The Twelve Days of Christmas for Millennials

It’s no secret that I have some pet peeves around Christmastime, not the least of which is that you lose about ten percent of any given serving of egg nog because so much of it sticks to the sides of the glass.  Not quite as annoying but irksome nonetheless is the changing of lyrics to a Christmas song in order for the good folks on Madison Avenue to entice your average ignorant consumer into spending hard-earned cash on unneeded and often unwanted products—especially if that song is “Carol of the Bells”.

Since hate is such a strong word that is overused ad nausea and almost exclusively in a political context, let’s just say I harbour an abhorrent detestation for “Carol of the Bells”—even with its original words in tact as it thoroughly and rather creepily resembles the playground taunts of my troubled childhood.  And changing the words to advertise the wares of a personal injury lawyer is less than helpful:

An accident
My fender’s bent
I’ve not a cent
Can’t make my rent… Continue reading

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Blame It On Rio

So I’ve been watching the Olympics this past couple of weeks.  Or trying to.  What with all the commercials and commentary and human interest pieces designed to get chicks to sit down and watch sports I think I might have seen a long jump.  And dressage.  Dressage.  Don’t get me started on stupid Olympic sports <coughcough rhythmicgymnastics coughcough>.  What kind of person is it that devotes years of their waking spare time to dance around with a little rubber ball?  And why isn’t Prancercising an Olympic sport?

Not to get on a rant here, but I’m about done with the Olympics—and it’s not just because I don’t know whether or not to capitalize the ‘the’ in front of it.  I alluded to the main reason for my apathy in the above preceding and foregoing paragraph, but more and more I am finding the Olympics downright unwatchable.  Thank you, various networks of NBC.  I’ll bet you didn’t know the Olympic theme had words.  Cue the tympani… Continue reading

Hillary Dillary Dock

FBI director James Comey made an announcement last week that actually had nothing to do with the fact that his last name would be a great slang term for Donald Trump’s hairstyle.

“What is that?”
“It’s a Comey.”
“I wish I had a Comey.”

Instead he made the shocking and yet entirely expected recommendation that there be no prosecution of Hillary. You recognize the name, I’m sure. Hillary has become a single name icon not unlike Madonna or Cher, partly because nobody is sure whether to say ‘Rodham’ anymore or not. When someone mentions ‘Hillary’ you no longer think Duff or Swank. There is truly only one Hillary.

Anyway… Continue reading

“A Letter to the Republican Party” or “Come on Fatso, Vote Trump or Cruz”

Happy Super Tuesday every one! I love Super Tuesday because it sounds like a Marvel comic book character from the 50s fighting for truth, justice and the American way against the evil forces of its arch-nemeses Bloody Sunday and Manic Monday.

As The Queen Mother and I intend to caucus this fine evening, we are sadly once again forced to choose between the least of evils, which has prompted me to offer a written word to the so-called Republican Party because they more and more act like an Alzheimer’s patient on bath salts in that they just don’t seem to have a clue as to what’s going on around them. And anyone who knows me at all knows that my preferred communicative medium is rap music, so…

With apologies to Young MC and his classic “Bust a Move” I give you “Come on Fatso, Vote Trump or Cruz” by Whyte Chalk-lit (my stone-cold G rapper name). Continue reading

O. Didn’t Start the Fire (Remix)

If you’re like me, you have recently been the victim of election results and the resultant celebratory and/or petulant result punditry that has so many people looking up the word ‘petulant’ these days. The bottom line is that the country has turned more red than an embarrassed Lenin with measles, and the egocentric pundits keep trying to wrap their giant heads around the question of why as they lie awake at night tossing and turning on their freakishly enormous pillows.

I am admittedly no political expert, but I have a theory as to the cause of the country’s sudden erythema which, at the risk of Continue reading