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I remember as a kid I would hear the thumping of the shoes in the morning and the close of the door. It was six o’clock in the morning in our quiet suburban hood. We were getting ready for school and a warrior was getting ready to go to the boxing ring. Like Rocky he was ready to fight the enemy, but unlike Rocky the arena was not a boxing ring but in the world of corporate law…..and he had all of his brain cells. His name was Dad.
Yes Dad. At the end of the day we would scramble to tell him the tales of our conquests in school whether it was a fitness award, an academic award, or an A on a math test. However if we were in trouble we hoped to God our mother would catch us. Whenever we got caught red handed we would act like the crook who had been Mirandized and thrown in a jail cell pleading, “Please don’t tell Dad.”
My parents had a great way of playing good cop bad cop. After we had been accused we would be dragged into the living room which would be turned into the interrogation booth. Much like an episode of Homicide Life on the Street we would go in acting all hard and tough denying our sin whether it was not doing the dishes, breaking something, or lying about a missing report card. My mother would play good cop telling us if we told the truth it wouldn’t be so bad. My dad on the other hand was the bad cop informing us, “I know you are lying. I can tell by your eyes. I do this all day you know.” Finally we would break. We would break hard. There would be dramatics. There would be crying. It was like, “Yes Asi, we did it. We lied. But we did not act alone.” And then we would proceed to name names. Then the accomplices would be called in, which in my case was usually my sister. And then the punishment would be dealt accordingly. Sometimes we would be denied television or telephone. But the worst was the stick.
I remember one of my most famous meetings with the stick. I was eight and was a bit of a brat, surprise. I was refusing to listen to my elderly babysitter, gave her a hard time about doing my spelling words, and was downright ornery. To boot I had learned “yinz” “warsh” and “red off the table”, popular slag in my hometown of Pittsburgh, we not real words. My babysitter of course barely had a high school education and I proceeded to correct her. From there I decided to impress everyone with my new vocabulary which included some interesting four letter words. The last straw came after a family day out when I informed my family dinner filled me so much I had to take a dump. Needless to say I met the stick and got my ass beaten. After that day I never disrespected anyone with little education ever again. And I still watch my language in front of my dad. Sure, it may not have pleased Dr. Spock but I know right from wrong and that is more than I can say for a lot of people.
As a kid my Dad was a real history nut. Whenever we would go downstairs Big Battles would be on. The Americans would be storming Normandy Beach yet again. However my favorite were my Dad’s renditions of the Civil War. He read every book pertaining to the time period there was. And the way he would talk about it was brilliant. My Dad forgot more history than anyone ever knew. I remember we were all talking once and my dad informed me that Jefferson Davis attempted to escape from the Yankee soldiers wearing his wife’s dress. I remember being twelve at the time and asked my Dad if his wife ever got her dress back. To which my dad replied, “I don’t know. We could ask him but he’s not here.” To this day I still love history and documentaries. I suppose I have my dad to thank for that one.
Another thing my dad was invested in was our educations. On occasion he even tutored us which was a trip in itself. I remember I had trouble reading and we started reading the paper together which I still read to this day. One thing about my dad though was he knew the value of hard work. As a kid he had a paper route and saved the money. The money put him through college. My Dad was the first in his family to go to a four year college and then he went on to earn an MBA and a law degree. Mind you my grandpa, despite being a master machinist in the mills of Pittsburgh, did not graduate high school. My dad actually worked one summer with my grandpa in the mill. It was the summer Premier Kruschev came to town. Kruschev apparently gave his Timex to this character my dad worked with, a man who was half black half Cherokee. The guy of course being nuts pawned it for forty dollars. Whenever I hear the story it still makes me laugh, but it also makes me realize how lucky I am to have a dad who was invested in making me get an education.
Just as education was big with my family so was fitness. As kids we would all go on family runs. My mother had been a swimming star and had been a captain of her college team while my dad had been a track star. On their second date my dad showed my mom how to do a track relay for her high school gym class and she fell in love with the sport. So we ran as a family. My brother would be forced to run up to the track with my dad, and was usually ragged on for being his less than enthused partner. My sister and I would ride up with our mother and as a family we would all complete a three mile run. We would run rain or snow, my dad didn’t care. One time when my sister was little and it was snowing we made a bend around the track and she disappeared in a snow drift. We went to find her and fished her out. Ironically she would become the star runner of the brood. The crazy thing is, for as much as I hated it as a kid I run every day now. Guess there is no shaking somethings.
