black humor

Little Things

Little things are starting to bother me, perhaps because I’m getting old. I’m fairly sure I’m 55, which I’ve learned is the age men start waking up fourteen times a night to trickle.

I heard younger people say as you get older you stop sweating the small stuff, but I see no sign of that happening to me. I’m Irish, so I’m going down fighting –  even if I don’t know who I’m fighting.

Yes, despite my relatively young old age, I’ve already been blessed by the realization that anger for anger’s sake is the purest form of emotion and the best way to confront my inevitable dance with death. Being so, I plan to withhold my maximum wrath for any member of the medical profession who tells me there’s something growing inside my body that is “the size of a cantaloupe…”

Right now, if pushed, I’d say I’m just entering the everybody-is-an-asshole phase of “aggressive aging.” This means I tell telemarketers to “fuck off” before they say “hello” and while shopping I’m often overcome by the need to punch a random millennial in the face. Luckily, I’m not as angry as John McCain – yet. But, as I get older, I’m looking forward to getting all revved up about killing Syrians and other people that live very far away. Currently, I’m trying to hate Brazilians because they comprise the local help, but it’s not working. Worse case, I can delude myself that my Brazilian cleaning lady is stealing my shit, but unfortunately I’m cognizant enough to realize I’m actually losing my shit. Fortunately, with time, I know this will change. Eventually I’m certain I will be able to convince myself Brazilians caused the Holocaust, the Area 51 coverup, and the 1929 stock market crash. Knowing this, while writing this blog I’m simultaneously practicing spittle-cursing the word, “Brazilians!”

Yup, I’m getting seriously old. And to be honest, the anticipation of further aging is killing me. So, much to look forward to…a face that looks like a meatball pizza due to basil cell carcinoma, regurgitating half a Thanksgiving meal on to my holiday sweater, and consistently smelling like a box of kitty litter… I can’t wait…

Jesus, I just realized I’m an author. Damn, imagine what aging is going to do to my already incoherent books…

Oh well, so much to do and so little time… Item one on my bucket list…a trip to the shoe store to buy some steel-tipped boots so I can kick stuff without hurting my feet… 🙂


The Gigi Epiphany Revisited

 I sent a post about my wife’s cat to my friend Greg at several months ago after he asked me to write about an epiphany…

A few days ago I went on a business trip and when I opened my suitcase I realized my cat had peed on my clothes…offering further proof of my  theory that cats are smarter (and more evil) than people… Don’t believe me? Read on 🙂

The text of my original post:

My tweep Greg asked me to do a guest post on his ultra funny blog, I love Greg’s humor, so I was flattered. I didn’t know there was a funny person in Wisconsin. I remain shocked. I believe my instructions were to share an epiphany.  Lately I’ve had to make money to pay for these things called children, so my capacity for insight has been limited.  But, the other day I had an epiphany worth sharing. It’s not relativity, but it’s close.  It happened after the family cat taught me a lesson.

My epiphany is animals (especially cats) are smarter than people.

“No way!” You say? Think about it. There is plenty of evidence. Have you ever seen a deer walk into a school brandishing a semi-automatic weapon? Have you ever seen a dog text while driving? Have you ever seen a goldfish squander a paycheck on lottery tickets? Not me. In addition, I’ve never read a single story about a rabbit running a ponzi scheme, or a beaver sexting a pic of his pelt. Further, after an extensive Google search, I can reliably report there is no evidence that chipmunks are organizing their resources to build a nuclear weapon. To me, it’s obvious. Animals are simply smarter than people. Sure they eat each other, but it’s only because they’re hungry, and haven’t learned how to apply for food stamps, yet.

The specific event that triggered my epiphany happened last week after I returned from Cape Cod with my family. We had taken a four-day vacation. Normally, our cat, Gigi, would have gone to the Cape with us. But, we brought a friend, so there was no room in our car and we refused to do a Mitt Romney by strapping Gigi to the roof rack. Ultimately, being good pet owners, we explained the situation to Gigi. We then put out ten pounds of cat food out, set the central air to 72F, and left the 24-Hour Mouse Channel on our the large screen TV.

All the niceness didn’t matter. When we returned Gigi was angry. In fact, she had left goodies in every corner of our house, mostly shit and mangled mice. Plus, somehow she put a bunny head in our bed.

Some background. Gigi ended up in our house because I married a woman who forgot kittens become cats. Gigi was a stray, so she knows how to survive. Her specialty is playing cute for food. Her goal is to get on your lap so she can emit her special purr that subliminally repeats the word ‘tuna.’

