A Poem for People and Walruses Who Aren't Sure If They Are Really In Love

Filly was a walrus, a fat and angry walrus
and Filly had a frilly little dress that he would wearus
He'd put it on and twirl about like he was in the circus
but Filly wasn't in the circus, he was an accountant
Filly crunched the numbers for the rich men in their jackets
and Filly crunched so well, those men made money by the buckets
and Filly wasn't penniless, and Filly wasn't loaded
but when it came to love, let's just say Filly was without it

Filly Filly Filly was a lonely angry walrus
He begged to heaven every day to send an angel forward
He'd wear his dress and dance around in hopes someday he could kiss
the pretty partner walrus Filly waited for with patience

Filly waited for his life for partnering to happen
but eventually Filly died lonely and forgotten
The moral of this story is that Filly was a walrus
and there was no perfected love out lusting for his touches
and sometimes even walruses are born to belong single
so if you have a good one, keep them and also be thankful

Butt, Doctor...

A good lady stuck her finger up my butt yesterday. I'm having a series of problems that seem to involve digestion, so some think it could also possibly involve my poop region. I don't mean to be so blunt, but I can't very well treat this with seriousness. After all, it involves my butt. POOP comes out of there. It is deep within that dark cavern where many jokes have been born.

She was a nice lady, and I felt sorry for her. Much like the gentleman who I had to apologize for asking him where the enemas lived, I also apologized to this pretty, friendly doctor for having to have a job where part of her responsibility is begloving a finger and then putting it in my butt. In all honesty, as far as butts go, mine probably isn't that bad. But then again, many people who have been at fault for being in a car accident claim to be great drivers.

However, I beg for your sympathy here - I do believe my butt is more magnificent than some. I wouldn't say it's the best, or the most odorless, or the least foul, but it's definitely not as bad as they come. I don't encourage anyone to put a nose to my own southern nostril and take a whiff, but you could definitely snack near my posterior and not fear a demon scent. Alas, I can't even help but be poetic. Literacy is a sign of a cleanly behind.

The kind doctor lady finger owner said my butt looked fine. Many black men over the years have stated that sentiment. I should have saved my money and simply listened to them.

LIFE UPDATE

Still alive.

Best Blog Ever!

Hi. So, the Bloggies nominations are going on, and I do believe today is the last day to nominate blogs for awards. If you are one of the blog people, please consider:

Jessy Delfino's Blog - there are several categories it could fit into, but I think I like Lifetime Achievement Award the best. It's for a long-standing blog. I believe mine qualifies! I've had this bitch cunt since 2001.

or

How To Be A Better Boyfriend (www.betterboyfriend.blogspot.com)

Sure, it got raved over on Metafilter (and then systematically shit upon) but it has it's moments, either way. Nominate that shit! Awards make people's lives more palatable.

Nominate here: http://2006.bloggies.com/

SHOW TONIGHT

I'll be at Maxwell's in Hoboken with friends Whitest Kids You Know and Milton Katz at 8 PM. Come for the comedy show, stay for the comedy show.

While I'm plugging shows, here's one coming up at R&R Bar in the meat packing district:
www.unclenats.com

CASTING CALL

I'm filming a video for my new electronic dance hit "My Pussy Is Magic". I need some fly girl dancers for the background to dance and look hot and be in the video. It will be filmed in late Jan, early Feb. Email jessdelfino@yahoo.com if you like to dance in a foolish manner. This will not be a serious video and no actual experience or talent at dancing will be necessary. I need mostly girls, but men may wear wigs and dress in drag for the video as well.

INTERNAL CLEANSING

I've never had an enema, but was considering it recently due to a string of various health problems I've been encountering. I went to a website called curezone as recommended by a friend and poured over all the various links about enemas. That website is very intense. It talks a lot about parasites and mucoid plaque, some kind of green rock lining formation which we all have encrusted into our colons due to a lifetime of McDonald's and potato chips. I read a lot of the stuff on there and it encouraged me to consider giving myself an enema. I've never douched or had an enema, but considering how shitty I feel on a daily basis, I have decided it could almost not make things worse. To make me feel better about the fact that I'm considering sticking a tube up my butt and pooping out water in an attempt to find relief, I have changed this procedure from the classless "enema" to the new and improved "butt douche" to make it seem more like something they do in cartoons and not like a serious health ordeal.

I went to Eckerd's to see what kind of butt douches they had, but I couldn't find them, so I had to ask the counter guy where the butt douches were. It was embarrassing to me to have to ask the young, almost handsome pharmacy clerk where the butt douche was, so I actually started the sentence by saying, "sorry to have to do this to you, sir." He acted like I was even crazier for acting like sticking a tube up my butt and forcing my colon to gargle wasn't something perfectly fine and normal that we should all do all the time. He pointed me in the direction of the anal mouthwash, then watched me closely as I examined each government-issued looking box. I guess he did this so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. They all looked so sterile, like the man himself made them in a lab where they also experiment on pigs with bleach. They looked scary and I didn't trust that there wasn't bad stuff in them because as far as I am concerned, the man is satan and he wants to ass fuck us all with poison so we never shit right again and will spend more money on his pills and doctors.

(NOTE: If you think this sounds like crazy talk, consider that many women will have their uteruses removed by the time they reach middle age, as an attempt to curb fibroid tumor growths due to all the extra hormones added to meat and milk and cheese and eggs. This is only one reason to become vegan and eat organic foods - foods which have been grown in non-pesticide soil or added dangerous chemicals and hormones. If you think this all sounds crazy, go and do some research. Google that shit. Or, ask your mom and ten of her friends if they've ever had a fibroid tumor and see how many say yes. I myself am not vegan, but I no longer eat meat, have almost completely cut out eggs, cheese, milk, caffeine and sugar, and will soon be douching my butt in an attempt to cleanse any poison out of my colon. I know I won't live forever, but the years I am alive, I'd like to not spend in pain.)

The government-issued boxes made me feel so uncomfortable, I have decided to wait until I can either get a trusted friend to give me a butt douche or I have the balls to do it myself and the knowledge to make some kind of natural herb witch doctor recipe out of spices and magic. Or someday I'll spend the big bucks and have a celebrity butt doucher do it for me. I wonder who J Lo uses?

Pussy Jokes Are Heredetary!

Turns out my great grandmother was a potty-mouthed filth fountain. Thank god, because up til now I thought that there was really something very wrong with me. I thought I was some kind of dirty joke spewing freak of our family. But it turns out I'm just following in the family footsteps.

I used to get my mouthed washed out with soap on a daily basis. If only she had been alive to laugh at my jokes, she might have spared me many mouth scrubbings with the soap of the 70s day.

Here is one of my great grandmother's famous jokes:

A woman gets out of the shower and her son points to her spinach. He says, "Mommy, what's that?" She says, "That's where the Indian got me with the hatchett." So he replies, "That Indian got you right in the cunt!"

Now it's barely a dirty joke, but back in the 30s she must have been a regular Joan Rivers!

Here's an interpretive poem about this anecdote:

Pussy jokes can be hereditary
I don't even know if I'm spelling hereditary right
but that's not important.
What's important is that my great grandmother told pussy jokes.
Hallelujah! and Hurrah!
Thank you.
I needed to have some resolve with my inner voice
which dies, bending and coughing up vagina jokes
in her sleep every night
I'm no lesbian
even if I appear to be protesting too much
I just like what Mr. Universe gave me down there