My CV couldn’t get any traction
‘Til I checked the “Minority” faction
Sure I may look like Wonder Bread
But my soul’s 1/32 Red
I wasn’t asked to justify that when
Harvard hired me away from Penn
Oh it may look like fraud or worse
But so what? I made them more diverse
Cherokee Professor, picked by Laurence Tribe
So proud to game, so proud to lie
They’ve made an issue of my self-selection
(Like “honor” counts in a close election!)
“Identity” is important when you’re
A suburban white gal who is up for tenure
Cherokee Professor, picked by Laurence Tribe
So proud to game, so proud to lie
I do have a cause though. it is obscenity. I’m for it. unfortunately the civil liberties types who are fighting this issue have to fight it owing to the nature of the laws as a matter of freedom
Peech and stifling of free expression and so on but we no what’s really involved: dirty books are fun. that’s all there is to it. but you can’t get up in a court and say that I suppose. it’s sim
Matter of freedom of pleasure, a right which is not guaranteed by the constitution unfortunately. anyway, since people seem to be marching for their causes these days I have here a march for mi
T’s called…
Smut!
Give me smut and nothing but!
A dirty novel I can’t shut,
If it’s uncut,
And unsubt- le.
I’ve never quibbled
If it was ribald,
I would devour where others merely nibbled.
As the judge remarked the day that he
Acquitted my aunt hortense,
“to be smut
It must be ut-
Terly without redeeming social importance.”
Por-
Nographic pictures I adore.
Indecent magazines galore,
I like them more
If they’re hard core.
(bring on the obscene movies, murals, postcards, neckties,
Samplers, stained-glass windows, tattoos, anything!
More, more, I’m still not satisfied!)
Stories of tortures
Used by debauchers,
Lurid, licentious, and vile,
Make me smile.
Novels that pander
To my taste for candor
Give me a pleasure sublime.
(let’s face it, I love slime.)
All books can be indecent books
Though recent books are bolder,
For filth (I’m glad to say) is in
The mind of the beholder.
When correctly viewed,
Everything is lewd.
(I could tell you things about peter pan,
And the wizard of oz, there’s a dirty old man!)
I thrill
To any book like fanny hill,
And I suppose I always will,
If it is swill
And really fil
Thy.
Who needs a hobby like tennis or philately?
I’ve got a hobby: rereading lady chatterley.
But now they’re trying to take it all
Away from us unless
We take a stand, and hand in hand
We fight for freedom of the press.
In other words,
Smut! (I love it)
Ah, the adventures of a slut.
Oh, I’m a market they can’t glut,
I don’t know what
Compares with smut.
Hip hip hooray!
Let’s hear it for the supreme court!
Don’t let them take it away!
On Friday, actually. I was delighted to be able to number Larry and his lovely wife Peggy among my friends here. Not in the “go out together/live at each other’s place” type of friends, but the easy kind of friends you have. Where it seems like you’ve know each other forever, see one another on the porch of a business, or the post office, say “Hi!”, hug (MEAN it) and sit a spell. Know all the questions to ask to catch up on family, life and enjoy the conversation.
Larry was another of those local Pensacola prodigies I’m always marveling about. We first met when I was delivering my glasses to a business in Orange Beach, Alabama. Killing time waiting for the owner, I struck up a conversation with the genial, bearded gent in the Hawaiian shirt sprawled in an hot turquoise Adirondack chair on Tootie Green’s porch. Things went from there, since Peggy was a dear friend of said owner and wound up helping out there a lot. The CD’s Larry was recording in his home studio were selling like hotcakes at Tootie’s and he would have signing sessions on weekends. For his birthday one year, I even did him up a big, fat wine glass covered with everything imaginable music-wise ~ from clefs to notes, staffs and codas. I think I even threw in a “maestro” for good measure.
And in all honesty, that was before…well, here’s the wonderful thing about Larry Butler. I “knew” Larry, but Larry never made sure you knew “who” he was. I only knew he played a mean piano when I made his birthday goblet, vaguely recognized he was a local luminary and I’d known him for a couple years. He was sweet Larry on the porch I always looked forward to seeing.
Imagine my surprise when I heard he also wrote songs. You might have heard of this one ~ it won a Grammy.
But he didn’t just play piano and write songs. He produced albums for other guys. You might have heard of one of these, too.
Matter of fact, in 1979 he won a Grammy Award for Producer of the Year, the only Nashville producer to ever win the award.
