PoYB from the Vault: Abe's Poems

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Old people are hilarious when they write poetry. This poem, written on the back of a menu, was a gift from an old guy at my retirement home. Abe, a.k.a. "Dr. Smiles," composes a lot of poems, and they are mostly all the same, but it's the thought that counts I guess.

Verle & Jo Fred

I work at the library—I am right now as I type this, actually—and day after day I stare at this poster hanging up a few feet away from me. It amazes me that such an iconic group of musicians shared the stage at some random show in Worchester, Massachusetts. Dylan, Clapton, Hendrix, Fleetwood Mac. When the hell does a line-up like that happen nowadays, besides big music festivals like Lollapalooza or Bonaroo? Never.

It bothers the FUCK out of me, though, because of that one musician (group?) on the same poster. Verle & Jo Fred. Who the fuck are these people? Where did they go? How the hell did they end up on such a legendary bill?

I'll pay someone $10 if they give me some answers. Don't bother with google, I've already tried every combination of words I can think of (I have a lot of time to spare at the library).

I am a curious being, and this has bothered me for quite some time.

Remember This?

I think of Kev C***** whenever I see a little girl point to Howie Long's penis.

What a Creeper!

The following blog post was written by Joe K***, and reflects his thoughts and opinions during the time it was written. Looking back, he doesn’t stand by what he wrote anymore, for various reasons. Please read an explanation HERE. This blog post will remain published as more of a time capsule of how immature or wrongheaded I was. I do not agree with certain things that are written below. People change. I’ve changed. I am sorry.

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above: an ACTUAL creeper

As you all know, I have a few pet peeves when it comes to the use of the English language. I hate when people misuse the word "irony," it peeves me when every story Mike tells involves something "literally" happening (as opposed to "figuratively"!?), and, like you've heard ad nauseam, "it's only awkward if you make it awkward."

Add to the list my the notion of someone being a "creeper."

What constitutes the act of "creeping" nowadays? Merriam-Webster doesn't help much: "That which creeps." Thanks, douchebags. But I think the term "creeper" originally meant a Freddy Kruger-type person. Ya know, the dude that's "creeping" up behind you in a dark alleyway. That's a creeper.

Women today misuse this term. Urban Dictionary states a creeper is, "an offensively unimaginative word devised by tacky, braindead college students to describe people they deem sinister, indecorous, uncouth, or otherwise unpleasant." Ah, so true!

Let's consider a situation a friend of mine found himself in the other day. He had gone on a date with a girl the week previous, and had been texting her since; things were going well. However, she accidentally called him while she was at work. My friend, unsure why she had called and hung up, proceeded to call her twice in a row, and then once an hour later. According to a mutual friend, he was thus deemed a "creep."

What was wrong with what he did? Nothing! He was just making sure everything was alright. And yet now he is labeled a creep. It just doesn't seem right.

I feel like women are the true perpetrator of this slander. They are the ones critiquing every little thing men do and nonchalantly deciding which of those actions are creepy. Roofie in your drink? Creepy, sure. Sending you a goodnight text? NOT creepy!!

I feel like, on the dating scene, men are constantly walking on eggshells because of this. It's hard to have "game" when seemingly innocuous actions can be misconstrued as "creepy."

Remember that scene in Say Anything when Johnny Cusack stands out in the rain with the boombox? In my opinion, that's fucking endearing, and in the '80s, the chick thought so too, and she fell in love with him again.

What would happen if I stood out in the rain with a boombox tonight outside my ex-girlfriend's window? 100% likelihood of: "Woah, who is that creeper out there?"

You know, our ancestors never had to deal with this obstacle. For my grandfather's generation, it was so damn easy to get the girl. Just write her a few letters. Walk right up to her and ask her out. Sing her a song. Write her an Ode.

Write a strange girl a letter these days, and you'll probably get the cops called on you.

All I'm saying is that I'm sick of treading on thin ice when it comes to women. I'm tired of wondering how soon is "too soon" to friend someone on Facebook, how many texts I can send, all the exact boundaries in a fledgling relationship.

For the most part, men have good intentions. If some guy is outside you window singing an ode to you, he probably means for the best. If you want a creeper, walk down a dark alleyway.

above: not a creeper

Beard

above: "I'll take that as a compliment"

In July, I got lazy and allowed my scruff to snowball into a full-on beard.

It was a noble experiment. Mainly, it was an excuse for people to come up with "clever" nicknames for me. Oh boy, y'all have such wit.

Some nicknames:

• Abe Lincoln
• caveman
• Rabbi Joseph
• General Lee
• Grizzly Adams
• Indie Jesus
• Scruff McGruff
• Louie Pasteur (I kid you not)
• others, less clever

Yes, I get it. I look like many people because of my facial hair.

Things the beard has accomplished:

• allowed me to go though a huge dry spell
• made a whole dining room of old people call me ugly
• allowed me to hear constant opinions from people whom I do and do not care about
• made me itchy
• made me a sloppier drinker than I already was
• scared all the freshman women away
• gave me a bunch of new nicknames and made people feel good about themselves for coming up with such witty names

I'm glad you all lead such frivolous lives that my hair is a huge source of amusement

Of course, this is stupid, because if it bothered me that much, I could just shave it. Though, I'm sure when I do, it will make the front page of the Inquirer.