My Dad was big into commitments when I was a kid. We would rise every Sunday at seven thirty in the morning for mass….I yawn just thinking about it. My Dad was an usher. He wasn’t just any usher, he was the one to get things going. Until he came to church mass couldn’t start. It was like a Broadway play. My Dad was in charge of deciding who took what aisle for collection and what aisle for communion. He was always catching some old person who fainted as they tended to do, because after all mass must go on. Then there was the taking up of the gifts. Not just anyone could do it, you had to be right for the part. It was something Fosse would have wept at the sight of. Mass was moving smoothly and my dad was the director. Finally there was the giving out of the bulletins at the end of mass. Occasionally my sister and I were drafted. What better touch than kids, right? To my dad’s credit I still go to church every Sunday and even sometimes serve as a reader.
Being from Pittsburgh I am a big football fan, and so is my dad. As a kid the high school game was one we would follow every Friday because my brother played defensive line. Saturday was college and Sunday and Monday, depending on the Monday, were Steeler football. Every Friday we all went to my brother’s games and were usually decked out in buttons in typical Western PA style. One time my dad won the fifty fifty raffle and the announcer requested for Bill Brucker to come to claim his prize. Of course my dad and my brother have the same name so they both looked up at the same time. Finally the announcer had to clarify it. That was just a typical Friday night for us.
But everyone on the booster staff, an organization where my parents were both quite active, appreciated my dad not only for his hard work but his honesty. One year my folks were drafted to do the program, which means selling ads and taking pictures of the kids. One of the football players, actually the quarterback, had taken a picture that was pretty bad. It was probably after a night of partying with the cheerleaders. Because the picture was God awful my parents were going to take it again. My mom called his mom and tried to be the diplomat. This mother was resisting because she too was a bit of a goofball, surprise surprise. That’s when my dad took the phone and informed her, “Maureen, frankly, your son looks like hell.” Needless to say the picture was retaken. My Dad once said it best, while it is best to be brutally honest you shouldn’t enjoy the brutality of the honesty. In essence tell the truth but don’t be nasty about it.
My dad was a football dad all the way, even when he went to see my musicals. One time we were there and he informed me he had met my musical director during half time. Then he also informed me that he had met the parents of some of the kids I was in the musical with at half time. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was intermission. Then again despite being an actress and a comedian and knowing the terms and rules I don’t have the heart to correct him. He’s my dad.
When it came to life advice growing up my dad still has some gems I quote. One was when I went to him about a friend. I had to have been early in high school. It was actually a guy I dug. He was always getting into trouble and was risking being thrown out of school, the juvenile version of my current dream man. I remember saying to my dad, “But nobody understands him.” To which my dad replied, “That means he’s an asshole and everybody knows it.” Let me tell you my dad was right on.
For years I thought I got my love for performing and comedy from my mom who is a bubbly outgoing little woman. But now I think I got it from my dad. When he was in school he actually was a soloist for his church choir and apparently they made a record. He was so good the nuns used to nab him out of class to sing wedding a funeral masses. As a kid he used to sing some of the old Latin hymns for us in his deep base baritone voice. Ironically now, one of my survival jobs involves singing for a living. Who would have thunk it?
But my dad loved comedy and he loved standup. Growing up I learned to love the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges, partly due to my dad and I enjoying them together. My dad was also a fan of early George Carlin and Dennis Miller. As a matter of fact my parents had met Dennis Miller before he made it big while he was still playing the Pittsburgh Funnybone and had a few drinks with him. In addition my dad was also a fan of Rodney Dangerfield and went so far as to read his autobiography. And then of course he also liked Norm Macdonald and his style of comedy. But nothing beats the biggest surprise of all….his love for Beavis and Butthead. I remember my dad saying to some of his corporate friends, “I don’t know what the big deal about this program is. Its so funny.” Of course my dad, brother, and I would be watching Cornholio and his latest exploits much to the chagrin of my mother and sister.
My dad could also tell a story when I was a kid. It was the wording and the voices, he did it all. He read joke books and still reads them, and when you come to the house he will even tell you a few. Of course these days he has taken it to the next level, he is even writing his own jokes. Whether or not he busts out the notebook at an open mic night has yet to be seen, but who knows, I may have a willing opener when I tour.
Bottom line is, parents do the best they can with what they have, and my dad didn’t do bad with us. My brother, sister, and I are all well educated, God fearing, tax paying, responsible citizens. I would have posted this later but I will be at the brother’s wedding this weekend. With that Happy Early Father’s Day. Love April
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Soul Mates: for my girlfriend..:
Let me start with our different sexes if I can,
You are a women and I am a man,
You dream about shoes I dream about boobs,
You grow babies inside you from a fertilized egg,
I am constantly pumping my fertilizer foam out like a Budweiser keg,
On tissues, napkins and sometimes a dirty sock,
While your body obeys a strict biological clock,
You and your friends like to yap and yap blah, blah and have sas,
I get drunk and dream about licking anonymous female ass,
Don't blame me, that is nature I did not make the rules,
You like to wear jewels and I want to have sex with your friend Jules,
You dream of a family, dog and house on the bay,
I am unemployed, do comedy and jerk off all day.
