Spam I Am

Human junk they say I am.
They do not like me, Spam-I-am.
So what if I don’t know Voltaire?
I don’t think that’s here or there.

I don’t give a tinkers dam,
I’m representin’ Uncle Sam

Have you seen my big ’ole house?
Or my sporty, hunky spouse?

How I hate every lame-stream louse,
Can’t they appreciate my nice blouse?

Did you see my appearance on FOX?
The rest of the media can suck Todd’s co*&!

Only on Fox…Only on Fox…
Not in Wolfe’s house. Not with that mouse. (Rachel Maddow!)

I won’t speak to them here or there.
I won’t speak to them anywhere.
I will not take their oral exams;
gotcha questions from the lame-stream band.

I do not like bagels and lox,
but I will eat them live on FOX.
I do not really trust my spouse,
but I’ll fake it till I hit the White House.

I couldn’t care less if you hate who I am.
Just, please, follow me with your video cams.

A brain! A brain! I’ve got a big brain!
How ‘bout a misquoted quote from Mark Twain?

I know Mark Twain! Wrote a book, didn’t he?
I got it right! Look at me, look at me!

I would not, could not, stop in the Bronx.
I heard “those people” would give me small pox.

What did you say! There in the dark!
That’s no place for my bus to be parked!

I would not, could not, step on the F Train.
Around minorities my interest does wane.
I’m not comfy with disenfranchised peeps,
I do not like mediocrity.

Not in my house. Not in a box.
Not with my spouse. Not even on FOX.
I will not meet them here or there.
I will not meet them anywhere!

Did you ever read Green Eggs and Ham?
Seuss was a fascist, wasn’t he?

Could you, would you, buy MY books?
There’s lotsa big words, just take a look!

You will not like them? So you say.
Try them! Try them! And you may.
Buy them and you may, I say.
Do it for the USA.

I Love My Snuggie®

Okay, I’ll admit it: I’m a sucker for those as seen on TV products. Now that proclivity is leaking over to my kids.

Jake put a Criss Angel Mindfreak Magic Kit on his Christmas list; his resolution for 2011 is to learn to levitate.

Then, on Thursday when I took Jaxson in to school, one of the little girls we see going to class every day had a Pillow Pet®.

As soon as Jax saw it he started to sing: “Isss a piw-wo, isss a pet. Iss a piw-wo PET!”

(TRANSLATION: It’s a pillow! It’s a pet! It’s a pillow pet!)

Perhaps I should consider cutting down their television time, because it’s getting perilously close to Christmas and the advertisements are coming fast and furious. Jaxson screams out his requests during every commercial break and because those appear at intervals of every seven minutes or so, I find myself screaming, “We’ll see!” about eleven hundred times a day.

(Please don’t do the math or you will be able to accurately extrapolate the amount of time I allow the kids to watch television and, frankly, I don’t need your judgment—silent or otherwise.)

Anyway…my favorite ‘as seen on TV product’ is the Snuggie®. I used to be ashamed to admit I actually bought one, but now I am an unabashed card-carrying member of the Snuggie® contingent. My friend Kat Nove teases me about it with the same regularity as an octogenarian whose first meal of every day consists of bran cereal and prune juice.

She asserts my Snuggie ownership says a lot about me. I assert she can take her assertions and shove them into her Texas-sized boca grande. I will no longer apologize for my Snuggie-love. Snuggie keeps me warm on frigid Michigan nights as I watch Dexter or Glee. Snuggie is machine washable—the importance of which can not be underestimated in my household. Snuggie is soft and cuddly when I add a capful of lilac-scented fabric softener to the rinse cycle.

Snuggie is my friend.

My only complaint is that Snuggie is ‘backless’, meaning it’s basically a fancy hospital gown with longer, plusher, sleeves. I know, I know… it’s supposed to be sort of a lap blanket, but the thing that would make it perfect would be to sew two Snuggies together at the seams:

Snuggie II: The Ultimate Schmatte

Sales would go through the roof if they invented Snuggie Ulti-schmatte. Every Jewish, Italian and Puerto Rican septuagenarian (and I) would be lined up to get one.

So, get on it, Snuggie people. My ass is cold.

If you’d like to see what Kat Nove has to say about the Snuggie (and more) , check out her v-log post:


And now your moment of absurd Zen:

Snuggie Parody

Addicted to....Deadpan Karaoke

As the Remote Control Terrorist says, ‘the crazy broads’ are at it again. Just to refresh your memory, the RTC is Kat Nove’s significant other and that’s the moniker she thought best suited the man she occasionally shares her vagina with. At any rate, because we wrote him into WAITING FOR KARL ROVE (our fantastic book that hasn’t been snapped up by a publisher yet) we had to give him an alias. Family members can sue and the last thing either of us wants is family cashing in on the eventual success we know is imminent. We’ve both worked too long and hard for anyone but us to reap the rewards of our literary genius.

What the RTC was referring to when he called us ‘crazy broads’ was the following video, which we put together to cheer up a sick writer friend. Much Photoshopping was involved, not to mention more deadpan karaoke (sung to the tune of Addicted to Love) and a really cheesy musical rendition of Robert Palmer’s song - one that will cause him to roll over in his grave when he eventually dies. (He’s still alive, right?)

Anyway today’s blog is only for one person - you know who you are mister - but the rest of you are more than welcomed to partake.

ADDICTED TO DILL

A Few of My (Least) Favorite Things

1. Reality TV.

Seriously, do we have an ETA on when that stupid trend is going to peter out? Because I think America’s been dumbed-down to the point of reckless abandon at this point. It’s been scientifically proven that for every 30 minutes of reality TV you watch, you lose 5 IQ points, so some of you people should be in a cage with the apes at the Bronx Zoo, tossing excrement and sniffing your fellow inmates’ asses.

The only two network shows I watch are The Office and Glee*. (*Wouldn’t life would be wonderful if we all occasionally broke into song with an accompanying perfectly choreographed dance number and flawless costuming? And Jane Lynch is so yummy I could dip her in couscous and wash her down with a glass of chardonnay. )

2. Donald Rumsfeld, Karl Rove, Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh and Bill O’Reilly.

I probably don’t need to elaborate here. This also goes for FOX News. I prefer my propaganda with a big Nazi flag in the corner of the screen, accompanied by grainy black-and-white pictures of soldiers screaming ‘Heil Hitler’.

3. Seeing your underwear in public.

This applies to persons of the male and female persuasions. Guys, if you think it’s so important for me to see your Joe Boxers, just wear them over your jeans. It’ll look less stupid than having the crotch of your pants dangling somewhere around your knees.

And gals, (I’m talking to you if your jeans only cover half your ass and I can see your thong), if you’re under 25 and wear obnoxiously low-riding pants, you might want to re-assess your fashion sense. If you’re over 25 and embracing tween-fashion, you might need to re-assess your common sense.

AND NOW FOR YOUR MOMENT OF ZEN:

Ladies, have you ever wanted a bejeweled beaver? Well then, get in on the new fad that’s sweeping the nation. Everyone from Jennifer Love Hewitt to Kathy Griffin have gone the way of the shimmering snatch, so don’t be the last one on your block with a festooned frontage. Start Vajazzling*!

(*va-jazzle - to decorate your ‘down there’ area with shiny, glittery gems.)

My Va-Jay-Jay Bling sung to the tune of A Few of My Favorite Things.