But keep your tits to yourself — We’re looking for boob, knocker, hooter, jug, chichi, stories. The funny kind. If you must write about breasts or the mammary glands, OK fine. Be all medical about it. The pub does have the word “Doctor” in its name. But under NO circumstances are you to stray into bird territory…

Let’s see what happens, shall we? — Just spitballing here, but I’m gonna guess that Taeyong is a famous person, perhaps the member of a boy band, maybe a Korean boy band??? How is this hopelessly out-of-touch Boomer doing so far? In my relentless search for worldwide fame and fortune I’ve now embarked on a new campaign. …

“Chingadera” — It’s worth looking up this fucking thing. — Sorry “Lousy,” or however you say your wacky pretentious name, but you are sadly mistaken. The journey of a thousand miles begins, and continues, like this: 🌟 pee 🌟 remote start the car 😝 allow car to idle, helping to ruin the environment, while you pack, clean car, and dawdle 🌟 awaken carbon-monoxide-intoxicated travelers 🌟 clean millions of empty food containers…

A prompt response to: “Gratitude for the Grounded Feeling of Creating” a poem by the always egg-cellent, and handy, and dandy, Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她) I’d like to make songs with my hands But alas and alack made no plans Took not a lesson Instead set to messin’ With stuff thought to earn me…

We all remember “Beef — It’s What’s For Dinner” — Remember this? Beef — It’s What’s For Dinner

2.5 years in, I’m a failure — I’ve failed. Specifically, I’ve failed to build a sustained or sustainable presence on Medium. How do I know? My last story before this one posted 6/20/22. On 6/21/22 I got 51 reads. 6/22/22, 45 reads. Today, as of this writing, 13 reads. My average number of reads in the last 30 days, not counting…

Puzzling over the p-word — The so-called “p-word” has reared its ugly head. It emerged during testimony about the Jan. 6th riot, or Senate Building tourist visit, as some prefer to misremember it. I’ll admit to being puzzled by the “p-word.” Some words are just so abhorrent that everyone knows what they mean even if…

My apologies for a beautiful poetry writing challenge gone horribly awry. A Flight Diversion? To Detroit? Who knew? I’m über sorry for my bratty behavior on the Auschwitz-to-Jamaica flight. Now all the duct tape and extra seat belts are used up. But how was I to know? How dare the stewardess ask me to lower the volume On…

“I don’t wanna call you Ismael. Let’s play “Hall Pass.” My sex fantasy name for you is gonna be Chris Hemsworth.” — Mrs. H. Melville — From Anne Hathaway to Willie during a relationship rough patch. “To be ME, or not to be ME! It’s ALL about you, 24–7–365. You, you and more you! That’s the real question here Mr. William Rock Star Shakespeare! So stop all your fancy backwards speak and just let me be me! GEEEZ.