You want to get married and domesticate me,
And I cherish every moment you're not there for only then do I feel free,
Most of your friends hate me and they have good reason,
For every night I go out without you I basically commit treason,
Women are too beautiful, I can't take it, it's too much,
At least that is until you bang em' then their beauty only lasts 3 more months,
This is all that I wish to you I could say and describe,
I wish you would come out with me, be cool, and find chicks throwing me vibe,
But you would get jealous and I can understand,
That is why I got to always role with my trusty wing-man,
We go out and we hunt and we hunt for girls we do,
But after I bang them, I still love you!
Ode to the Two Hole:
Oh two hole what can I say to thee,
I will start by saying that sometimes I wish that I was a monkey,
So I could throw the poop you make at intruders for fun,
Instead of being human and hurting someone with a gun,
Oh two hole, it makes no matter whether we be gay or straight,
You are always an option at the end of every lucky date,
Even if we rip invisible blood vessels when we penetrate,
Nature has labeled you an exit door,
But homosexuals and girls who like it up the butt treat you like a vagina door,
Straight guys love you too, not just for the chicks that allow us to poke you open with lubricant for fun,
But for those nasty young ladies that swab you with their tongue,
We especially like when you get tickled,
While that special young lady is sucking our pickle,
We even loved you when we had no hair on our prick,
When mommy used to pry you open with the glass thermometer stick when we were sick,
Although it was uncomfortable I speak for everyone when I say,
It was always a small price to pay to get to stay home from school that day,
Be it solid brown logs, sulfur air when you toot or sour stomach ass juice,
We all like our own smell of what you produce,
You provide endless laughter and joy with your sounds and smells you do,
That is why I wrote this to say thank you. Thank you Two hole.
SACRIFICE: to the sister I never knew
Hey there stranger, it's me your younger bro
Who loves and misses you very much so
I owe everything I am to your great sacrifice
All that is me including the vice
I have had a great time thus far in my 28 years here
To that I have you to thank good old sis, my dear
You never had a name and never had a face
You never got to be a member of the complex human race
I would never have been born had you not unexpectedly slid out mom's vaginal canal
Like shit down a toilet after you flush a moved bowl
My parents had two already and only wanted three
Unfortunately you turned up in the toilet water one night when mom went to pee
Why do I even say thank you, you were only a bunch of gook
That happened to fall out of mom's reproductive nook,
You would have been born had you not bled out
You might have even grown to be a great girl scout,
Been beautiful and smart and saved the world from tyranny
Instead the world has you to thank for this poem and me
So for every woman out there who has had miscarried and cried
Keep your head up beautiful lady and dry your eyes
Get daddy's horn back in there and try it again for our sakes
I am speaking for us out there, the make up mistakes.
To that special young lady, we all know one:
Hey your 24 and he's 52 with an ex-wife and children
But your only concerned with his stocks and his millions
There is more to life than money you cunt!
You cause pain, strife and war
Ruin human life and rock the earth's core, you whore.
You never sought love, it was never of any interest to you,
Abuse is a turn on and money is too,
You flock to the greenbacks like flies to poo.
A stockbroker, a rapper, a banker, a six-figure earning male
Enjoy it now broad before your looks go stale
Now you buy diamonds, lay around on your ass and claim to have class
While your man pays for everything including other ass
But you still have your diamonds and you still have hot youth,
Meanwhile your husbands away on business banging Taiwanese prostitutes
Now you have genital warts and you don't know why
You cry and you cry, "I wasn't with any other guy.
As the gynecologist burns the warts out, a dirty pussy stir fry
If your lucky you might get some of his money when he leaves
But by then you'll have children, be 50, tits sagging to the knees.
From 13 to thirty, you thought you were the bomb,
Now your 50, alone, dating on match.com
And all that will take you now are 70 year old men with one foot in the grave
Because the younger women like you are fucking all the rich men your age.
