Thursday, December 13, 2018
Ends
-Kelli and I finally had THE TALK!
-The Delay Card disintegrating in your
crippled fingers?
-Think...Mudstorm-Tsunami.
-(sings) Where were you blown to?
-Separate trees!
-Oak, Christmas, what?
-Can there exist a Female Variety?
-Better be!
-Her final announcement, anyway:
she’s switching to girls altogether.
And starting Wholesale!
-She must hate herself.
-The only profound question concerns
the transferability of faked orgasms.
-She can search the literature.
-Or Feminist Poetry?
-At any rate, you both have some
time to think now.
-Uh uh! Enough of that shit already!
Moving to the desert before she wades
into Social Media blaming me. Expect to
be pissing my pants with some regularity.
-For my sake, practice stationing yourself
downwind right now!
downwind right now!
-What’s your, uh, sister doing?
-The usual nothing.
-On the market again?
-Yeah, but not to Jews!
-I’m a Catholic!
-Worse.
Labels: bi, bisexual, breakup, Catholic, feminism, Jew, macho, relationship
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Inventing History
The Soft Coup
What else is new?
When the women took over
the Government, we awaited
jarring change.
Bizarre by pretending otherwise
All ran the same. Pretty much
the hoggish way the men did.
Uneasy! Where’s the buzzsaw?
President Monica Sawyel counseled
patience. Her next term would embody
the bulk of the changes.
What about now? The dirty cards in
today’s deck?
First concentration in Arts!
So many floating loafers already.
A five play cycle featuring superlative
warrior, Meldornia!
Slight problem in that she never existed?
The young women must be saved
by having something to believe in!
Yeah, a lie!
We never had one based on lies?
Not entirely.
Oh?
Labels: coup, feminism, history, importance of myth, myth, revolution, rule by women, war
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Brace
I loved Ada because she wasn’t crazy
That steady state changed, though,
under the influence of her girlfriends.
NPT-Feminists.
No Prisoners Taken.
Soon our relationship became a debate.
And I responsible for the sins of my
boorish brothers.
Well, a relationship is tough enough
without one party discovering
The True Faith.
Coincidentally, Faith has entered
upon Ada’s Exit.
Her name.
She’s hilarious!
Labels: faith, feminism, men, personal relations, radical, relationship, women
Saturday, September 23, 2017
The Man Who Lost His Mind
...and no one noticed
I am he.
Oh, perhaps there’s a brain stem
or something left.
Enabling me to operate on a
primitive level.
To fake it.
I wonder if I had relied on this
for the many years before losing
my mind.
I still work the same job, my
colleagues just as boisterous,
or cutting, as usual.
Live in the same messy studio.
With the exception of one desk,
the surface of which I keep
uncluttered.
A special art has developed
where I space objects on it
weekly.
Enabling me to breathe
much more freely.
Go figure!
About a year into my 90%
brainlessness, I sought the
advice of the wisest man I
know. My old professor of
Interpersonal Problems.
He listened. And then laughed.
“Welcome! My mind left over
five years ago.”
So! A reunion of sorts of the
brain deficient.
All we could do for the whole
conversation was chuckle and
guffaw as to how we’ve fooled
everyone.
But then I turned serious!
I had so many questions!
Chief of which: Do women lose
their minds proportionally?
He couldn’t stop laughing then.
Five minutes elapse, my thinking
he’d need medical treatment.
Finally he breathlessly blurted out “Not...
in the least. They...never do. You see,
they had none to begin with!”
Stop here! Feminists, please.
And plot no revenge of any type!
Especially intricate, quite above
my head!
It was a joke!
Actually I love women more and
more tremendously since I’ve
lost my mind.
I gravitate to their conversations in
the office.
I seek places where they congregate
and I bathe, bathe in their loveliness,
and non-threatening wit.
One of these for lunch. An old paneled
establishment where the chef rules.
He makes me a thumping cheeseburger
that defies gourmets. It shouldn’t succeed,
but does deliciously!
