The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘Poetry’

Attn: Ellen (2/6/19)




Back (apologies for my handwriting!)



The text of the postcard is

Dear Ellen,

No silly joke today. Just excited about the day my son is old enough to go out and listen to the Earth’s poetry like the kid on this postcard.

Sincerely, OR @DumbFunnery

Why am I doing this?



June 2018 Haiku

June 1 (Friday)
With Trump I have learned
Opposite meditation
Deep breath. SCREAM. Deep breath.

June 2 (Saturday)
The heart soars with love
… As son snacks me in the face
… While shouting nonsense

June 3 (Sunday)
Kid’s first trip to pool!
What fun, huh?! Please? Darling? Fun?
…He was not a fan

June 4 (Monday)
Restaurant idea
‘Everything Tastes Like Chicken’
… Only serve cat food

June 5 (Tuesday)
Invited to lunch
“I’m trying to save money”
Offered coupon … What.

June 6 (Wednesday)
It’s Wednesday, right guys?
More like … When’s this day over!
(I apologize)

June 7 (Thursday)
Kid wants to stand. NOW.
Seems to move in slow motion …
Falls at super speed

June 8 (Friday)
Old men and babies
They walk leading with their guts
And love being nude

June 9 (Saturday)
It’s dad’s time to shine
Cutting last night time feeding
No milk here, buddy

June 10 (Sunday)
Dad handled night time
Mom and kid woke up early
And got doughnuts. Score.

June 11 (Monday)
The kid was cough-y
So now dad needs some coffee!
… Lord I’m so tired

June 12 (Tuesday)
Is Jersey Mike’s good?
Yes. Do they make snails look fast?

June 13 (Wednesday)
You’ve just died. God’s real.
Turns out God LOVES Mountain Dew.
How freaked out are you?

June 14 (Thursday)
I do love cuddles
Even if it’s one am
Which is, frankly, nuts

June 15 (Friday)
Two bad bugs are found
In cliché coding fashion
It’s last day of tests

June 16 (Saturday)
Saw Solo today
Star Wars fans are too whiny
They’re movies. Enjoy.

June 17 (Sunday)
Happy Father’s Day
One whole parent, one tenth the
Expectations. DADS!

June 18 (Monday)
Wore new socks today
They’re polka dot, but instead
Of dots … It’s son’s face

June 19 (Tuesday)
Hi gross leftovers.
Yes you’re bland and kinda gross
But I’m cheap. So there.

June 20 (Wednesday)
It’s not a good thing
When reading the news makes you
Want to cry or scream

June 21 (Thursday)
Pres playing a game
It’s him against common sense
Everyone’s losing

June 22 (Friday)
So, convertibles …
Think first one was a mistake?
“Ohhhhhh shoot … Eh, ship it.”

June 23 (Saturday)
First haircut today
Old man hairs hung over ears
Are no more – bye friends

June 24 (Sunday)
My watch tracks my steps
And tells me trends like, ‘Sundays:
‘Did your legs fall off?’

June 25 (Monday)
Boss’s boss in town
Effort to dress to impress:
Wore my nicest shorts

June 26 (Tuesday)
If World Cup was real
What kind of cup would it be?
Probably sippy

June 27 (Wednesday)
Kiddo wakes early
The alarm clock on my phone
Has felt neglected

June 28 (Thursday)
… It was pretty nice

June 29 (Friday)
xbox with some pals
“How’s the new – aw frick I died! –
House? All unpacked now?”

June 30 (Saturday)
To do list and I
Have an odd relationship
There’s love and loathing

‘The Nazi Judge’ Part Two

Welcome back. Go back to yesterday to read the first part of this if you haven’t.

I’m writing about the Houston VIP Slam Off that I attended on March 24th. I was there to support a friend of mine. The competition was to go from nine poets to four, and those four will be traveling to North Carolina to compete in a national competition. Houston is sending two teams, and this night was to crank out one of the two teams.

The MC announced that before the official competition began they would have two sacrificial lambs. This is so that the judges can figure out their scoring, and so that the first competitor doesn’t have to be the first one on stage.

The first guy got up and did a poem about love. If he happens to read this, it was brilliant and I’d give it a 10. In reality, it was a bit dark for me, I prefer more humor (go figure). The scores were on a scale of 0 to 10.0. And it was recommended that we go to one decimal point to help avoid ties I suppose.