Tonight

It was a melancholy sort of night. Not sad in any sense of the word—our good friend and loyal PoYB contributor Mike was about to set out on a grand journey to London, and he's going to have a great time. Perhaps inspired by the adventure that lay before him, we spent the night reaching into our past, contemplating what led us to this point, how we four young gents met, the good times we shared. A tight knit group such as ourselves only have good things ahead of us, and we discussed those things too. Just one night with the bros, and yet, it was something more.

Then Kev's dog shit all over the carpet.

Happy Father's Day Indeed

I cannot believe I slept through four innings, including a grand slam.

Nick Gilbert: Decidedly Better Than Average

brought to you by the letter FUCK

Now, we all love the Northeast, but we're not blind to its pitfalls. This week's subject: bumper stickers. Let me just begin by saying bumper stickers are the worst form of self-expression. Either your bumper sticker isn't funny, you are aren't funny, or neither you nor the adhesive clever fucking quote affixed to your 1987 Toyota Carolla is funny.

Now, obviously, this isn't a problem confined to our slice of heaven in hell. "Sure," you say, "there are douchebags everywhere." I agree, but think that there's an oddly high percentage of bumper stickers in the area. I'm sure someone reading this right now has a bumper sticker that they fucking love on the back of their '97, teal-green Taurus. Yeah, I get it, your child made the honor roll at a mediocre Philadelphia public elementary school and wanted every one who can't seem to pass them to know. Okay, your kid is a nerd. I could have told you that when I passed you and saw that you make him sit in the back seat even though the shotgun position is unoccupied. Shelter for the win!

There are several reasons that bumper stickers fucking piss me off. Stupidity is the one I've already touched on. The second is the fact that they sometimes straight-up fucking lie. Sir, your other car is NOT a Millennium Falcon. Now, I'm no Private Eye, but I figure if my other car was a Millennium Falcon (or the Starship Enterprise, or Nimbus 2000 for that matter) you wouldn't be puttering the fuck along in your 1993 Acura Legend with two different colored door panels and headlights that don't pop-up the way they should. Your other ride is not my mom, either. Now, my mom may be a filthy, dirty whore, but she has standards, dipshit. That '82 Crown Vic you got at police auction isn't impressing her. You don't really brake for hookers, do you? Everybody knows the best way to keep 'em quiet is to just run 'em over.

I especially hate religious bumper stickers that lie. "Jesus is Awesome!" Woah, slow down the "opinion-presented-as-solid-fact-based-only-on-blind-faith" train. "Holy is Jesus' name." I didn't get my Ph-fucking-D in Ancient Nomenclature, but I'm pretty sure Jesus' name was, in fact, Jesus.

Now, there's one monstrous fucking reason I hate bumper stickers. It's the one that most affects my life. Am I retarded (rhetorical) or does it seem like bumper stickers are the most dense objects in the world? That thin little sheet of plastic and adhesive manages to cram so much mass into it that you can't possibly get your 1991 Dodge Caravan with the hatch bungee-corded closed to top 25 MPH unless you throw it into neutral and run it down the steep side of Mt. Fucking Everest.

If you have bumper stickers, FUCK YOU.

On Heckling

Twitter, Facebook, and fellow bloggers have been making a big deal out of a few harsh words by some guy at some speech last night. Some points to be made by yours truly:

There's the freedom of speech thing, yes. There's also the fact that this Senator was pretty damn rude. Nevertheless, if he feels that strongly about it, I say go for it man.

First, Obama is our President. We elected him because we know he is a strong individual. I think he can take a few unkind words.

Second, the people who are bitching about the heckler are people who typically side with Obama. Where were all of you when Bush had a shoe thrown at him? During that incident, everyone thought it was a big joke, but the word, "you lie!" are apparently an atrocity. Both incidents involved a man who strongly disagreed with our President, both in an outwardly way. You can't take one lightly and one seriously.

A point was made that this weakens the opposition. This, in my opinion, is a good thing. A study shows that Republicans tend to believe things that are outwardly false. If conservatives "look bad" because of an unruly Representative, then good. Fuck 'em.

And hey, everyone, stop making a big deal about it! Let Nancy Pelosi give the stern looks. Don't let it distract you from the issue at hand, the whole point of Obama's speech in the first place—health care.

Now, I don't know shit about the health care issue, which is why I'm wasting my time writing about ignorant suit-and-tie hicks, but I encourage you to go learn about the issues that matter to our nation. Hecklers really don't matter.

Fuck You, Allister E. McGrath

above: the dickhead who owes me $30

For my "Exploring Chrisitianity" class, the teacher required a book called Christianity: An Introduction. I purchased the book (so I thought) and read the first chapter. When I got to class, the teacher was talking about something completely different.

Allister E. McGrath is the author of Christianity: An Introduction. Upon further inquiry, I found him to be the author of the following books:

• Christianity: An Introduction
• Christian Theology: An Introduction
• An Introduction to Christianity

Yes, they are all different books.

Guess which one I didn't get?

Fuck you, Allister E. McGrath. Fuck you.

above: YOU FUCK