ONE day,

long after I have

shaved my last shave,

someone may turn to

someone else, and say,

“I bet George is

spinning in his grave.”


And no doubt

they will hit that square

on the chin,

for what else is there to

do in a grave, but spin?


Still, who can

reasonably say, I thought,

for maybe that day,

my plan was to stay

completely still, and rot


That is why my friends

I come to-day to tout

that my grave is to be


so as to erase all doubt.


Just press the button

on my tomb-stone,

you’ll be happy you enquired.

And what’s best,

the button is free

to press!

No offense in my name



AND finally then,

my friend,

for certain you will know,

for six feet


there I go!

Round and round and




bw party tref

Guardian of the super moist

Last night,

I was visited


the Angel of Food Cake!


Now exactly how this

angel got into my room

I do not know, as the door

was locked, but she

tapped a few times

on my forehead  to wake

me up.


The angel was dressed

entirely in paper & string,

and in her grip she held a

flaming cake-stand, made

of the finest Bakelite.


I asked the angel if

she had come from

heaven to bring me



But the angel

just laughed,

and said,

“Like you need cake.”


I said,

“Aww, come on,

please, angel,

I’ll put on some coffee.

It’ll be great.”


And lo,

the angel presented me with a

large cake of orange hue,

which I instantly recognized.


“Wait, carrot cake?”

I said.

“I hate carrot cake.”


Parenthetically, dear readers,

Carrot cake is the worst.


It’s like,

when you were a kid and

your parents told you there

would be NO desert unless

you ate all vegetables on

your plate.

— So, you did —

only to discover, later,

that dessert, was

more vegetables!


But, in reply, the angel

only smiled, winked an eye,

and exited out my bed-room



The next morning,

I left the carrot cake in the

office break-room,

un-touched, and still on

the flaming cake stand.


A few minutes later

I heard someone say,

“Oh, cake!” And, then,



I hear you brother.

The christmas lesson

I’ll never forget the

Christmas our parents

told us that,

because it had been

a hard year, financially,

we could only ask for

one present a-piece


So, that Christmas

all that I asked for were

scarlet ribbons.


Pretty scarlet ribbons for my hair.


And come

Christmas morning,

I got them, too.

And they were

as beautiful as you

may imagine.


My sister got a

new computer, though,

and suddenly,

I realized

what I fool I had been.


Stupid ribbons.



IN this undated photo, Our Founder, deep in contemplation, relaxes by a warm fire, smoking a pretend pipe, and wondering, perhaps, what became of his actual pipe.

To know a man

They say you can’t

really know a man

until you spend

a day in his shoes.


But what of the man

who refuses to let me

wear his shoes?


And what of the man

who then threatens

physical violence

after I attempt to remove

his shoes anyway?


Can we ever really

know that man?


No, probably not.


At least, not without

those shoes.


The Couch Elf by Mary Cellini