Now, let me go ahead and tell you a little bit about how I work. Whenever I do a survey and the questions have you say you: strongly disagree, disagree, neutral, agree, strongly agree – I rarely choose one of the answers with strongly in it. It just raises so many questions for my neurotic mind. For example, what is strongly and do I really feel strongly about anything? I’d like to think I can be fairly easy-going so no I don’t strongly agree that this ATM was usable, or that this bagel was tasty. I just agree. Yeah, the ATM worked. Sure. The bagel did the job of being eaten by me. Let’s move on. Nothing strong to see here.

When I heard a scale of 0 to 10.0, my mind converted that to a scale of about 6 to 8. I didn’t want to give a really low score because that would be mean. But something above an 8 would have to be really good. In my head this was just fine.


I wrote down my score for the first guy: 6.9. I wrote it quickly and turned over the dry-erase board I’d written it on.

Across from me, sitting by the doorway, was another judge. She was the only other judge I could see the score of. The other three judges were behind me (again, I was a front-row geek). The MC told us to show our scores.


The girl across from me had given the performer a 9.9. She gave me a shocked look when she saw my score. The MC read the scores and all of them (I think), but mine were in the 9’s. Whoops. I quickly erased the score on my dry-erase board. Someone around me noticed this and laughed and said, “he’s embarrassed of his score!” I am not 100% sure if I was blushing or not, but I’d be shocked if I didn’t a whole bunch that night. Someone else said they weren’t able to copy the scores down in time and I had to write mine back.

No problem, right? I just needed to adjust my scoring? Well, the people around me disagreed. “No, you have to be consistent! Write what you think you should!” So, you’re saying you want me to be an a-hole all night? Sure, no problem.

The second sacrificial lamb got up and performed. I liked her better than the first guy, so obviously the score needed to increase. But it wasn’t like she was WAY better than the first guy, so logically she got a 7.3 (I’m a logical person, not a dick, it’s just sometimes the two combine?).

Remember when the MC told me no one but her would see my scores? What a liar-face. People would poke around me to look at my score, and in case that wasn’t enough, the MC would look at me, sometimes point, while reading my score.

The night had 3 rounds. In the first two all nine performers went once. In the third round six went. That’s twenty-four performances. At most, four times I did not have the lowest score.

And you know what happened more often than not? I was BOOED. BOOED I tell you! I have never been booed so much. Here’s how it would go:

1 – Performer goes
2 – I give the a-hole guy score, everyone else gives nice, high scores
3 – I get booed
4 – I look down in shame, look at my friends
5 – My friends laugh at me
6 – I say ‘I hate you guys’
7 – They laugh some more

At the end of the first round I formed a plan. Of course! I’ll just add two points to whatever score forms in my head! 7.4’s will become 9.4’s and I will no longer be this jerk in the front row! I tell my happy plan to the girls sitting behind me (who made a habit of making fun of me with The Story Teller, and poking me occasionally to laugh at me). They seem to be ok with it. Then the MC comes back to the stage and I tell her my plan and she says, “NO! You have to stay consistent!” I turned to one of the girls behind me and said, “ok you two work this out and please just tell me what to do!”

I continued on my consistent a-holery. Or, dumbassery if you will.


The competition and thankfully my friend made the cut. I think I had ended up grading him more harshly because I didn’t want to be biased. Afterwords I was talking to him and saying how I felt like such a dick all night long. He responded very kindly (in tone, not in words),

“no it was fine! Normally the Nazi judge isn’t consistent at all but you were really consistent.”

Ooof. Without batting an eye or thinking of it as a bad thing I’d heard my label – the Nazi judge. Ouch. Nevertheless, probably pretty accurate.


The Story Teller recommended that I get up on stage and explain how my bell curve works. While everyone else is between say a 7 and 10 I operated between a 6 and 8. We joked that Rainbow Speak would operate between a 99.0 and a 99.9.

Overall, I really didn’t enjoy being a judge. I felt like a jerk all night and, seriously, I got booed. But, it was still pretty funny, and my friends had a blast. It was very cool to see my buddy TFO perform, and I’ve included a YouTube video below of one of his performances.

Hope you enjoy it! Feel free to judge him as harshly or kindly as you like with no fear of public repercussion! It’s life’s simple pleasures like that, you know?

(And yes, people would snap. So if you think that’s what you’re hearing, it is what you’re hearing.)

Check out more items from my “What Have I Done?” bucket list!

‘The Nazi Judge’

Saturday night a friend of mine, TFO, was competing in a poetry contest. The Houston VIP Slam Off.

Now, I’m going to go ahead and let you in on a little secret … before the event I had guessed that my buddy Rainbow Speak and I would be the only white people there. I was almost right. Another friend and co-worker of ours came with a friend of his (and friend of ours), so that made four white people. I’ll call them The Story Teller, and Sugar.

