A note, found at a grisly suicide scene...
1. Plaid sweater from the Gap (makes us look fat).
2. Chic-Fil-A calendar (he's getting fat). **** you asshole! You are the tub of lard! Please don't go messing up my post. EAT ME.
3. Starbucks gift card (makes fat dumb**** gassy). I'm gonna kick your ass! Oh wait....you DON'T have an ass, lamebrain.
4. My turn ****stick....We are taking back that book of romantic poetry your faggot boyfriend bought you. Oh no you don't! That is my favorite gift and Harold was so sweet to think of us. US? I hat that mother-*****...always sticking his tongue in my side of our mouth! And he can't keep his hands off my ****. Your ****? I don't think so, girlfriend! But he does like your pretty little ass! SHUT THE **** UP!
5. That stupid tea set and biography of Liberace. RUBBISH you lotharian! It WILL NOT go back. I love formal tea service and Liberace was a graceful, loving human being. A man's man! You are a ****ing flaming faggot! Liberace was a turd pounder. And we won't have tea..NOT ON MY WATCH. OK, just fine. Do you want everyone to know about that night you went camping with Thad? I tried to sleep...I tried to forget about it....Great, you ***che-bag. THANKS A ****-LOAD. Now EVERYONE knows. IT WAS JUST ONE TIME. And it's your fault -made me go see Brokeback with your 'girl' friends. That's it. You've gone too far. I'm hurt. I'm taking back the Skil-Saw. The HELL you will! Thad bought that for ME! It was our first Christmas. What am I saying... I think we all know who the meat lover is in the family....OH MY GAWD....Does Mom know? I can't take this anymore....where's my 5 in one screwdriver set? PUT THAT DOWN. You'll put out our eye! Stop it! That hurts......NO!
Text ends......
28 December 2007
25 December 2007
A Surrealist Dog on Christmas Day
Kids up early. Let me out! Open door! Must go pee! Let me out! Make circles ‘til someone looks. They’re ignoring me! I’ll pee on the floor. I’ll do it! Wet circles of paint form mist in the construction of urban dungeons.
Finally, door open! Run, pee, go over by the bird bath, pee more, move toward the door, pee again. The unknown spirits plant severed feet beneath the basket of sleeping puppies.
Back inside. Wrapping paper being torn, discarded. Sniff a bow, smells like nothing. Everyone excited. Petunias serve as forks to kings in elderberry estates.
Room a mess. Paper scattered everywhere. New toys and clothes. Strange lighted tree still in house, blinking. Now people tired. Washing the red compass results in a wary glitch of observable time.
Finally! Someone feeds me. Dry food, no wet. Sniff first, then eat. Marionettes with daggers frighten alley cats beneath a shadowed moon.
People keep arriving. Bark, then bark more. It’s my house! You come in, I bark! Someone pets me, I stop. Shave the cast from the mummified remains; the energy of ancient thought floats visibly, then evaporates.
Tired. Nap time. Too much running, barking. Too many people. Growl at infant touching my face. Get kicked by master. Cortical functions become levers racing in orange.
All good now. Strangers leaving, me being fed, new toys to sniff, kids happy, masters tired. Must eat, take dump, go sniffing, then nap in peace. The wind finds serenity amongst the dead as camera eyes flicker in frustration.
Finally, door open! Run, pee, go over by the bird bath, pee more, move toward the door, pee again. The unknown spirits plant severed feet beneath the basket of sleeping puppies.
Back inside. Wrapping paper being torn, discarded. Sniff a bow, smells like nothing. Everyone excited. Petunias serve as forks to kings in elderberry estates.
Room a mess. Paper scattered everywhere. New toys and clothes. Strange lighted tree still in house, blinking. Now people tired. Washing the red compass results in a wary glitch of observable time.
Finally! Someone feeds me. Dry food, no wet. Sniff first, then eat. Marionettes with daggers frighten alley cats beneath a shadowed moon.
People keep arriving. Bark, then bark more. It’s my house! You come in, I bark! Someone pets me, I stop. Shave the cast from the mummified remains; the energy of ancient thought floats visibly, then evaporates.
Tired. Nap time. Too much running, barking. Too many people. Growl at infant touching my face. Get kicked by master. Cortical functions become levers racing in orange.
All good now. Strangers leaving, me being fed, new toys to sniff, kids happy, masters tired. Must eat, take dump, go sniffing, then nap in peace. The wind finds serenity amongst the dead as camera eyes flicker in frustration.
18 December 2007
A Ghey Family Christmas
“Oh Father, the tree is ever so lovely this year!”
“Merci, my dear. When I first laid eyes upon it, I thought it was splendid and, with a knowing wink, said to the gentleman in the lot, ‘My good man, the Gheys simply must have this gorgeous specimen!’”
“Let’s unwrap the gifts!”
“Yes, let’s shall!”
[unwrapping noises]
“Oh my! This sweater is exquisite! My everlasting thanks, m’lady!”