(I should say here that when I possessed
a mind I was a vegetarian.)
I hardly come up for air when I devour it!
Then burp and discretely fart with some
abandon, my chin greasy which I
darent napkin-dab for a while in my
gustatorial ecstasy. Ahhhhh! Shine on,
wondrous chin!
Then I turn my attention to the women
dining there. The lovely, bubbling
conversation. The buoyant laughter.
I could swim therein forever. It is
flawless!
Until...she without flaw!
Enters!
Drop-dead gorgeous! an understatement.
Sitted at a corner table, and draws all eyes
towards her as head waiter leaves maroonly.
The other women make excuses to each
other, and fairly quickly depart.
Just me and her.
And do I walk by her and stumble and
shyly apologize, and this awkwardness
the beginning of great romance?
Not a bit of it. Grow up, o Hollywood
Infected.
I flee too! But linger outside to watch
her through the window, street life
shoving at my back.
Alone, she is breathtakingly beautiful
in a shaft of rancid light.
I can take no more of her looks.
And loneliness. So walk away fast!
I’ve been promoted at work, thus
lacking most brain power helps.
Have a new, spacious apartment and a
cleaning lady, an ageless babushka.
Also, about to marry.
I’ve been honest with Tess.
She quips “Who needs a freakin
brain anyway? Or even much money?
Kind hearts are hardly witty, but
they’re purest gold!”
Labels: faking, feminism, humor, kindness, lose mind, marriage, wit
Monday, June 12, 2017
The Bends
-That’s it then! We’ve established
that you know everything.
-Slight exaggeration.
-So, how define Feminism?
-Living revengeful is the best well.
-I like conversing with you. Adds up
to nothing.
-Crazy Math is a motor, not a crutch.
Labels: conversation, Crazy Math, feminism, intellectual, revenge
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
His Teaching Career, Spanned
Wender College
September 4, 1987
Hi, I’m Cindy, but my Mom
calls me Cindy-Lou, which
I prefer.
-
September 6, 2017
First, I was born into the Whore Caste,
aka Women...
Labels: college career, feminism, innocence, mores, profession, professor, student, teaching, whore
Wednesday, April 05, 2017
A Modern Definition of Art
WOMAN 2
spouts inanely re
travails of HERO
and HEROINE.
She functions as
ditzy personality,
cardboard, not bale-
ful character. Feminists
insist her being
written out. Playwright
asks only Could someone
like this exist?
Perhaps your pouty Aunt
Dorothy? Or wittier Delilah?
(Next time give her a prick?)
His grating, prissy rule derided
roundly, play starts losing money. So
Producers order Chuck her!
He still tries sticking with Art.
Has full 24 to soundly luxuriate,
since Fat Jack truly observant.
But next day informed “Fuck you!”
Additionally, "Art is a fart blown
though the asshole of Time!"
Labels: art, Art and Money, Artistic Integrity, criticism, Drama, feminism, playwright
Friday, March 24, 2017
License and Restraint
Kreps and Mickey volunteered
to get the older folks to
the neighborhood picnic.
They arranged rides by
Mickey running a program
on his phone.
That took ten minutes, and
then the men for some reason
gravitated to violent sex.
Honest relationships were in the
air at that time, so both told
Cecily and Jeanne respectively.
The women shocked, the men insisted
one-and-done.
You'd think the shock would wear away,
but...well it might have, but the men
couldn’t keep their promise.
They have since moved in together.
Jeanne and Cecily facilitate each other.
The latter has stopped computer games,
and the former helps her to culture up instead.
Now, no more isolating and drugs, like
Emily Dickinson on Speed!
Instead, discussions re Jane Austin's novels.
Along that line, also, Cecily now goes out with
Dr Kelvin Morrisey, Brit Lit teacher.
Jeanne has become a performance artist, her group
lately taking over a neighborhood vegetable grocery
to scream feminist couplets at each other.
To the jabbering consternation of Hong and
Vera Lee, newish proprietors.