Everyone loves Gigi, but me, for I’m on to her act. For years she has been trying to isolate me from my family by vying for their limited affection. She particularly likes tripping me, so I’ll swear at her and cause my family to rise in unison to her defense. She knows I know what she is doing, but I always let it slide, confident that Gigi is nothing more than a pathetic cat.

The exact moment of my epiphany was eight o’clock in the morning, the day after we returned from Cape Cod. I was in bed with my wife. When I awoke Gigi was six inches from my nose. She was staring at me. And, I smelled something terrible.

After gathering my senses I suddenly realized Gigi had shit on our brand new white comforter. And it wasn’t a normal shit. Gigi had dragged her ass across our puffy blanket in an apparent attempt to shit write the words ‘Helter Skelter!’ or  ‘Redrum!’

I was ecstatic. My opportunity had arrived to euthanize my long-standing nemesis.

My wife freaks out if I wear shoes in the house. So, I was convinced shit on her brand new white comforter would make her go postal.

“Honey,” I yelled. “Gigi has shit on the new comforter. Look!”

My wife rolled over and woke up. She looked at the mess and her face went red.

“Look!” I said. “Look! Look what Gigi the cat has done!”

Gigi was present. She looked at me. I detected a smile.

“Oh my god!” my poor wife finally yelled. “Gigi must be sick!”

I was shocked.

If I shit on the bed, even if I was terminally ill, my wife would have executed me or at least hit me with a frying pan, but Gigi the cat can ass-draw graffiti on our brand new white comforter and somehow extract sympathy.

I was speechless.

Gigi climbed on to my wife’s lap and purred.

“Poor, Gigi.” My wife said as she patted her cat.

Gigi looked at me long and slow, and then snickered – I swear to God.

I had been had.

Later that day, after a few cold ones, it hit me, my epiphany…animals are smarter than people.





W4$TheAgitationCover400Since I’m a persistent son of a gun, due to the unpopularity of my last novel, the sex comedy, THE GENERAL STORE, I’ve decided to foist another ebook upon my massive fan base. This time it’s YA fiction. The book is called THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED.

All my books come to me in a flash. THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED was no exception. I was sitting in a high school auditorium, listening to a concert, thinking about the Sandy Hook tragedy, when this book hit me, including its title. In the following days, I wrote THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED. I then shelved it because I wasn’t sure it was fit for publication. I was concerned about offending victims of school violence, especially since THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED was written for a young adult audience. But, after reading it a couple times, I think the book’s message outweighs its story. Ultimately, I’ll leave it to others to be the judge. I’d allow my teenagers to read it, but I never said I was a great parent…The good news is I’m fairly certain THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is less offensive than my 5-star religious satire, BILLY GRIST, but what isn’t?

This all being said, at this exact moment, I feel my prior publication concerns are misplaced. For in the end, I figure, THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is just a book. Thus, like any book, it can be put down like a rabid dog. No read. No foul.

Hopefully, all this false angst has piqued your interest. If so, read on, for below is the blurb for THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED, which has been written to inspire related commerce at Please note when purchasing THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED, all income will go directly to me, an independent author seeking to fulfill his life-long dream of generating enough royalty income to purchase an AM/FM clock radio, and a cranberry leisure suit.


Renny Sneed is trying to survive ninth grade, but the odds are against him. He’s tiny, and he lacks social skills. Plus, he has a squeaky voice, crooked teeth, acne, and a brother who ignores him. Even worse, the Snarp twins, mindless jocks, are bullying Renny, and nobody seems to care. The situation appears to be hopeless, but then the noble son of an Iraq war veteran arrives at school, a Texan named Johnny Goldin. Johnny befriends Renny, and Renny experiences happiness for the first time in his life. But, the good times are cut short by a tragedy.

Alone and scared, Renny turns to the adults in his life, but they don’t sense his desperation. Among the clueless is Renny’s stepdad, Dewey Grint. Dewey is a doomsday prepper who is too worried about the upcoming global apocalypse to help his lost stepson. Depressed, Renny turns to his long-time imaginary friend, and X-box avatar, Sergeant Bark, for help. Ever ready and ultra-confident, the good sergeant assures Renny all his problems can be easily resolved via the liberal application of automatic weaponry. And soon thereafter, the battle begins. After watching SpongeBob, and eating a good breakfast, of course…

From the author of BILLY GRIST, THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is a young adult novella. It contains 25,000 words, slightly less than THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA. It is rated PG-13.

