Tuesday, January 09, 2007

America: A Jerry Bruckheimer-ish Film
Rated R

All Politics Aside
It's time for an Assassination
No one in particular
The president comes to mind
But I would settle for a Vice
Or a Governator

If America is a Movie
And it is
We are in the long
Boring
Plot Thickening Middle
And I think it is time
For someone to get shot

Shot by some crazed
Out of work actor
Or something less cliché
Like a transvestite
Pro Wrestler
With Alzheimer's

There is too much talk
In Washington
And not enough
Getting Shot

As a citizen of this great country
I paid full price for my ticket
And I don't care who's in power
Nothing takes my mind off
The problems of the world
Like a good old
Assassination

So come on all you right wing kooks
You environmentalist whackos
You bi-polar anarchists
Bring your missile launchers
And your prison shanks
Make my popcorn
Taste of freedom.

Saturday, December 23, 2006

I put a possum in my pocket
Everywhere I go
To protect against probability
My sister says I’m superstitious
But Probability is Math
And Math is a Science
And Scientists are not superstitious

So to sway my sister
This is my hypothesis

The probability of a piano
Plummeting from the sky and
Pancakeing a passerby
Is for the sake of argument
A one in a million
That’s not bad
But not bad is not good enough
For Science
So I put a possum in my pocket

Let me show you the Math
No one has a possum in their pocket
Because they eat pockets
And smell like pee.
The probability therefore
of a person who has a pocket possum
getting pummeled with a piano is
One in the entire population of the planet

Now potentially
Upon publication of this premise
People will Put Possums
in their pants pockets
Pushing the probability
Past the perfection point
And soon there will be news stories
Involving people possums and pianos
Popping up all over the place.

That is not the fault of Science
That is the fault of my sister

Let me show the Math
Sassy sister says scientist
Sibling is superstitious.
So said sibling summarizes
A Scientific supposition
Which suddenly circulates
His safety secrets
Somehow the son of science
Synchronizes his standard
Into a simple syllogism

If you subtly store something simple
In a sack a sock or a side pocket
Said simple something will
Substantially supplement survival
Or
Probability protects
Providing persons
Are good at Math
And sister-less

So select something
Not a possum to potentially pocket
And live forever.
It’s Science.

Monday, December 18, 2006

So this weekend I heard an awesome performance on Garrison Keillor's radio show A Praire Home Companion by my new favorite poet Billy Collins. Here is his fan site. He has an entire one of his CD's called The Best Cigarette avalible through a Creative Commons Licencse. That is awesome. It is also at Download.com.

I'm pretty sure he is my new poetic hero. Read this poem that made me fall in love with him.

The Revenant

I am the dog you put to sleep,
as you like to call the needle of oblivion,
come back to tell you this simple thing:
I never liked you--not one bit.

When I licked your face,
I thought of biting off your nose.
When I watched you toweling yourself dry,
I wanted to leap and unman you with a snap.

I resented the way you moved,
your lack of animal grace,
the way you would sit in a chair to eat,
a napkin on your lap, knife in your hand.

I would have run away,
but I was too weak, a trick you taught me
while I was learning to sit and heel,
and--greatest of insults--shake hands without a hand.

I admit the sight of the leash
would excite me
but only because it meant I was about
to smell things you had never touched.

You do not want to believe this,
but I have no reason to lie.
I hated the car, the rubber toys,
disliked your friends and, worse, your relatives.

The jingling of my tags drove me mad.
You always scratched me in the wrong place.
All I ever wanted from you
was food and fresh water in my metal bowls.

While you slept, I watched you breathe
as the moon rose in the sky.
It took all of my strength
not to raise my head and howl.

Now I am free of the collar,
the yellow raincoat, monogrammed sweater,
the absurdity of your lawn,
and that is all you need to know about this place

except what you already supposed
and are glad it did not happen sooner--
that everyone here can read and write,
the dogs in poetry, the cats and the others in prose.

- Billy Collins

Monday, November 27, 2006

Political Animal

On Thanksgiving I took my brother’s cat out for breakfast sausage
But IHOP was closed.
Probably because of the stupid parade
So we decided to go home and drink Bloody Marys.

I’d been wanting to get drunk and talk politics with an animal
Ever since the election,
And because my brother’s cat is a communist
I thought I would pick his brain about the current political climate.

Communists are fun to talk to while inebriated in the morning
Or anytime really
Just because of their mixture of Marxist ideals and mustaches
And my fraternal feline is heavy on the facial fur.

So he starts talking about the war and segues into the future utopia
Cats tend to over segue
Then because I agree to his basic premise of putting capitalists into gulags
We end up toasting Stalin and shouting about Land Reform

Out of nowhere my brothers cat starts making Jew Jokes
And it’s uncomfortable
Either because it was Thanksgiving or because I was drunk, I laugh.
And to this day I feel guilty when I eat at Jerusalem Café.

Friday, November 10, 2006

Once again another amazing piece of documentary madness.

Get ready for Ninja moves and Annie Oakley

Without further ado Two Original Song Poems by Caglar Juan Singletary.



This is from the flick Off the Charts. It originally aired on PBS and contains some magic moments that are absolutely incredible people. This guy writes poems and sends them off to a company that makes them into songs. And he pays them money.

If you like watching real people who live strange lives rent this from your local library

Friday, October 27, 2006

The Observant and the Crossdresser:
A Morality Play


Man 1: Those are women's socks

Man 2: So

Man 1: I didn't know you wear women's socks

Man 2: There is a lot you don't know about me.

