I’m the Lameasaurus, my lyrics they bore us
My fans they ignore us, cuz I drive a Ford Taurus
They cringe at my chorus and hold applause for us.
I’m the wonder bread rapper, rhymes from the crapper
I don’t dress as dapper as a candy bar wrapper
Wife called me “napper”, I hadda go slap ‘er.
Lame-a-ee-ay!
(crowd) Oh.
Ay!!
(crowd) Oh.
Ay!!
(crowd) Oh.
I get busy, work up a tizzy, drinkin’ a fizzy
The bros call me “Sissy”, “Prissy” and even a “Missy”
They throw a hissy, they diss me but their disses all miss me
Cuz I come on long and strong even when I’m wrong
Eventually, I’ll be free to be me – a money guarantee
I’m da bomb, I rhyme with aplomb, from here to Vietnam
Lame-a-ee-ay!
(crowd) Oh.
Ay!!
(crowd) Oh.
Ay!!
I’m feelin’ neglected, dejected, and always corrected
In effect, I collect disrespect, I wrecked my chance to connect
I expect, left unchecked, I’ll misdirect efforts to perfect
My troubles are mounting, I’m stuck in accounting
I sit at a computer, I’m a daily commuter
My job sorta sucks, but it pays a few bucks and I’m not driving trucks
Lame-a-ee-ay!
(crowd) Go
(crowd) Away!!
(Lame-a-saurus) Oh.
I must admit, I’m rhyming like sh!t,
with so little wit that I need an affidavit
To prove I can move to the groove,
and it would behoove you to remove
the plugs from your ear, I fear
they’ll interfere to hear my world première
(crowd) Please just go away!
(crowd) Go!
(crowd) Away!
(crowd) Go!
(crowd) Away!
I foresee no MTV for me. Yo.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
White Elephant: The real war on Christmas
Frosty the Snowman is a zombie. His body has life, but no way does that stupid hat have the ability to impart a soul to that body. He’s an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. That magician is miscast as being mean spirited, when in fact he was a holy man who could not allow this sacrilege to continue. His hat was cursed with black magic. When it fell into innocent hands, he selflessly tried to get it back for the good of those kids. The kids unknowingly worshipped a false idol who seduced the young into a life of hedonism. Blasphemy! Sin! Heresy! Frosty must die. It’s the work of the devil.
Did you ever wonder why Santa Claus always wears red? He’s a Communist.
I’ve always had it in for Rudolph, too. At first I thought it was disingenuous of all the other reindeer to suddenly do an about face the moment that Santa declared Rudy the king shit of all reindeer. But that turn seems to be the most plausible thing in the whole story. A fog over the whole world? Even in the desert? In all his years, in all his many travels, he never flew in fog before? How could Rudolph’s tiny, faintly glowing nose provide a high-wattage searchlight function? Please.
I saw two commercials this Christmas for the Ch-ch-chia Pet. Yes, now they have Chia Garfield and Chia Scooby Doo. Does the Chia-‘fro make these two iconic cartoon characters look cool in any way? Oh no, it does not. It looks pretty much what you’d expect Garf and Scooby to look like if they put on a cheap Afro wig. But really, these two have no respect to lose.
For the record, the only one that ever made me say “Now that’s a clever idea” was the Chia Jerry Garcia.
+++++++++++++++++++
Does anybody really think that the Christmas tradition of “White Elephant” is really amusing? Oh, you do? Well, punch yourself in the face so I don’t have to. No one has ever received anything that they remotely wanted or needed. In an amazing feat of money sucking logic, the sum total of all gifts received is lower than the total cost of each gift given. Yes, 2 + 2 = 1! Christmas magic right in front of your eyes. Still like “White Elephant”? Punch yourself harder this time.
This year I will contribute a jar of paint remover, Hostess snacks, and a Hawaiian lei with the caption “A stripper, a couple ho’s and a cheap lei. What’s not to like?” You’d think that I’d be looked on as an unprofessional asshole. Yes, but that’s just because I’m a guy. The women routinely give shitty gifts worse than that and get away with it.
Chias are one of those awful gifts that you just get someone if you really hate the person you pulled in your Secret Santa and don’t want to get your hands dirty preparing a bag of flaming poo.
Did you ever wonder why Santa Claus always wears red? He’s a Communist.
I’ve always had it in for Rudolph, too. At first I thought it was disingenuous of all the other reindeer to suddenly do an about face the moment that Santa declared Rudy the king shit of all reindeer. But that turn seems to be the most plausible thing in the whole story. A fog over the whole world? Even in the desert? In all his years, in all his many travels, he never flew in fog before? How could Rudolph’s tiny, faintly glowing nose provide a high-wattage searchlight function? Please.
I saw two commercials this Christmas for the Ch-ch-chia Pet. Yes, now they have Chia Garfield and Chia Scooby Doo. Does the Chia-‘fro make these two iconic cartoon characters look cool in any way? Oh no, it does not. It looks pretty much what you’d expect Garf and Scooby to look like if they put on a cheap Afro wig. But really, these two have no respect to lose.
For the record, the only one that ever made me say “Now that’s a clever idea” was the Chia Jerry Garcia.