My Billy Grist Blurb…

BILLY GRIST is comical parable about the nature of faith. It tells the story of Billy Grist, a man-child who seeks to unite humanity by building a “massive family” only to find his destiny is controlled by a higher power who has other plans for saving mankind…

Part satire, part 9-11 revenge fantasy, BILLY GRIST is narrated by The Great Numero Uno, the leader of the UIUI (Ultra-Intelligent Universe Inspectors) and an avowed misanthropist for having witnessed the evolution of mankind from plankton to our current “sorry” state. The fun begins when the Almighty One reveals His grand plan to The Great Numero Uno, forcing the microscopic egomaniac to relate the story of the world’s ultimate altruist, Billy Grist, to the very people he despises…

Billy is a mulatto born of a deaf father who is obsessed with creating the perfect fruit cocktail, and a gymnast mother who was once capable of “spiking a perfect landing” before growing a noteworthy set of breasts. Billy is also brother to a sister who emits a radiant smile that invokes Beatlemania. Unfortunately, it’s a gift soon quelled by the world’s most wicked disease, Comswalli Nervousa, which causes a wider tragedy that’s eventually capped by an email from the Great Beyond…

Abandoned by God, Billy Grist nonetheless decides to embrace life by using his incredible wealth to build a massive family that includes a broad mix of brothers and sisters. Billy plans to unite the human race, but his noble effort is soon thwarted by a brain-dead terrorist named Calvitor Septor, son of Animus Septor, the inventor of the Jewbie doll, a plush toy with detachable limbs that becomes the must have item within the Middle-Eastern nation of Aridia…

A must-read for Islamic extremists, recently compared to works of Christopher Moore, Vonnegut, and Douglas Adams, BILLY GRIST deploys humor to create a thought-provoking satire that turns sacred cows into hamburger. It’s a recommended read for those willing to embrace the ultimate truth that human beings don’t know jack s@$!! about how or why we were “created.” W4$.

Billy Grist

Billy Grist is FREE at on 5-24-2013

I Caved – BILLY GRIST is FREE tomorrow.

Sorry, I know somewhere back, a month or a two ago, I tweeted that my latest undiscovered masterpiece, BILLY GRIST would never be free. I like to think, I didn’t lie, but I did. The reality is the launch of BILLY GRIST fell flat on its face, forcing me to eat crow. Maybe readers are offended by the first two sentences in the book that speak of God in most unflattering terms.  Or maybe, the Big Guy himself is spiting me for claiming he’s an F-up…

Alas, current sales of BILLY GRIST can be counted on one set of hands that have experienced a serious industrial accident. Accordingly, I’m doing the Amazon KDP thing with BILLY GRIST and posting it for FREE for the next couple days, starting tomorrow, and then again in May.

This being said, if you are one of the few readers that bought BILLY GRIST ping me at and I’ll Paypal your $3.

I don’t write mainstream books. It’s not in me. But, my works are original. well written, and too a few readers very  interesting. So, if you can spare a click download BILLY GRIST tomorrow. I promise it won’t hurt you, but prepare to be offended between laughs.

BILLY GRIST now available at Amazon, at

Billy Grist, Bless Me Father For I Have Sinned, Again…

One of the good things about being indie is you can publish whatever you want, including a book that pokes fun at the Big Guy. If you have a religion, or a nationality, you will likely be offended by BILLY GRIST, but hopefully it will also make you laugh. My intent when I started writing BILLY GRIST was to mix a 9-11 revenge fantasy with a twisted tale of creation, my point being, we’re a fundamentally clueless when it comes to the true nature of our creator. (And, we’d all be better off if we just admitted it…)

The idea for BILLY GRIST came from the loss of a friend in the 9-11 attack. My friend was a young man, a husband with a one-year-old daughter. His tragic death confirmed my long-standing belief that religious fanatics are the scourge of humanity. BILLY GRIST is my pathetic attempt to make this point. This being said, BILLY GRIST, also presents the possibility that God exists, but not in a form that is comprehensible by our ilk, or that of an Ultra Intelligent Universe Inspector…

BILLY GRIST was my first book. I wrote it a couple years ago. When done, I thought it was great. A year later, I thought it was the worst book ever written. Awful. Terrible. But, I hate not finishing things, likely due to the granite lodged in my Irish head, so I re-wrote BILLY GRIST. My beta readers now tell me that BILLY GRIST is no longer awful. But they also warn it’s not “mainstream” material, their exact words being, “only readers with significant mental health issues will enjoy this tale.”

Hmm, since we’re all crazy, I think what they’re really trying to say is BILLY GRIST is destined to be a best-seller 🙂 W4$

BILLY GRIST available 3-10-13 at Smashwords and


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