But you would have never known he had this “other” life until he started to tell stories, and then you’d wonder, “Where on EARTH…?”, like I did the first time I was at the edge of a Butler story circle on the porch. Mesmerizing. And entertaining as HELL.
Oh, God bless him. What a doll.
The Grinch has several of Larry’s CD’s that he was kind enough to autograph for him ~ I haven’t broken the news to him yet. major dad had to stop by the Community Center to drop off the card for Peggy and Schanda for me, since I had to work. He said the place was packed. I knew it would be.
LAST October, I won the Nobel Prize in economics for my work on unemployment and the labor market. But I am unqualified to serve on the board of the Federal Reserve — at least according to the Republican senators who have blocked my nomination. How can this be?
Hmm, let’s see, we have a President who won the Nobel Peace Prize.
How’s that working out?
Read on to learn a bit more about this humble servant that those partisan neanderthals on the right side of the aisle have denied us.
Boo-friggin-hoo.
This reminds me of a song I wrote at Tim’s many years ago to the tune of Springsteen’s “Brilliant Disguise”
Bill and Al sent teams to Kyoto
We thought they had the fix on
But in the Senate Chambers
Our guys oh baby they ran from Exxon
Oh sure our data’s confusing
I’ll grant some of our theories are sketchy
But we’ve PhDs goddammit!
We’re smart, you’re morons,
So stop your kvetching.
Oh Al you didn’t work
To turn the “nays” into “ayes”
And now there’s no treaty
Just a Kyoto surprise
Tonight my tofu is cold
It’s illegal to fire up my stove
God have mercy on the man
Who crosses Karl Rove…
Look for the bear domesticies,
Those signs of bear comfort and ease,
Forget about jihad; think ursine strife
I mean those bear simplicities
(such things as fur and large feces) They’ll keep you from virgins in your next life…
(with apologies to Tom Lehrer)
The loveliest girl in Wasilla
The best shot with balls or a gun
Of moose and incumbents a killa’
She’s gutted both during her run
Granny-glassed Gibson derided
As he queried ’bout Anwar Sadat
She gleefully said “It’s decided”
“We’re drilling in ANWR; that’s that!”
Sarah Palin
Oh the Netroots are a’wailin’
Is it your frosted lipgloss
That infuriates Wonkette and Kos?
Andrew Sullivan’s having a hissy fit
(He’s risen to Top Bottom Feeder)
He wants to see the birth certificate
For one must take care with a Breeder
The Media chooses well said words
As they polish their “impartial” sheen
They ignored the tale of John Edwards
To focus on tort’ring a teen
Sarah Palin
Your intimate life they’re detailing
Seeking the Great Mother Lode
As their tilted heads jointly explode
Your speech wowed folks at the Convention
But the Minions of One started chidin’
“All the words were not her own invention”
Like the speeches of their glorious Biden
Her selection now threatened Obama
Who’s candidacy seemed heaven sent
He said “I’m the one true re-forma;
I’ve courageously voted ‘Present!'”
Sarah, Sarah
Is this the dawn of a new era?
Are women now free to be…free?
The “Progressives” are bitchin’
“Get back in the kitchen!”
“No Amazon for our VP!”
(with apologies to Warren Zevon)
I saw a werewolf with a Mersey Beat in her hands
Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain
She was looking for the Squire of Mull of Kintyre
Planning to get herself pounds from Penny Lane
Ah-ooooooh
Werewolf of London
Ah-ooooooh
If you hear her howling ’round your kitchen door
Better not let her in
She won’t need or feed you when you’re 64
Werewolf of London again
Ah-ooooooh
Werewolf of London
Ah-ooooooh
She’s the golden-tressled gal who married Alfie Karmal
Lately she’s been on the phone in Brighton
Don’t you take pics of her
She’ll rip your film out sir
Huh. She ain’t the new Diana
Ah-ooooooh
Werewolf of London
Ah-ooooooh
Well I saw her crying ’bout piggies in a pen
Doing the Werewolf of London
I heard her cryin’ “this is now and that was then”
Doing the Werewolf of London
I saw a Werewolf dancing a merengue with the Stars
Her steps were perfect
Ha!
Ah-ooooooh
Werewolf of London
Ah-ooooooh
Heh Draw Blood…
Fun, Songs | Mr. Bingley | 
April 6, 2024 8:21 am | 
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