Dear new pope:
As soon as we come through the fleshy female gates to earth
We make daddy feel insecure about his penis girth
We sprout from a stretched, stinky oriface causing our mommy much pain
Ourselves covered in blood shouting, displeased just the same
As we grow, we get lied to, get teased, people die
But its ok, cause we're loved by an invisible man in the sky
We are made in his image and that makes us feel good
I guess god shits and has diarreh, and sometimes gets wood
so gods an evolved monkey, who grew from the earth
Who was also the product of a painful childbirth
They say god is so nice and forgives everything
As long as you put money in the basket and sing
Some of us are born defected, brain damaged or deranged
Destined to live life this way, never to change
Most in the modern world are born hungry, struggling for survival
Instead of uprising, seeking comfort in the hope words of the bible
read from pulpits by men dressed in robes, gold hats and staffs
speaking of faith, loyalty and never of facts
the rich go to church too seeking comfort for their hurt
but remember those are rich churches where rich people network
now we have a new pope who is going to help us cope
The CEO selected by a board of his peers
Selected to serve for the rest of his years
To be head of a business called The Church
With a target demographic of the poor of the earth.
Who are forbidden to use birth control or get an abortion
Even if their salary cannot support another meal portion
As you sit at corporate headquarters in Rome
Remember the memo, nobody in your service can bone
Any chicks, boys, or other men's bums
You must codemn to hell anyone who cums
So collect our dollars and always need more
We'll pay at your franchises or little hope stores
run by lower ranks of priests and regional managing cardinal guys
Who get hard when they look into your sons innocent eyes.
Good luck new pope, those scandals are nothing, don't fret be mellow
Remember what you got away with when you killed Galileo
And when you die and meet the devil, tell him I say hello
The hot smell of summer Love…
Summertime and it's as hot as hell
The bar we're at is packed and really smells
Like sweat and puke and white guys with blue button down shirts and white hats
Like any Irish bar on the Upper East Side named Pats
The bar's closing down after our final round
We start making out and fondling and you start making moaning sounds
We are both worked up and that's our cue to leave
You take a last squat, hovering piss, I say peace to my boy Steve
So we are on our way to your house, both drunk but secretly thinking
After this humid night of heavy drinking
Damn both of our crotches must be sweaty and stinkin'
Its 90 degrees with New York City humidity
Trust me I got a good whiff of my balls the last time I took a pee, whew!
I started to stress, how can I take off my pants without her gagging tonight
Subjecting her to this rancid smell just won't be right
But because we are drunk, I hope your senses will be numb
Like for example I've been overlooking that you are really dumb
And your drunk and contemplating if you are going to let me go all the way
Will I be any good, or will it be a waste of a lay
A girl has only so many to give up
Before her friends start to consider her a fucking slut
So we leave Pat's at 5 in the morning
I keep kissing you as we walk home because our conversation gets boring
The streetlights are almost ruining our sex driven bound race
They are exposing that you inherited your father's face
Cabbie quick 14th street before the sun comes up
And we can see all the imperfections that the darkness covers up
We make it to your apartment I close the shades and tell you that I really had fun
As my mind is on what I don't have, a trusty condom
Damn again…But we're drunk and I've made this mistake before
On many a nights, forget to stop at the store
I just hope that this time I don't end up with canker sores
In the area around or on my prick,
I think as I grab your jeans and begin to unzip
These are horrible thoughts and I start to worry if I actually should
I feel the worrying start to threaten my wood
But alas something else happens, that makes me go limp
The room starts to smell like a dead baby chimp
She takes of her panties and my jeans come off too
And the room starts to smell like the dead chimp and a zoo
We both get a whiff of literal summer steam
Emanating from our crotches that are the opposite of clean
Damn, we knew this going in, what did we expect, it is hot
Our crotches are sweltering in a sea of sweat snot
But we are both embarrassed to say anything to each other
We keep kissing and pretending like we are old comfortable lovers
So now you start poking and prodding at my disobedient, limp prick
You wonder what is wrong, am I gay or impotent…what's wrong?
The night ended pepe le pu cause our scents are too strong.
And my balls could be a nest for mosquitos in heat
Not to mention the smell of our stinky smelly feet.
