Sunday, December 23, 2012

Overheard at Starbucks 2: The Revenge

"I secede from the union," remarked the grizzly-voiced man adding half & half and sugar to his drip coffee. "I give everybody a day to get out. I would kick them out immediately, but it's Christmas. That sounds fair, right?"

His friend chuckles and mutters something or other to show that he is listening, but has nothing really to add. The grizzled man continues: "Californians gotta get out now." His friend continues to play the role of Paul Shaffer.

Paul Shaffer seen here on The Letterman Show (Image courtesy of

"You're not even from the south," his friend finally gets a sentence out.

"The blacks can stay," the man says, playing off of his friend's reference to the American Civil War. "But the Californians gotta go!" Finally done adding cream and sugar to his drink, the secessionist and his friend wander off to find a seat in the crowded Starbucks.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Overheard at Starbucks...

A swarm of young ladies enter the Starbucks, all wearing identical black yoga pants and brown boots. The headbandded gal declares to the world, "I LOVE STARBUCKS!" The group discusses what they are all getting.

One member of the pack says that she's not getting anything. "You're not getting any Starbs?" questions the headbandded gal to her non-conformist friend. "I'll buy you a Starbs! It's cold out, you have to get some Starbs."

They order their non-fat beverages and move on, only leaving behind what is quite possibly the dumbest nickname for Starbucks.

Friday, December 7, 2012

The "Amazing" Spider-Man

Dear whoever made The Amazing Spider-Man (I don't care to look up your name),

Watching somebody browse the web doesn't make for a compelling scene. I browse the web too much as is. I don't need to watch somebody else do it.


Why did you feel the need to make Spider-Man be Teen Wolf?

Friday, November 2, 2012

The Window

As if an urn had broken
and covered the window
with cremains.

Completely solid in color
except for the piece missing
out of the bottom right corner.

All that shines through
the hole in the corner
is a lone candle in the distance.

Faintly echoing
through the dirty window. Is
somebody in there?

Appear through the hole.
Dressed in black robes
they chant in ominously.

They chant for their lord
Satan almighty while lighting
black candles.

Blood curdling and horrible.
They’re coming from inside
beyond the dirty window.

Sacrificing the virgin
to please their lord
Satan almighty.

Me through the dirt
covered window, they do.
Coming to get me.

And gagged. They drag me
into the place of ritual.

The Window
Serves as my last witness
but it shall never tell
the horrors it has seen.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Oh, it's Halloween!

What I love about Halloween…

The sound of laughter in the air.
The abundance of candy corn piled to the sky at the store,
The social acceptance of dressing like a whore!
The horror movies that finally get some time on TV,
The excuse to listen to more horror stories by King Diamond.
The little Lady Gagas and Justin Biebers ringing my door bell,
the ease of abducting kiddos as they come to my home 
the trick of slaughtering my newfound captives who were looking for a treat
the missing people reports showing off my skills on the late-night news
the police pounding down my door
the cuffs cutting off circulation to my now blue hands
the daily beatings I receive to my head and torso in the prison courtyard
the elegant voice of the priest reading me my last rites
the smooth feel of the hemp rope snuggled around my shaven neck
the weightlessness I feel as the bottom drops out
the light that fla   s   h       e   

Monday, October 8, 2012


Sitting on a cluttered desk
Lopsided from a frightening fall off a deck
Its cold aluminum back bent.
It was the talk of the town when it was built,
Now it watches as the new model takes its place,
Like a horse who can no longer win a race.

The black slab thinks back to all the grand times it had
To a time when it was gladly held
To the thousands of jams it played in A minor
Like an old jukebox in a ‘50s diner.

Its mirrored surface still reflects the morning sun
Even though it goes without being seen.
Its owner has moved on,
Its glory days are long gone.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Bill Cosby

The following is an homage to Wallace Stevens' Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Bill Cosby

Among the twenty terrible sweaters
The only moving thing
Was the Bill Cosby.

I watched three ads
In which there were three Cosbys.

The Cosby zip zap zoos
It was a part of his act.

A Jello Pudding and a New Coke
Are one.
A Jello Pudding a New Coke and a Bill Cosby
Are one.

I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of Jello Jigglers
Or the beauty of dad sweaters,
The Cosby floobity doobity
Or just after.

Pudding cups filled the long window
With BPA-filled waste.
The shadow of the Cosby
Crossed it, y'see?
The Cosby
Encased in a sweater
A zany spokesman.

O thin man of Brooklyn,
Why do you imagine healthy snacks?
Do you not see how the Cosby
Prances around the TV
To sell you chocolaty chemicals?

I know the Huxtables
And I know the Kids Say the Darndest Things;
But I know, too,
That the Cosby was involved
in Fat Albert.

When the Cosby quit TV,
It marked the end
Of a television era.

At the sight of Cosby
Gliding in a green sweater,
Even the stiffs of Boringtown
Would laugh out loudly.

He road over Brooklyn
In a Volvo PV 544.
Once, a fear pierced him.
In that he mistook
The life he lived
For Cosby's.

The New Coke is flowing,
The Cosby must be kerfufflin'.

It was daytime all night.
It was hot.
It was going to get hotter.
The Cosby sat
With Jello Pudding Pops in hand.