Man 1: I've never seen you wearing women's socks before

Man 2: Are you constantly aware of my socks

Man 1: I make a point to notice things.

Man 2: Socks?

Man 1: Occasionally I notice socks.

Man 2: I think that that is a problem.

Man 1: And I think that it is a skill.

Man 2: A worthless creepy skill that will cause you problems.

Man 1: Are you threatening me?

Man 2: Not specifically

Man 1: Was it a general threat than?

Man 2: Just a warning. Know that sock watching may have consequences.

Man 1: No that is a threat. A malicious threat. I'm going to press charges.

Man 2: Go ahead.

Man 1: I'm serious.

Man 2: Be my guest.

Man 1: Oh you better make the guest bed because I am not messing around.

Man 2: I'll tell my wife

Man 1: Those are her socks aren't they?

Man 2: My socks are my business.

Man 1: Maybe that would be true if you wore longer pants. But they are clearly visible, Ipso Facto they are public space.

Man 2: Ipso Facto. Are you a lawyer now?

Man 1: Everybody says ipso facto.

Man 2: Nobody just goes around saying ipso facto about someone else's socks.

Man 1: That's just it. They are everyone's socks. Because of your high water pants.

Man 2: Just because I like my ankles to breathe now my socks belong to the masses.

Man 1: Masses? What are you some kind of philosopher.

Man 2: People say masses. Don't try to make masses into ipso facto. They are in totally different worlds my friend.

Man 1: The masses don't say masses.

Man 2: Some do.

Man 1: But the majority of the masses don't say masses. So ipso facto, masses and ipso facto are the same.

(Pause)

Man 2: You really think people can tell. I mean black socks are black socks. I was out of black socks and she hand some socks so I thought. Who cares, nobody notices socks.

Man 1: You'd be surprised what people notice.

Man 2: The fact that you are not dead or in jail makes me think that most average people don’t notice like you notice.

Man 1: What is that supposed to mean?

Man 2: I mean if everyone noticed you noticing them all the time they would punch you or shoot you or throw you in jail.

Man 1: It’s not a crime to be observant.

Man 2: It depends on whom and how you observe.

Man 1: I’m not illegally observing important peoples private property.

Man 2: Well you sure are all up in my ankles.

Man 1: All up in? Snoop Dogg is in the house.

Man 2: Oh shut up. Mr. “important peoples private property”. That alliteration is out of control. You sound like a 19th century English poet on speed.

Man 1: Which one is the 19th century?

Man 2: The 1800’s

Man 1: I always get that confused.

Man 2: Maybe you should have noticed more in school.

Man 1: Touché

Man 2: Because it means that you concede my point, and I also happen to like the word touché, I will not make fun of you for using it.

Man 1: Very well. Where were we? Ah Yes. I may concede that historical observation is not my strong suit, but that in no way makes cultural observation, which is indeed my specialty, somehow as you have suggested illegal. I mean who are you to go around threatening “consequences” for people who notice the gender of other people’s footwear. . .

Man 2: Just lay off about my socks.

Man 1: You mean your wives socks.

Man 2: Whoever’s socks.

Man 1: They could be more aptly described as stockings, or maybe even pantyhose.

Man 2: (Punches him in the face)

Man 1: (On ground) I’m trying to think of something witty to say after getting hit in the face by you . . . Something with punching and women’s socks . . .

Man 2: (Pulls gun) Say it, but just know it will not go unpunished.

Man 1: You sock like a girl.

Man 2: That is funny but it seemed a little forced.

Man 1: I know.

Man 2: What about “you sock”.

Man 1: I thought about that but I think it’s too raw. And we lost the whole female angle.

Man 2: Yeah.

Man 1: I’ve got it. Those socks go great with that right hook.

Man 2: Touché (Shoots him in the face)

Monday, October 09, 2006

Ninja Revenja

What Ninja’s do when they’re not ninjaing

Have you wondered what ninjas do when they are not ninjaing? What are they like at the grocery store or at a party. How would it feel to be a ninja all the time. Come check out an all new free comedy show
NINJA REVENJA
And we will answer all your ninja questions including some you didn’t think to ask.

Two shows
Written and Preformed by
Billy Brame &
Brian Lechner
Friday October 13th
5:30 and 6:30
Downtown KCK in front of the Library
625 Minnesota Ave.

Check out our flyer here

Check out the Downtown KCK website here

Friday, September 22, 2006




So I am sitting on my couch watching a somewhat mediocre documentary called Poetry in motion when all of a sudden a cosmic event occurs. In between somewhat famous poets (John Cage and Allen Ginsberg) a group of "poets" called simply The Four Horsemen are introduced. The primal screams, the silly noises, I am just like what the heck. It was one of those funny things that feels weird to laugh at alone. I had to get up and turn the DVD off. The look on their faces at the very end was just too much. I had to rip it and share it with the world. And I recommend you do the same.

This is the link to the video I uploaded to Google here

P.S. I checked these guys out. I can't tell if they take themselves serious or not. They have an album called Live at the West and here is how they describe it.



P.P.S They are from Canada

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Paycheck to Paycheck
Till the Apocalypse
When my Savior Raptures me
From my Work ethic

Paycheck to Paycheck
Till Kingdom Comes
And Jubilee will take care of
Visa, MasterCard, and Discover

Paycheck to Paycheck
Till Judgment Day
Because my pastor said I have a purpose
And I’ve found that it’s expensive

Paycheck to Paycheck
Till Armageddon
When the enemies blood
Will sure up the war bonds

Paycheck to Paycheck
Till the Trumpet Sounds
And my house in the suburbs
Will still retain its value.