so, of previous hard rock and heavy metal glory.

Yes, I’m talking about the Led Zeppelin, Kiss, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Metallica, and even you Motley Crue. The glorious rock stars of yesteryear.


Now let’s take a step forward and look at the state of music today. Where are all those heavy metal gods, the true rock stars.  Where are the larger than life bulges in the pants, the boys that look like girls and girls that look like boys? Sure I understand that all of this belongs to an error that has since died out. But what have we replaced it with? Sappy banjo playing preppies, mediocre PC nerds, pseudo disco hipsters, ultra sensitive emo kids with weird hair, or, if we’re lucky, bratty second rate punk bands. It’s no wonder that our children are still wearing our rock shirts and listening to our records, now so smartly available in CD format and apparently all over the internet.


Now back to the past. The year is 1985. Tipper Gore leads the PMRC, a committee of repressed housewives, dedicated to taking all the fun out of rock n’ roll. At the time, I did not see the PMRC as a huge threat, but rather an opportunity for rockers to unite and show how intelligent they truly were, while simultaneously proving the stupidity of said bored housewives who’s biggest victory seemed to be putting an easily ignorable label on albums warning of explicit lyrics and, ultimately, wanting us to buy the album EVEN MORE!!


But now, looking back on things, did Tipper Gore win? Surely more raunchy rock stars emerged since then, producing bawdy lyrics and hip grinds. But it seems it was all with a neatly packaged, glossy sheen, that has since disappeared completely to be replaced by a piece of metal, shrink rapped and presented, as if to say, “Here, buy me. This is what you should be listening to. You don’t need to think about anything at all.”

Indeed I feel sorry for young girls whose best wet dreams will prominently feature a Jonas Brother. And while Radiohead is hardly the worst band in the world, and while I understand the feelings of social inadequacy, probably better than anyone else, nobody is more of a creepy weirdo than Alice Cooper. And it’s highly unlikely that “Symptom of the Universe” had anything remotely to do with recycling.


So I conclude with an urgent plea to rockers of the world to put down your coffee cups, unite and rise with a thundering voice. To paraphrase Nora Roberts, “Rock n’ roll is restless, rude, defiant and daring. Once in a while, someone comes along who truly understands, who has the gift to transfer all those needs and emotions into music.”  Where is this person?  Banished to a bar band career because the record company is too afraid to unleash the raw emotions that constitute a rock star? Who will be our savior to deliver us from the corporate grindstone that rock n’ roll has now become?