+++++++++++++++++++
Does anybody really think that the Christmas tradition of “White Elephant” is really amusing? Oh, you do? Well, punch yourself in the face so I don’t have to. No one has ever received anything that they remotely wanted or needed. In an amazing feat of money sucking logic, the sum total of all gifts received is lower than the total cost of each gift given. Yes, 2 + 2 = 1! Christmas magic right in front of your eyes. Still like “White Elephant”? Punch yourself harder this time.
This year I will contribute a jar of paint remover, Hostess snacks, and a Hawaiian lei with the caption “A stripper, a couple ho’s and a cheap lei. What’s not to like?” You’d think that I’d be looked on as an unprofessional asshole. Yes, but that’s just because I’m a guy. The women routinely give shitty gifts worse than that and get away with it.
Chias are one of those awful gifts that you just get someone if you really hate the person you pulled in your Secret Santa and don’t want to get your hands dirty preparing a bag of flaming poo.
Snowflake Apocalypse
Have you heard in breathless terms, the forecasted complete and utter collapse of Western civilization due to the impending 1-2 inches of snow we may receive within the next few days? Winter weather warning/watch/whatever. This cataclysm will force us all to chop the furniture for firewood and to gnaw on nail clippings for nutrients. Since this calamity will surely destroy all life on Earth, consider this my last entry for a while. We must wait until some protoplasm again evolves from the remaining primordial ooze and evolves into Al Gore, to re-invent the internet connections. To hasten things along, I recommend we just skip over the dinosaurs and that odd branch that ultimately developed into troglodytes like Jerry Falwell and James Dobson. Anyway, heed the weatherman’s warnings, the end is nigh.
I’ve heard these same weather reports for the past 10-15 years now. One or two inches of snow signifies a disaster on a level that no snow plow can defeat. When I was a youth, men were real men, women were real women, red meat and butter were good for you and the drugs and alcohol flowed freely. Yee-haw! But now, we must prepare for the end of Western Civilization as we know it, and get ready for a Road Warrior-esque future, where we live like savages but somehow drive ridiculously large and garish automobiles. I’ll work on getting my minivan all pimped out. I’ll remove the panel siding and put on huge, unnecessary furry raccoon tails. I’ll put in chrome pipes that don’t lead anywhere, too. Of course I’ll freeze my ass off, because this is Kentucky in the winter and not the desert outback of Australia. Or perhaps it will more of a future like Kevin Costner’s disastrous vehicle “The Postman”, where we all live in fear of a gang that talks a good game but can’t defeat a bunch of adolescents who have decided to fight back the only way they know how: BY DELIVERING THE MAIL!!!
*******************
Weather Service downgraded the apocalyptic storm headed our way today to an "advisory" instead of "warning". Whew! Western Civilization has dodged a bullet and lives for another day.
I'm disappointed. I was just signing up members of my gang that will fight for control this arctic wasteland. I didn't want to be the leader, because if some unkillable Mad Max hero type shows up, then I'd die in a violent episode. I'd rather be a lieutenant taking scouting reports to see if we want to team up with another gang or should we just raid them for food and women. If we team up, would it be a partnership, a joint venture, a merger or an acquisition? I'd be Director of Synergy Facilitation. I'd earn my gang moniker when we need people to just shovel snow. I'd be "The Plow". No?
Anyway, crisis averted. Armageddeon must wait. If it does happen soon and you want in to my gang, let me know via carrier pigeon or smoke signal. Using the drum to say "Hey dude, let me in to your gang" sounds too much like Led Zepplin's "Rock & Roll".
I’ve heard these same weather reports for the past 10-15 years now. One or two inches of snow signifies a disaster on a level that no snow plow can defeat. When I was a youth, men were real men, women were real women, red meat and butter were good for you and the drugs and alcohol flowed freely. Yee-haw! But now, we must prepare for the end of Western Civilization as we know it, and get ready for a Road Warrior-esque future, where we live like savages but somehow drive ridiculously large and garish automobiles. I’ll work on getting my minivan all pimped out. I’ll remove the panel siding and put on huge, unnecessary furry raccoon tails. I’ll put in chrome pipes that don’t lead anywhere, too. Of course I’ll freeze my ass off, because this is Kentucky in the winter and not the desert outback of Australia. Or perhaps it will more of a future like Kevin Costner’s disastrous vehicle “The Postman”, where we all live in fear of a gang that talks a good game but can’t defeat a bunch of adolescents who have decided to fight back the only way they know how: BY DELIVERING THE MAIL!!!
*******************
Weather Service downgraded the apocalyptic storm headed our way today to an "advisory" instead of "warning". Whew! Western Civilization has dodged a bullet and lives for another day.
I'm disappointed. I was just signing up members of my gang that will fight for control this arctic wasteland. I didn't want to be the leader, because if some unkillable Mad Max hero type shows up, then I'd die in a violent episode. I'd rather be a lieutenant taking scouting reports to see if we want to team up with another gang or should we just raid them for food and women. If we team up, would it be a partnership, a joint venture, a merger or an acquisition? I'd be Director of Synergy Facilitation. I'd earn my gang moniker when we need people to just shovel snow. I'd be "The Plow". No?
Anyway, crisis averted. Armageddeon must wait. If it does happen soon and you want in to my gang, let me know via carrier pigeon or smoke signal. Using the drum to say "Hey dude, let me in to your gang" sounds too much like Led Zepplin's "Rock & Roll".
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