“Oh Father!”
[laughter, followed by more unwrapping noises]
“The complete works of Truman Capote! A touch naughty, but I likey!”
“I’m pleased that you’re pleased!”
“Oh Father, we love all your presents. Thank you so so so so so much!”
“Shopping is even more of a treat when guided by love!”
“I was about to opine that Christmas is the best, but no.”
[gasps]
“Father, you are the best! You fill the Ghey home and hearth with such love!”
“I bow to your compliments, for I am humbled.”
“But still incorrigible!”
“Ho ho!”
“What shall we do next? Try on our new outfits?”
“Is there a foot ball match on the telly?”
“Ho ho! Foot ball?! You always were the black sheep of the family!”
“Speaking of such, Father, I have a confession. At University, I shan’t be majoring in theatre.”
[silence]
“Then what? Literature? Willst thou be a playwright?”
“Oh my! I sense a tiff arising and must ask who would like to partake in snow sledding.”
“Oh, let’s shall!”
“Yes!”
“Oh yes!”
“Not I.”
[silence]
“Say again? You’d miss such jollification? Is your heart too light for the dales on this morn?”
“Nothing like that. It’s just that someone has to prepare the hot chocolate for when the hardy sledders return from their sporty endeavor.”
“Last one out has lumps of coal in their stocking!”
13 December 2007
Bad Santa 2007
For our 'newer' readers, it has become tradition among the staff (pun intended) of Lincoln's Trombone to offer distasteful, off-color greetings, suitable for the season. Enjoy...share...Merry ****ing Christmas!
Three openers, from the pen of Millard Fillmore.......
It's Christmas two-thousand and seven
Santa's ready for sex with his elven.
They all get up at three
For Claus to bury his tree
And they ride his red rocket to heaven.
Oh you better watch out
You better not cry!
You better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa's giving you a dirty sanchez for Christmas, bitch.
**** the sleigh
**** the holly
**** the mall
Let's ****
Three openers, from the pen of Millard Fillmore.......
It's Christmas two-thousand and seven
Santa's ready for sex with his elven.
They all get up at three
For Claus to bury his tree
And they ride his red rocket to heaven.
Oh you better watch out
You better not cry!
You better not pout, I'm telling you why
Santa's giving you a dirty sanchez for Christmas, bitch.
**** the sleigh
**** the holly
**** the mall
Let's ****
07 December 2007
Advice for the Holidays
Should a German family invite you to a Christmas costume party, and you decide to go as Fox news commentator Brit Hume, remember to sing the following song:
I’ll be Hume for Christmas.
Du kann count auf
C-N-N and F-O-X
Would ne-ver hire dich…
01 December 2007
Ironic Smegma Liner Notes
It is with great pride that I announce that I have been selected to write the liner notes for the new Ironic Smegma boxed set, due out in time for the holidays. Below is my rough draft. I welcome any comments, critiques, advice, etc.
I remember the first time I heard of ‘80s icons Ironic Smegma. The breathless coed practically screamed in my ear that I had to hear this band!
“They’re tits and beer,” her boyfriend agreed.
At that time, IS had a new age influence I didn’t much care for, but there was no denying the talent. What’s more, they stayed within themselves: The four chords they played, they played damned well.
Curious, I followed the band through the decade, watching them add 2 additional chords, 4 hairdressers, and countless spandex jumpsuits. Over and over again, I examined the video for Foreskin Hair Gel, wondering if the band had peaked. Then, of course, came their tour de force, My Spandex is Stretchin’ (Because You’re so Fetchin’). Yes, the video featured the leather bikini, but there was more to it than that. For example…there was…um…oh hell, all I remember is the leather bikini.
In any case, through all the women, fame, women, hairstyles, and more women, IS never lost touch with their essential principle: Make as much money as possible and do it damned quickly. Perhaps, when the history of ‘80s music is written, that will serve as their greatest legacy.
I remember the first time I heard of ‘80s icons Ironic Smegma. The breathless coed practically screamed in my ear that I had to hear this band!
“They’re tits and beer,” her boyfriend agreed.
At that time, IS had a new age influence I didn’t much care for, but there was no denying the talent. What’s more, they stayed within themselves: The four chords they played, they played damned well.
Curious, I followed the band through the decade, watching them add 2 additional chords, 4 hairdressers, and countless spandex jumpsuits. Over and over again, I examined the video for Foreskin Hair Gel, wondering if the band had peaked. Then, of course, came their tour de force, My Spandex is Stretchin’ (Because You’re so Fetchin’). Yes, the video featured the leather bikini, but there was more to it than that. For example…there was…um…oh hell, all I remember is the leather bikini.
In any case, through all the women, fame, women, hairstyles, and more women, IS never lost touch with their essential principle: Make as much money as possible and do it damned quickly. Perhaps, when the history of ‘80s music is written, that will serve as their greatest legacy.
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