Well. Now. If the original men had restrained
themselves, two Chinese would be relatively
happy.
But! two Caucasian women have stopped
“chewing the cud.”
To use their agreed-upon description.
Employ your own cliche here. Life?
Urban Existence? Passing Parade?
Goddamn Fools?...these forms of
speech can run on much too far also.
Labels: computer games, Emily Dickinson, feminism, homosexual, Jane Austin, relationship
Wednesday, March 01, 2017
Many Awards
Enough was enough!
Mel told his Calendar Robot to
cancel all Tuesday’s appointments
and move them.
Done! With the exception of Tony’s
Italian Market.
There Mel himself had to phone,
repeating last week’s order.
But...didn’t sit right with Tony,
who liked to talk about things,
all things. The order a sidelight.
Certainly not to hear customers
nervously repeating themselves!
Somehow, his personality triggered
Mel’s original robot reinstating all
Tuesday’s appointments.
With the motto:
Days off are the Devil’s Playground
Mel had to confess his failure to
girlfriend Dorothea.
“Well I tried! The Disney One-Day Super Whamzoo will hafta wait.”
“Wait? What slaves best at!”
She overstated, and has been warned.
But she persisted.
LuAnn appointed new girlfriend, coming
with many awards.
Labels: days off, feminism, future, future of work, girlfriend, Slavery, statement and overstatement, women
Wednesday, January 25, 2017
A Heart Resolved
Our Gen, for Gennifer, had
one defining characteristic.
Always.
She marched. For Feminism mostly,
but she needed no persuasion to
go anywhere and march for other
causes.
She burned with conscience!
"You could ultimately win, Gen! Over!
What would you do then?"
"Somewhere they're not winning.
The opposite."
So, she’ll die at one of these events.
Massive, as against this threat of
a president. Or ragtag somewhere.
She feels even more alive at the latter--
if that's possible.
Labels: collective action, feminism, injustice, Justice, march, Women's March
Thursday, September 29, 2016
M&F
M
She showed up in a red pantsuit for the debate.
What does that say?
F
It says “We’re here and we’re bold! We’re no longer putting up with your demeaning horseshit!”
M
It says all that?
F
In spades!
M
Oh well, add that to the fact that you never stop
talking anyways.
F
By all means! Add anything you wish.
M
Maybe he can look bolder next time? Borrow one
of Sonny’s old outfits from Sonny and Cher.
F
You win all the trivia contests from here on.
Labels: feminism, Hillary Clinton, presidential debate, red pantsuit, Sonny and Cher, trivia, Trump
Monday, September 19, 2016
Executive Style, Female
-The women have grabbed the positions
and what do they show?
-Detail! Chicken-Shit Excruciating detail! Fly-Speck...!
-I get the point!
-Molto! Molto! Molto! DETAIL!
-Ghinny talk doesn’t fit spreadsheets.
-Nor do I!
-Well, Anti-Fem, what, really, do the girls lack?
-Leadership!
-Well, your Cindy back in your department
IS evincing the PMS version as we speak!
Better get back, no?
-Oh God, why hast thou forsaken me?
Labels: anti-feminism, detail, feminism, leadership, PMS, spreadsheet, women, women executives, women leaders
Sunday, July 03, 2016
The Diverse Couple
Some women, some things never get old.
Reps never looked into that famous mirror
of course. If he did, it would proclaim
HIM the fairest of them all...in the equity
meaning of that term.
How to be fair to all! obsessed his life.
His friends were racists. No matter.
He worked on them constantly, drawing
out concessions from even the hardest-core
hater.
His Laurel was fair enough. Really didn't think
much of major issues. Her signature utterance:
“I want a big cock!”
Sending girlfriends into hurricanes of laughter!
Always. New to them each time she said it.
He was normal in all respects, even dully so.
The other married women were red-faced-
pleased after her famous phrase.
A popular couple. He joined the church, and
she went along.
Though, "Why bother? You're holy enough!"
