Cannibalism has never appealed to me

Which is good, because it is hard food to find

Even though I am surrounded by people

What I mean is, there are no good cannibal restaurants in my neighbourhood

Not even any bad ones

I suppose I could go catch my own food

By I don’t even do that with pigs

Or cows

Or lettuce

And besides, I’m not really into it

Not fascinated by it at all

It’s all rather gross if you ask me

But…

If you did know of a good restaurant serving cannibalistic cuisine

And you reserved a nice table by the window

And you were paying

I’d probably go

I wouldn’t want to be rude

There was a time when things were great

Before I was born

Because everything had already happened

And none of it was my fault

But things today aren’t so great

Because for every war

Or every starving child

Or every polar bear confused about where all the ice went

There is a chance that I am partly responsible

Not wholly responsible

Maybe .0000001 percent or something

I didn’t start the war

Or take that child’s lunch

Or melt the ice with a blow torch

No, I merely sat on my ass

And watched TV while eating a bag of chips

But

Sadly

That’s all it takes nowadays

There once was a man who had two heads

The one head was larger than the other

So everyone always talked to that head

Unfortunately, that head was an idiot

And only read magazines with celebrities on the cover

Or fast cars

Or mostly-naked women

The smaller head was smarter

And read the Economist

And even got all the way through Moby Dick despite the bigger head making jokes about it

Which were obvious and annoying and not very funny

The smaller head was particularly angry

That everyone thought the big stupid head

Made all the decisions

Which

Of course

It did

Ronald McDonald didn’t win

It might seem that he did as your child drags you there

To feast on fat and ground up stuff

To play with the cheap plastic toy promoting a movie

To open those little ketchup packs

That you need ten of

Oh yes, it seems he has won

He makes billions and billions

More than any other clown on earth

The children love him

As he fattens them up like Kobe beef

They want to suck his sodas

And eat his chicken strips

And live forever in his land of easy to clean tables and chairs

But despite all that, Ronald McDonald didn’t win

Because he is a clown

Arrrgh!  I’m a pirate, I want yer booty!

And, I don’t mean ‘ass’ when I say ‘booty’

Even though I understand it can mean that nowadays in the hip-hop culture

Or at least it did

I am a little behind the times

Arrgh! I want yer ass!

Sorry about that, I meant to say ‘booty’

But now all I can think about is ass

I am very easily distracted

I think that’s why I got into piracy in the first place

It wasn’t that I wasn’t smart, it’s just that I had a hard time staying still in class

So I dropped out of school early

And after a few years in some other professions

Like brigand, gypsy, and yoga instructor

I applied for an entry-level position at a local job fair

And ended up working for the scurvy dog blood-handed William McBastard

My first duty was to organize his sock drawer

Which was easy, for he had a peg leg

Then I taught his parrot English as a Second Language

It’s first language was Belgian

It never did get rid of the accent

Still, all in all, Mr. McBastard was impressed

And soon I was promoted to expendable crewmember

In which capacity I am here now

And that is why I am saying to you

Arghhh! I’m a pirate

Hand me yer ass!

Sorry

I did it again

You do have a nice ass

One week in and business is booming! I’ve already created two custom songs. The only strange thing is that both songs involve a Lada Niva, a car I had never heard of before last week. In fact, one song is completely dedicated to this beautiful Soviet car. In the other song it is used to run over zombies. If you’d like to hear either of these masterworks please go to the For Hire section on my website.

Monetize.

That’s what you’re supposed to do with a web-site. I’m not exactly sure what the word means, but I think it might be “try to make money off of something that you can’t make money off of.”  I am monetizing my site by offering a custom songwriting service. I’ve had this idea for a while now (although, it’s not really much of an idea) but I have finally committed. I’m in it with both feet. In fact, since announcing it on the Worm Facebook page yesterday I’ve already written two songs for (hopefully) paying customers!

It works like this: I’ll write a funny song for anybody. With money. The money part is very important. It’s the “mone” in “monetize” after all (although maybe it’s more like moan). So if there’s someone or something you want a funny song about I am your man! (And that’s not a sexist comment, I am actually a man.)

So bring it on,  I’m ready to rhyme

All for only $99.99

I have crossed yet another boundary in the digital divide. I have set my book, Get Stupid!, free of the paper that had imprisoned it. Yes, now you can Get Stupid! straight from the internet at http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/get-stupid/7693211. And best of all, it’s only five dollars. ONLY FIVE DOLLARS!!!

Of course the paper version is still available (at Maplemusic.com) for those who like the feel of dead tree in their hands.

It is one victory after the other over here. I have singed up for Twitter and have already successfully Tweeted several times. I was intending to lurk for a bit first before announcing my presence, but that plan was ruined when I decided to follow my good friends Paul and Storm. I just wanted to see what happens when you “follow” someone so I pressed the button and thought nothing more of it. The next time I checked Twitter I was shocked to discover I had almost fifty followers. Paul and Storm had outed me and announced my presence to their legions of minions in Twitterland.

So come find me, if you’d like, and read all the mundane thoughts that in an earlier, quieter age would have remained safely in my head.

After years of resistance I found myself tired, broken, and alone. My  friends had all moved on to the great beyond… Facebook.

Now that I have joined them in that virtual nirvana I can see them once again. Or at least I can see tiny pictures of them. Some are just a face, others a body, still others wear their offspring.  A few have no picture at all, reminding me of the lonely losers of high school with a funny drawing where their head should be in the yearbook.  Some have pictures of themselves as children, making me wonder what disfiguring accident has befallen them. Others are stranger still and have somehow turned into animals since we last met.

Yes, it is a strange new world out there, but soon I will be assimilated, and all this will seem normal and good.

Just like television.