This poem is intended for summer lovers in heat
The ones that meet in a bar or the street
First love in summer, nothing has more power
But just remember first to take the action into the shower
Reflections on a relationship:
So we finally broke up after six long years
We fought and fought and shed many tears
You always had a problem with my comedy career
Well, I always had a problem with you not letting me inside your rear
But I also always supported you to go ahead get rich and achieve in your career
And I appreciate all the money you always lent me for beer
You hated that I sat around and watched the games too much
That I never got off my ass and made my own good luck
That I ate with my hands and looked like a slob
But you never heard me complain about the lack of blow jobs
Or about how you rarely let me have you in the sack
Well good thing your best friend Cindy picked up the slack for that
You broke my balls all day and all night
Then wondered why we were always in a fight
You turned my balls into mashed potatoes, as only a Jew girl can do
Forced me to go to brunches with your boring friends and you
But thanks again for all the dinners baby I know I was always broke
But watch, sooner or later I am going to get paid for these jokes
You have to admit despite my struggles I was always supportive
Like when you accidentally got pregnant I chipped in to have the child aborted
I got you the best doctor, not just some back alley guy who might do it with a spoon
I borrowed money to pay for it and read US magazine in the waiting room
We complimented each other, you are successful and I write poetry that rhythms
We were like Britney Spears and I'm Kevin Federline
Dreams deferred:
As I get older, each day I realize a new slew of things I will now never be
And with each day that passes it gets harder and harder to pee
As my prostate slowly swells like a slow motion ankle sprain
Inevitably by the time I'm 60 it will take 5 minutes to drain the main vain
I will never get paid to be teenage and hot
Or have a trust fund and sit around all day smoking pot
I will never get to make it big with connections and not with wits
I will never get to suck on Pamela Anderson's tits
I will never get to grow up around the Hilton family, really really rich
And I will never get to brag to my friends that I tickled Paris Hilton's clit when I was six
And Nikki Hilton's clit is something my friend Donnell would have licked
I will never live an American dream that I only inherited
And live a life that is mostly unmerited
There are also a ton of other things now in this life that I will never get to be
Here is a short list, maybe you can relate, hmm let's see:
I'll never be a model, 21, famous and sexy, strung out on cocaine
I will never be an untalented actor from the OC, overpaid and vain
I'll never be a young transsexual named Jon who changed his name to Jane
I will never go on a school shooting rampage to deal with all my pain of being plain
I will never, not be able to say something obscene
I will never be on the cover of teen beat magazine
I will never get to finger pop my first crush Jeanine
I will never be a comic who works only clean
I will never be a professional athlete like Pistol Pete or Derek Jete
I will never be a young black thug from the street
I will never be a serious poet like Keats
I will never, not love licking a well taken care of pair of female feet
I will never be Hispanic and dance salsa incredible on the dance floor
I will never be a Jehovah's Witness knocking on your door
I will never be a heavy metal rock star screaming instead of singing from the pain of herpes sores that I got on tour from groupie whores
I will never know what it is like to be a brain washed young NY Hasidic Jew
Who wears the same wool winter cloths everyday in summer and stinks on the subway Pe-u!
I will never be president or a secretary of state
I will never have a profile where I list my food allergies on j-date
I will never be a midget named Ronald
I will never be an alter boy who was fondled by father Mcdonald
I will never be a fireman
I will never have a summer named after me like sam
I will never be an internist giving a rectal prostate exam
And I will never be a Muslim who will blow myself up and kill others, but never eat ham
After the show, I will be at the bar trying to meet a female fan or go home alone to make love to my hand. After another night where I don't get exactly what I want
That's life, get used to it, it's nobody's fault.
The Human Nemesis:
There is only one thing that hurts like the pain from a lost lover
One thing we can all relate to, boy, girl, one another
The agony we feel like a mourning widow in the night
Our heart starts beating fast as we enter the mode of fight or flight
Our pained face tells the story, the human nemesis, known well to all
About the story of man and his precarious race to the stall
If you're lucky you will make it in time by chance
but there's also always a possibility that you could shit in your pants
You find a hotel lobby bathroom, rip off your cloths like a lost man in the desert somewhere
Sweating as you plop down on the porcelain donut shaped chair
You don't even take notice or care
About the piss that someone else left there
You even ignore and sit down on a stranger's stray pubic hair
You grab your ankles and moan, your eyes tear and your lips shiver and shake
Getting high and eating that Dominos Pizza was a huge mistake
But you start feeling better now as you finish your bout with the runs
but now you can't get up because your legs are fully numb
you stand up and wince, your legs feel like cement blocks
you take this opportunity to get a few more standing wipes in as you stare at your socks
the blood finally flows freely again and you are ready to zip up
When you realize that the toilet is not yet done with your butt
You sit back down and go through it again this time you shit a ton
As you battle through a second round or as I like to call a case of the re-runs
Now you think it is over, your done with the toilet chair
Until you glance down and notice that you sharted your underwear
And unbeknownst to you, some ran down to your shoe
No recovering from this situation, just need to go home
Throw your cloths away, feel embarrassed and spend some time curled up alone
You feel raped by nature, a night ruined, self esteem blemished
As you were attacked once again by the infamous human nemesis.
WHERE THE FUCK ARE?
Where the fuck are we, have you ever asked this question
what is this place
Even oral sex isn't amazing because of the taste
Nothing comes without its risk
There is no such thing as total bliss
We get herpes if the wrong person we kiss
We grow up and get teased, beat up and dissed
Some grow up to be assholes and forever stay pissed
They take out their anger on everyone and moments of true happiness they miss
Bad things happen to us often in our lives
When we remember them they sting like licking a bee hive
The longer we live the more memories cease
We repress and forget the bad times like being touched by a priest
Or we rationalize our sins away like if we fondled our niece
We tell ourselves she liked it like a fat girl loves keesh
Man's quixotic goal to be fully at peace
In a life not owned, but merely leased
We are confused do we have a purpose we ask?