Feminism tried to throttle her, then pin her
down. But "What's the fuss? I get what I want!"
That's the picture. Unchanging. Unchanged by
kids, too, since they decided no.
The years...! Well, did what years do.
They're in Bide-a-Bit now, one of the cottages.
Lovable eccentrics, to Dotty Heller, RN, who drops
by once a week.
She’s so professional that Laurel never pulls her
big cock line. Reps bit crotchety, feeling the
younger generation resigned to chewing ashes.
Labels: equity, fairness, feminism, Old Age, sex, unique couple
Monday, March 28, 2016
Minor Chapter, Major War
-Celeste marched out spouting some feminist shit! I’ll never understand that crap!
-Easy! You inflamed her with your stupid macho!
-I bent over backwards!
-Great mistake! They plot together when they sniff weakness.
-Then, where’s the cure?
-None! But a partial one consists of two words. Unchanged since the cave.
-Yes, Dear?
-And YOU’RE insensitive? I think NOT!
Labels: breakup, feminism, relationship
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Sides Of Coins
-He calls me Baby!
-What’s this? Forties noir flick? Sam Spade to
some blanched apprentice whore?
-I like it!
-What does he like? Have you shown him the
fanged feminist yet?
-He has seen--ahem!--all of me! And it’s not bad.
-Question of time!
-Yeah? Well it’s all on my side. It’s love love love!
-Stupidity in thirds!
-The total package!
-Yet another apostate! No matter: We go on!
-Hey, Seneca Falls a tremendous town, but you can’t
live there 24-7!
Labels: "Baby", Elizabeth Cady Stanton, feminism, film noir, pet name, Romance, Sam Spade, Seneca Falls Convention, Susan B Anthony, women's rights
Tuesday, December 01, 2015
Gone Commercial
Two Males Fathom It Inside the Golden Ring
-We don’t hafta talk like this!
-You mean like an endless loop of a brainless
TV commercial?
-Oh I’m so EXCITED! To think that a PRODUCT...!
-Was it ingested, applied, or shoved up your ass?
-All three at once! Then one rides off in a SEXFIRE-8!
-We can escape. Our wives did.
-Left with men sans vocabulary.
-They’ll see the light!
-They don’t want the light. Not what they wanted.
What they ever want.
-But, we’re clever!-–within the limits of the perpetual
commercial we’re locked into, of course.
-If we stay here, we’ll receive other women.
-Approved ones?
-What else?
-But you get tired of hearing the bullshit repeated and
amplified by them!
-I thought they were all Feminists, and therefore...
-That died. MONEY too against it.
-We’ll just leave. Defy tradition!
-Oops! I better get this call. Oh, just a text. “Don’t even
THINK about it!”
-We MUST stay?
-Oh well, there’ll be other and greater commercials.
And funnier!
-Can’t wait? Uh, can I wait?
-We both can and must, and we’ll be loved for it!
-By women?
-A succession, and as sexy as products!
Labels: commercial, commercial trap, feminism, product, sexy ad, TV, TV commercial
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Ire in Higher Circles
Making Law Midst Insult
"Yeah, nothing stings like the taunt of a fool!"
“Well, I'm stung all right! That Fairy! That intellectual
non-weight! Without government programs and insane
patrons he'd be...”
“Shining shoes?”
“No, that takes a knack and some brains. He's got
neither. In anything!”
“We can get back at him. It's gradual. Starts with a few
phone calls.”
“How about one? To a hitman!”
“Dumbest bastard ever to draw breath, and he's that
much under your skin?”
“And a big man with the ladies, would you believe?--fighting
his fruity self.”
“They like to baby simpletons.”
“Yeah, especially with big dongs!”
“Another reason to hate him!”
“Women are Stupidos! Can't help it. Half in their genes.”
“And you run as a feminist!”
“What's the difference which lie you run on?”
Labels: anger, feminism, insult, politics
Monday, January 27, 2014
Female Performance Art
Steady State
-All white males on the panel discussing us, so we went
as barefoot and pregnant, some holding plastic babies
or rag dolls!
