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Archive for September, 2012

The Death of Common Sense

Wednesday, September 12th, 2012

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

– Knowing when to come in out of the rain

– Why the early bird gets the worm

– Life isn’t always fair

– And maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 5 stepbrothers;

– I Know My Rights

– I Want It Now

– Someone Else Is To Blame

– I’m A Victim

– Pay me for Doing Nothing

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.

______________________________________________

Disclaimer. I don’t agree with all of this.  But I do agree with a lot of it.

i.e. The not-so-subtle jab at Obama is not appreciated.

And if you knew the story behind the McDonald’s incident, you’d agree that was not a frivolous lawsuit … watch this when it’s on HBO again: Hot Coffee

SheMale Phone Sex …

Tuesday, September 11th, 2012

… inspired by a pic attached to this brief email:

Maybe she lives in a cottage in the English countryside.

I’m visiting for the summer in the house next door.

A young Man. 

Intoxicated by all the nature around him.

Now the pic was of a lovely TS who shall remain nameless, because that’s not the point.  The point is the fantasy that came from just that little bit of information. It was very smart of my caller to give me just this little bit (too much ruins the fun and stifles my creativity … and you wouldn’t want to miss that).

And so …

What does a beautiful blonde Girl-Boy do with a punkster teenager when she catches him jacking-off behind the barn, because he’s a dirty boy who believes she’s a woman … ya know, with a vagina and such.

She punishes him. She punishes him by fucking his virgin ass.  Of course she does.

But there was sooo much more.

We *did* talk for over an hour.

xo, Angela

Feminine Apothegm

Friday, September 7th, 2012

Doubting Thomas?

What about Cinderella?

A pair of shoes changed her life.

So there!

Of Sexy Legs and Poetry

Wednesday, September 5th, 2012

At the Poetry Reading

John Brehm

I can’t keep my eyes off the poet’s

wife’s legs—they’re so much more

beautiful than anything he might

be saying, though I’m no longer

in a position really to judge,

having stopped listening some time ago.

He’s from the Iowa Writers Workshop

and can therefore get along fine

without my attention. He started in

reading poems about his childhood—

barns, cornsnakes, gradeschool, flowers,

that sort of stuff—the loss of

innocence he keeps talking about

between poems, which I can relate to,

especially under these circumstances.

Now he’s on to science, a poem

about hydrogen, I think, he’s trying

to imagine himself turning into hydrogen.

Maybe he’ll succeed. I’m imagining

myself sliding up his wife’s fluid,

rhythmic, lusciously curved, black-

stockinged legs, imagining them arched

around my shoulders, wrapped around my back.

My God, why doesn’t he write poems about her!

He will, no doubt, once she leaves him,

leaves him for another poet, perhaps,

the observant, uninnocent one, who knows

a poem when it sits down in a room with him.

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What do you think? I’ve been to my fair share of poetry readings, and most times rather than not, they can be quite yawn-inducing.  Yet I collect, read and write poetry.  I think, perhaps, poetry was meant to be read. It is of ink and parchment, and perhaps even kindles and monitors.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d be looking at the poet’s wife’s legs too.  Wouldn’t you?

_______________________________________________

If you like this poem as much as I do, visit Mr. Brehm’s website HERE.

_______________________________________________

Thank you, Pervert Savant, for submitting this lovely piece for our PSO-etry collection. You sure do know how to pick ’em.

xo, Angela

Out of the mouth of worms …

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012




Albeit, an erudite worm.

An email:

I am just part of the coterie of obsequious sycophants … a cog in the grist mill.  Only Masa Harina tortilla corn flour for you, Miss Angela St. Lawrence.

Stomp me like grapes for the Must.

I ferment for you!

Sincerely, Tiny Wee Wee

I do love a smart boy who knows how to grovel with such flamboyance.

ingratiating, kowtowing,  bondservant  =  Deliriously Happy Mistress

It’s been a very good day.

Goodnight, Darlings.