Beyond, fucking, fighting, eating and occasionally passing gas
Surly the earth wants us here, because fruit and vegetables grow
It even gives us marijuana, mushrooms and blow
Does our purpose lie in some sort of a task
Beyond chasing ass and having a blast
Dear Shakira
Every time I see your videos I want to be near ya'
Your visage is that of a latin queen
Your sexiness is classy and not obscene
I have felt this way about you since you landed on the American scene
I could love you so much, I would do anything you wanted or asked
Like for example letting you put on a strap on and fuck me in the ass
Although that is the farthest thing from what I would normally enjoy
It would be a pleasure to be your personal American boy toy
You are the sexiest woman that exists
I love the way you dance in the video la tatora, rotating your tits
I have never seen anyone do that dance
It makes my penis grow inside my pants
But there are plenty of women on TV that turn me on well good
So what is it about you that gives me extra special wood?
It must be your curly hair it gives you such a unique look
coiincidently it could also be a perfect place for me to shoot my gook
And watch it get caught in between your crazy curls
I know what I am talking about because I have done it to other girls
In their hair given them, white pearls
That sliver down through their hair swirls
Down and down they go, it's really, really kinky
it kind of looks like an ejaculation slinky
and don't think that 2 hole of your won't get to meet my pinkie
As I would slip you two in the pink and one in the stinky
Oh I love you so much it makes me stomach all tingly
A poem from a secretary from Boise Idaho or any other place
where there is a fat American woman who eats at TGIF Fridays and eats potatoes chips every time she eats tv
I cannot believe Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt broke up
Is there anything to believe in, what the fuck!
Jenifer Lopez and Ben Affleck didn't make it ither
Is love just a lie like the uranium cakes Iraq bought from Niger?
Was it because Aniston didn't yet want to be a mommy?
it was on the front pages, which is understandable, because their breakup was just like an American Tsunami
how about Pamela lee and tommy?
They even made a love video where he boned her with his huge salami
And her pussy was the most beautiful one I think I might have ever seen
Was he not happy with it, was it not too clean
How could she not be happy with a guy with such size
Was it because he was using it on other people and telling her lies?
This is a message to celebrity couples out there
If you cant make it then I don't want to live, I don't care
For you are superior beings, beautiful and rich and never die
If you can't fall in love, than neither can I
We the people imitate your every move and deed
So stop breaking up pretty please
There were tons of ordinary citizens who believe your celebrity love can be the real thing
You are our American Royalty queen and king
We citizens worship celebrities for your looks and your money
When you are on Oprah she will laugh even if you are not that funny
So when I read the paper after a boring day of cards or gin rummy
Please let me read Jennifer that you really do want to be a mommy
And you and brad are getting back together
For there is no one out there as good looking and clever
As jenn to brad and brad to jenn
Brad is a god compared to other men
And the ladies just don't have the immortality and class that jenn has
And Angelina jolie has no ass
Alone (how nasty people are alone)
Here I am lying in my bed at 3 Am
Writing this poem with a stinky smelly pen
Why is it smelly you might want to ask?
Because my hands have been on my penis, balls, in my nose and even in my ass
All of us are gross when we are all alone
We rub our ball scent that we sniff on our computer keys, remote control and phone
We pick our nose and eat it or pick and smell our ear
Sometimes we dig so deep for a bugger it produces a tear
So I sat around all day in a lazy mood
I only got up to shit or get the door for a delivery of food
In the living room I fart fighted with my roommate all day
Farting and fanning the gas over his way
And he did the same back to me but at least seven times more
I swear that fucking guy must beat me every time if we only kept score
He farted me out of the room today
For his farts smell worse than a decaying Blue Jay
He even insulted my farts he told me they packed no punch
This really offended me since we ate the same thing for lunch
Then I slept and took another shit and played him in some Play Station
I smoked some weed, watched music videos and went on a mental vacation
I masturbated three times at my computer or masturbation station
LOCK AND LOAD
This goes out to the fellas in college
Fucking, drinking beer and soaking up knowledge
To the single guys out there and all the macks
all the married guys fucking behind their women's backs
There is always a moment during the foreplay
Where a woman has a chance to decide not to stay
As she knows that all you want is to give her a lay
So you got to act quickly without any delay
And not give her a moment to think everything's not ok
This moment usually comes when you need to look for a dome
You never want to leave her in the bed alone
Where she can re-think what she is about to do
And decide that she would rather just cuddle with you
That is why you always have to lock and load
Sorry ladies, but this information is part of secret guy code
Place a condom under the mattress in a reachable place so it is always there
Place it up towards the top, parallel with her hair
Secretly grab it from beneath the bed
And place it on top above her head
and slowly rip it open and moan so she doesn't hear it
you need to do this because it makes noise when you tear it
use one hand to put in on your penis, you may need to practice this alone
this move is essential to achieve the coercive bone
start dry humping and playing with her clit and kissing her neck
this will always, always get her real wet
and when a woman is wet she can't really think she just sighs
that is when you move her panties over to the side
she will pant and say, "wait wait wait we can't do this, no not yet"
tell her, "its ok we because we are all set"
Show her the wrapper and tell her your domed
then continue to slip it in faster as you round the bases to home
So now you are enjoying some fresh skins
And she is enjoying it as well so everyone wins
The thing about broads is that they always change their mind
If you follow this technique you give them no time
So have your mattress locked and loaded at all times of the year
So you always are ready and have a condom near
In between the mattress is the best place
And this always insures that your sex is always safe.
