Do You Speak Basque

I’m the lone ranger.
No you drive a ford ranger.
I wear a cool mask.
And you carry a big flask.
My mask is the coolest.
And the bluest.
I bought a personalized mask.
And now you’re someone.
It’s a very sexy mask.
The mask is sexy?
Don’t you think I look sexy in this mask.
You have to ask?
My mask is unique.
Are you tweaking?
My mask is cool.
Ditto, you’re a damn fool.
You’re jealous of my mask.
You’re a bit overzealous.
Love is never having to mask.
It’s ask you ass.
Haters gonna hate the mask.
This is my new smart mask.
It’s controlled by a brainless nimrod.
Don’t be mean to the mask.
Oh, go ahead bask in your mask.
I’ll unmask just for you love.
Keep it on, please and hold the Basque.

Ooh lalala.


Not Me

I’m gonna wash a load of clothes.
I have tide. It’s not the Crimson Tide.
But it will do. I have bleach too.
So it will be clean. This has no chlorine for colors.
I think I’ll add some downy for softness.
And some blue ice for the good smell.
Ah hell, thrown in some sanitizer and borax.
I’ll dry them with bounce or some more downy.
Prevent those darn wrinkles.
Be sure to add the sprinkles.
You know, those little bouncy balls in the dryer.
Sure are loud.
I’m so proud. To bad it cost me a paycheck.
Johnny? Paycheck? No, he’s dead.
Did he wear a mask.
No that was the lone anger. You mean ranger.
Of course and toto. No that was Dorothy in Oz.
Or Kansas.
Did you get you mask son?
Yes master. Yes master.
Did you wash it. Absorutely.
There’s that word again. Wash?
Nevermind. Whew.
Glad that thought is done.
You mean laundry.
Only cost me $19 a load.
Of crap. Stop please.
Did you sneeze?

Not me….

Let’s Pretend

Let’s Pretend.
Let’s pretend we are twelve.

Okay, bottom of the ninth in this 1957 Series bases are loaded.

The Hammer slowly walks to the plate.

He don’s his batting helmet.

Swings twice. The pitch floats to the plate.

There’s a drive to left, it could be it might be, it’s outta here.

The Braves win the series.

I just hit a walk off grand slam. The crowd is awed.

Let’s pretend I’m twenty-two. Ok, cool.

Pass that my way please. Want a lude?

Are you sure you’re good to drive.

Absorutely. Hold his bottle of Beam please.

Let’s pretend we’re thirty-two. No, your age not marriages.

It must be love. It was true love.

Did you notice the past tense in above sen tance.

I didn’t think so.

Let’s pretend we’re forty-two.

Rehab is for quitters.

I don’t like you very much.

Me either.

Let’s pretend we’re fifty-two.

Ok. Boring.

More Boring.

Let’s pretend we’re sixty-two.

Do over. Mulligan.

Not. No can do.

Hide and watch bitchy.



Super Fudge

I could not jog for the fog.
So I logged onto a blog.
I thought it just a cog.
But it was just a hillbilly dog.
It mentioned a great awakening.
For the forsaken ones.
I was quiet shaken.
I felt taken.
It said it was our time.
To change the world and let our light shine.
Get on with they urged.
It’s our time to purge and merge.
The evil surge.
Of mindless endless,


A Ribber Runs Through It

I only had one rib.

So the lie became a bir.

The bur caused a sore.

And a cold sore or three.

The sore led to little J O E.

And D I V O R C E.

Friends in the end.

It depends.

Aisle 14 for depends.

A ribber that guy.

No, ridder.


I love you.

Shhhhh, eat more nuts.

You fruit. I meant more fruit.

Did you ever try rattlesnake.

A delicacy you know.

How would you know.

I read that on the net.

I think.




Tread Lightly

Who made the new rules.
And changed the schools.
Who wanted the world.
And watched it unfurl.
Who made the plan.
Only know to the sandman.
Who wanted to be free.
To just be.
And now you’re in charge.
Are you sure you wanted a sinking barge.
As we wait for this skit to end.
Do you think we’ll just sit and mend.
No, as usual the hippies and stooges overreached.
And we have been breached.
Many feel all is lost.
But we the junkies and flunkies know we will win at any cost.
We will never surrender.
To you the red mind-bender.
Think us a fool you can rule.
Your charm like an empty spool.
Tread lightly elite cheats.
The sheeple OWN the streets.



In walked Jan.
With a cat in hand.
From what land.
The land of the sand.
She’s my biggest fan.
Not a man and has no tan.

Smart and seeking a new band.
She thinks she’s a zero.
But Jan is my hero.
For it is written.
She’s but a kitten.
Young and strong.
And will join out throng.
To right all wrongs.
So Jan be cool.
For you will be but a tool.
Of right, for the fight.
With the eight.
Soon everything will illuminate,
To bright.
Yes, Jan you’ve found your brand.
And it shall be grand.