-Jesus! At the most prestigious university on the planet.
How did they react?
-Shit. A. Brick!
-They needed it! And did your little drama group sustain,
hitting others equally deserving?
-Hey! You run out of energy!
-Too true, but the younger people come along.
-Yeah, but the Pricks stay constant. Steady State. This is America!
Labels: America, Conservative, feminism, performance, university
Saturday, May 25, 2013
“The Porch of the Maiden”
Named by my father, who was well-read,
especially for the neighborhood.
She sat there of summer evenings and
never wore a shirt. She had been our tomboy,
angry organizer at our pickup games, exhorter
to get us to play with some directed passion.
All that ended with her porch gig, which
meant nothing when she resembled a boy,
but soon the little breasts were baseball-sized.
Her family eventually prevailed as she
never appeared there without crossing her
arms in front of her chest.
Then, in course, wearing a t-shirt, brilliant
white. Florescent before summer storms.
Soon, quite a surprise as she joined the
other girls, actually the girlie-girlie
contingent talking endlessly of boys,
and trading movie magazines.
She fooled us, too, by going to Commercial High
for the secretarial course. She, and a few others
in the city, though, transforming girls’ basketball
by playing a quick-passing, even driving, game.
Again her path diverged, being given a basketball
scholarship by Syracuse in the degree field of
Sports Management.
But she threw her queasy family a final joker by eloping
in her freshman year with a new graduate of that program.
They lived in a lot of New York towns after that, he doing sports spots for radio stations.
When female twins arrived, he, fortunately,
took over the management of a small FM outlet.
By the time he handled sports for a major
New York TV station, she finished her degree
at Columbia. But in Social Work.
She now works for an organization encouraging
young women to enter the sciences.
A very womanly woman to be sure, but one thing
never changed. The fierce brow.
Named by my father, who was well-read,
especially for the neighborhood.
She sat there of summer evenings and
never wore a shirt. She had been our tomboy,
angry organizer at our pickup games, exhorter
to get us to play with some directed passion.
All that ended with her porch gig, which
meant nothing when she resembled a boy,
but soon the little breasts were baseball-sized.
Her family eventually prevailed as she
never appeared there without crossing her
arms in front of her chest.
Then, in course, wearing a t-shirt, brilliant
white. Florescent before summer storms.
Soon, quite a surprise as she joined the
other girls, actually the girlie-girlie
contingent talking endlessly of boys,
and trading movie magazines.
She fooled us, too, by going to Commercial High
for the secretarial course. She, and a few others
in the city, though, transforming girls’ basketball
by playing a quick-passing, even driving, game.
Again her path diverged, being given a basketball
scholarship by Syracuse in the degree field of
Sports Management.
But she threw her queasy family a final joker by eloping
in her freshman year with a new graduate of that program.
They lived in a lot of New York towns after that, he doing sports spots for radio stations.
When female twins arrived, he, fortunately,
took over the management of a small FM outlet.
By the time he handled sports for a major
New York TV station, she finished her degree
at Columbia. But in Social Work.
She now works for an organization encouraging
young women to enter the sciences.
A very womanly woman to be sure, but one thing
never changed. The fierce brow.
Labels: ambition, feminism, Porch of the Maidens, social work, Sports, Sports Management, tomboy, women's sports
Thursday, May 09, 2013
Free Inquiry
“I’m to moderate the damn panel! CSPAN no less.
Well I got two Yalies, and one each Princeton and Harvard.
And a striving-strident academic broad from
East Jesus Nebraska Normal School and Storm Door Repair Facility.
Okay okay, I’ll soften it. She’s Yale grad. But abdicated
for the desolate prairie, cheapening the brand thereby.
I’ll give her a sentence or two for the hicks back home,
then cut her off. Quicker if she injects the feminism shit.”
Labels: academic, CSPAN, feminism, Harvard, Nebraska, panel, Princeton, Yale
