Wednesday, May 27, 2009

52 Odes to Vengeance

So, until my car got wrecked I didn't know what I could come up with another 52 posts about. Now I've got it. Every Wednesday for the next year there will be a new bit of vitriolic verse or pissed-off prose comemorating the asshole in the yellow car. Okay, maybe this will burn itself out before a year, but until I decide what I'm really going to do here, this will have to do. Today's is a re-tread just to get things kick-started.

The Things I Would Do

Oh, the things I would do
if I could find you
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
I would gouge out your eyes
with a grapefruit spoon,
Go for the jugular
but think, "No, too soon."
I would gnaw through fascia
and tear out your spleen,
I would shove up your butt
a hamster named Dean.
I'd make you a trach tube,
insert with my thumb
After prepping the area
with wine from a bum.
Then I'd shit down your throat
in this brand new tube,
And sodomize you well
while using no lube.
I'd tear out your toenails
one by one by one;
But suppose I got bored
and thought "That's no fun."
I might cut out your tongue
but only the tip,
And then mock you like mad
because of your lithp;
As you plead for "Merthy!"
and cry out in pain,
But for you I'd have none
but purest disdain.
For you coward, you fraud,
you purulent cunt,
You just wrecked my new car
and then off you runned.
And so now I owe twice
what my car is worth
All thanks to your trimming
of its front-end girth.
Oh, the things I would do
if I could find you;
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
Alas, you are long gone
my car's fucked and worse -
I'll get nothing but rage,
and this page of verse.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

My hero


When we were small, I was probably 4 or 5, I remember doing this skit with my dad. It's something completely out of character, but a memory I hold dear. My dad was watching Ojo, me, and Snake because my mom was out running errands on a Saturday. We were in my parents' bedroom playing around their bed. This may be the same time that my dad recorded us on a little Radio Shack tape recorder. I said my favorite food was potatoes. And that I must have smoked a lot as a kid because my voice made Redd Foxx's sound smooth as silk.
My dad got out a kleenex or napkin and twisted it so that it was pinched in the middle and fanned out to either side, approximating a bow shape. My dad would put the kleenex on Ojo's upper lip, turning it into a mustache. "You must pay the rent!"
Then he'd put it on Snake's head, like a bow on a little girl. "But I can't pay the rent."
Back to Ojo's lip. "You must pay the rent!" Back to Snake's head. "But I can't pay the rent." Then to my neck, turning it into a bowtie. "I'll pay the rent." Back to Snake's bow. "My hero!"
I don't know where he came up with that. I'm just glad he did. I know at times in this space it seems like I've been dogging him out, and at times I was. Underlying every pixel in this blog, however, is the abiding awe which fathers inspire in their children and which stays with them the duration of their lives. The whole purpose of this blog was to understand some of what makes my dad my dad, to have a little fun doing it, and to realize what sort of impact I'm having on my own kids. I think I've accomplished all three goals. At the end, though, I can't really explain my dad or why he has held such sway over my life (whether he intended to or not), but I can accept that influence as the burden of fatherhood. For all the jokes about temper tantrums, cursing, and fucking cripples, my dad provided an excellent example of fatherhood, one I hope to match and improve on, so that one day when my son's on the holodeck reliving memories of his childhood he'll recognize the same dedication and love I recognize in my own father.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Other dogs ...


This is my dad extolling the greatest of my mom's virtues. In contrast to his own inability to hold in flatulence, his wife can apparently hold it for 25 years. And yet she does not blow up.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

for those not on my email list or on facebook

This goes out to the driver of the little yellow car, you know who you are ...

The Things I Would Do
by Llogg

Oh the things I would do
if I could find you
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
I would gouge out your eyes
with a grapefruit spoon,
Go for the jugular
but think, "No too soon."
I would gnaw through fascia
and tear out your spleen,
I would shove up your butt
a hamster named Dean.
I'd make you a trach tube,
insert with my thumb
After prepping the area
with wine from a bum.
Then I'd shit down your throat
in this brand new tube,
And sodomize you well
while using no lube.
I'd tear out your toenails
one by one by one;
But suppose I got bored
and thought "That's no fun."
I might cut out your tongue
but only the tip,
And then mock you like mad
because of your lithp;
As you plead for "Merthy!"
and cry out in pain,
But for you I'd have none
but purest disdain.
For you coward, you fraud,
you purulent cunt,
You just wrecked my new car
and then off you runned.
And so now I owe twice
what my car is worth
All thanks to your trimming
of its front-end girth.
Oh, the things I would do
If I could find you;
Oh, if I could find you,
the things I would do.
Alas, you are long gone
my car's fucked and worse -
I've got nothing but rage
and this page of verse.

what could he possibly have to forget?


This one's from a trip to Houston for an Astros game. It serves as an example of my dad's persistent road rage. All his sons acquired some of it, Ojo probably the least, but we've all more or less grown out of it. Not so my dad. He is just as likely to utter this line today as he was 20 years ago. The only difference is that now he might expound on the underlying problem a little. "People in this country don't know how to queue."