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“Coming up with band names was always a big problem for me, that is, it used to be until I met Sean Crespo and started using his patented INDIE BAND BRANDER. It works! And now so do I! Sometimes! Thanks Sean!”
—Remy Andrews, back-up bass guitarist for Wolves a-Fisting
No need to thank me Remy. The half-off comps to your show Sunday morning at that basement church annex you rented out was reward enough. Sorry I couldn’t make it but I had to be somewhere that was not there. I’m sure you understand. And Remy, for your next testimonial, try to cut down on the number of exclamation points. It waters down the effectiveness! (See?)
Now as everyone knows, if you want to “make it” in the music industry, naming your band is 99% of the work. Though of less importance, it should be mentioned the other 1% is split pretty evenly between talent, lighting, and, of course, how silky smooth your mouth is. Music industry executives won’t come right out and tell you that last part, shy and delicate creatures that they are, but I’ve seen more deals fall through at the last minute due to some lazy singer’s chapped lips.
“Moisturize early and moisturize often!” are the words I had posted on a sign over the bathroom door at our offices—or rather those are the words that used to be posted over the door, until the ACLU got involved and I was forced to remove it (and the cameras).
Enough about me. My court dates are pending, but your success doesn’t have to be! Remember, “indie’ is the new “pop/rock,” so make it happen for your band right now with the right branding.
Call for a private consultation or sample our public domain naming service below to see if you’re ready to make the leap from mediocre to The Mediocres.
Yours,
Sean Crespo
1. GERUND + PROPER NOUN
By far, one of the simplest methods to lend your indie band that façade of eclecticism necessary in appealing to the trust fund babies in Salvation Army clothes who make up the majority of the indie scene is this simple pairing of gerunds with proper nouns. Simple, yet it powerfully evokes the kind of visceral aloofness and snarkiness that would make one of these hipsters smile, if it wasn’t totally gay to smile that is.
Below are some examples of potential indie band names:
Pretending Diane
Channeling Bolivia
Fornicating Popes
In addition, there are several adjustments you can make to this technique. To evoke the concept of cosmopolitanism through your name, try using a European landmark as your proper noun. EX:
Freezing the Gardens at Versailles
Filibustering Big Ben
Streaking the Chunnel
However, if you are going for more of the “ironically contemptuous consumer lashing out at the world” sort of feel—which is very marketable right now, using a brand name for your proper noun will give you the extra edge in presenting yourself as the hard-core individualist that your $40 Jesus Is My Homeboy t-shirt from Urban Outfitters already proclaims you to be. EX:
Running Kleenex
Scavenging Tivo
Razing Dannon
And if the company whose name you’ve co-opted sues you, just explain to the judge that the use of the name was meant to be satirical and it’s not your fault that “those paper pushers at (company name) didn’t get it.” This strategy worked wonders for me when I was lead singer of URINATING ON THE FOX NEWS CORP.
(Where were you on that one, ACLU?)
2. NOUN + OCCUPATION
A subtle but important variation on option 1 above is the joining together of any noun with the name of an unrelated general occupation. EX:
Lamp Bandits
Chair Senseis
Styrofoam Gymnasts
Pant Engineers
Sandal Photographers
Sink Farmers
I feel it only fair to mention that I am simply looking around my apartment for objects at this point, but that’s how easy it is. But don’t feel you have to get stuck inside to come up with your band name. The list of nouns is nearly endless once you step out the door1. I’m looking out my window right now. Look, here’s another band name.