A week before, when I was returning from SxSW, my friends and I stopped off at a big outlet mall in San Marcos. There, at the urging and encouraging laughter of E$ and Airplanes, Rainbow Speak and I each bought a pair of pink pants. We figured these would come in handy any time we wanted to look like idiots.

Saturday night, for the Houston VIP Slam Off, we decided to look like idiots. Airplanes (who is Mexican-American) sported a pretty dress, Rainbow Speak and I went full blown pastel. Because hey everyone, did you notice we’re white?


We got to the event and I was regretting our fashion choice. I ended up being disappointed at the complete lack of people making fun of us. Our friend, TFO, was introducing us to other competitors and friends of his and … no one said, “hey uh … what’s with the pants?” Not a one! Instead, TFO’s friends probably just had the thought ‘silly white people’ further drilled in. Whoops. At least I left my tennis racket in my trunk. (Yes, I have a tennis racket in my trunk.)

One of TFO’s friends was Bean. Bean was telling us some stories about past events and mentioned getting upset at judges. Wait, upset at judges? I asked about the scores, assuming that a round would finish and then all competitors would get their scores together. “No, I don’t know anyone who would do this if it was like that,” Bean said. Instead, after each performer, the judges grade them. And, what’s more, the performers know what score each judge gives. Bean told a story about being at a competition as a coach, and throwing his notebook at one judge who kept giving low scores.

This is worth noting.


Fast forward a little bit and we’re sitting inside. It was at a cool little coffee and food shop, and it was packed. Forty to fifty people inside. They had set up some benches and pushed the tables off to the sides, against the windows, and only the front row was left.

The Story Teller squeezed in at the end of the second row. Sugar, myself, Airplanes, Rainbow Speak, and another dude from work sat on the front row.

A girl, who turns out to be the MC, comes up to me. I’m not sure what all was said during this conversation, so here’s my attempt at repeating it.

“Want to be a judge?!”
“What? No I wouldn’t know what to do.”
“That’s fine! You know poetry?”
“Well, I mean I’ve read poetry … I wouldn’t say I know it.”
“Perfect! So you’ll be a judge?”
“Ha! No I … I wouldn’t even know what to score on!”

This story would be much shorter if I had managed to say no. But she got a yes out of me. Things to note from the conversation, her line, “you’re going to say yes eventually.” Which proved to be true. And:

“Wait wait … I was talking to a dude outside before this and he said they could SEE what scores they get! So then I’d just want to give everyone a TEN!”
“No, only I will see your score.”


She also said, “you’re young and you seem like you’d be ok with it so I’m going to be making fun of you.” Which made her cool in my book.

“Ok fine … but I have a friend here and I’ll want to give him higher scores so he’ll win.”
“You’re saying you’re a biased person?”

Which was a brilliant response. After that I laughed, said yes of course I’m biased, and agreed to be a judge. This picture was taken after the show, which depicts the MC and I’s relationship I think.


Come back tomorrow for the actual judging

How to Deal with Criminals – Poetry Style

Sometimes crime happens. And a criminals worst nightmare might by a little poetry. Memorize these, they could save you some grief.


Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
If I put down my gun
So should you


Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
No, because summer never stole my favorite shoes.
Please give them back.


Sweet as a cookie,
Sharp as a tack.
My car was not bought
To experience carjack.


O captain, my captain
Where is my watch?
Seriously … who took my watch.


The devil dances
And dines
And devours
The unwary travelers of life
You’re not the devil
But you come close with that knife


What is life?
What is the purpose for all of this strife?
Who are we?
Please, anonymous hacker, un-steal my identity?

Quotes of the Day!

“I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.”

Brave New World


Having just finished a hunger strike, Gandhi sits down to his first meal. The meal is a bowl of soup made by a good friend of Gandhi’s. The friend nervously asks, “well, how does it taste?” Gandhi says, “it’s great, definitely exceeds everything I’d been dreaming of while on my hunger strike.”

De Jour of the Week (11/8/10)

Shakespeare Was Onto Something …


Yes, a rose by any other name

Is still a rose, but it’s my aim

To describe other things about a rose

With this simple-minded prose


A rose

By any other name

Is still just a rose

Unless you’re allergic


A nose

By any other name

Is still just a nose

Unless it’s nosy



By any other name

Are still just clothes

Unless they’re one-size fits all for everyone but you



By any other name

Is still just knows

Unless it’s something she knows but you don’t



By any other name

Is still just flows

Unles you’ve just finished your fourth beer only to find the bathroom is out of order


A dose

By any other name

Is still just a dose

Unless it’s an epidural

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