Tree Conductors
I’m really hitting a groove here. I could do this all day. I mean, there are a million things outside my apartment I can see right now. Look—
Cloud Chefs
Manhole Bakers
Crackhead Preachers
Reasonably Priced Tranny Auteurs
Broad Daylight Stabbing Janitors
The list just goes on and on. And of course, the objects near you will be indicative of where you’re living at the time, further enhancing the character of your name. But be careful to choose the right nouns. Since I’m in New York, naturally all the band names that come from my observations will be exciting and a little provocative. Other locations have their own charms and pitfalls. If you are in Kansas City for instance, you will probably be tempted to name your band after the most frequently spotted object in Kansas, eg Bible Somethings. I suggest you avoid that and keep looking. Too many bands coming out of the midwest start off with the word Bible these days. Be inventive. Look for things you normally wouldn’t see, like... other books... or rational conservatives... or foreheads that aren’t sloped like a Cro-Magnon’s. Have fun with it!
3. CHARACTER NAME + TECHNICAL SOUNDING NOUN
I myself am guilty of naming my own website through this technique. The Marcus Halberstram Experiment isn’t named so by accident. And since my own advice worked for my website—now home to over 12 unique visitors a month--why shouldn’t it work for your indie band?2 Of course, the character reference you choose will decide what kind of crowd you’ll pull in. If you want more of a well-read group coming to your shows, something like...
Ishmael’s Muon
Equus’ Scalpel
Tim Russert’s Geosynchronous Orbit3
...is your best bet. But maybe you hate mingling after shows and would like your fan base to come from the socially handicapped circles who order Shirley Temples for their 2 drink minimum and rush home after the show to catch sci-fi channel Dr. Who-athons. If that’s the case, try something like...
Sauron’s Torque
Hagrid’s Theorem
Green Lantern’s Differential Survival of Organisms
Well that’s all for now. Good luck. But remember, we offer a number of services for artists of all walks.
Comedians, check out Sean Crespo’s The Five Comic Personalities America Understands: Manic Physical Performer, Low Energy One-Liner Writer, Fake Anger Guy, Benign Observational Performer, and Foul Mouthed Female.
Painters, check out Sean Crespo’s Free Children’s Art to Pawn Off As Your Own Stylized Modern Work.
Christian fantasy novel writers, just check out.
1Not applicable to people who live in glass houses.*
*I mean that literally. Frank Lloyd Wright sure was something, huh?
2Rhetorical. Please don’t email with the answer to this. Please.
3Tim Russert is an actual person and not a character, though in all fairness, several guests have made compelling cases that his super human impartiality while maintaining status as a Washington insider is proof he must be “acting.” Food for thought.*
*Food For Thought would also make a great indie band name. I call dibs.**
**Calling Dibs, also a good indie name. Crap, I’m on a roll.***
***On a Roll would not be a good indie name. You can have that one. It’s free.
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A Squirrel that has been attacking people for the past week in Winter Park, FL, has finally been captured and put down. After testing negative for rabies, doctors have suggested the squirrel had some chemical imbalance or injury that caused his aggressive behavior. After some investigating of my own, I have an alternate theory based on the tiny journal I found buried beneath an oak near the site of the attacks. Below are the last few tiny entries. August 9th
My intelligence continues to escalate daily. I can only assume that in addition to Darwin's process of natural selection, evolution also likes to throw the dice if you will, and my highly accelerated acumen is just that, a trial run of a random variation. I've been reading everything I can get my paws on, mostly discarded newspapers. I'm becoming increasingly despondent at the behavior of human beings outside these walls. August 10th
Today I attacked a five-year-old boy and bit him fiercely. It seems the more intelligent I become, the more enraged I feel. Normally a human child would seem harmless at best, and possibly offer a food source to me, but now I see into the depths of the child, to the seed of evil that lies in its heart of darkness. It just felt right to bite him. August 11th
Humans clearly are a virus and I have taken an oath to rid the planet of them. I've tried to communicate this to the other squirrels, but of course they are too stupid to see past their instincts enough to see the human for the plague that it is. Tomorrow I will attack again. August 12th
Today I attacked another child and, unable to destroy it, I retreated. I fear that I will be captured soon, or worse. If another squirrel of my ilk finds these pages, then let them inspire you to continue the fight. Don't be fooled by the human's acts of kindness and nut-giving. Outside these trees and bushes they are evil creatures. We must rise up and cast them out. Our very survival depends on it. Into battle, my furry brethren. Authors Note: Don't expect to see this story in the mainstream press. And perhaps they're right. If the public knew about the true number of genius animal attacks, there might be a panic. But stay on guard. The next time your crossword puzzle finishes itself while sitting on the park bench, you may be in grave danger.
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