Prostate Exam When I’m 30

I was talking to a good friend friend today and his birthday is this month and it got me thinking 30 is right around the corner for me I thought it would be hillarious if I was to go into the proctologist and ask him if he could remove my man beef stick from my pants and assist me in a masterbation session while he inserts his fingers in my poop shoot

Then I thought if I was to take it a step further when he tells you to drop your pants I whistle and in runs a transvestite prostitute that drops to his knees and gives me hand and oral pleasures really fast and then proceed to moan and groan like a stuck pig throwing your head back like a bucking bronco then when the doc freaks I turn around look at him like a idiot and say what the fuck you waiting for put your fingers in my ass my insurance is paying good money for this

Then I thought if I was to take it a step further it would be even funnier to walk in the docs office with a stick of blue bonnet butter cut in fourths and set it on the counter and you do the small talk to break the uncomfortable awkwardness then he tells you to drop your pants and bend over once your poop stained tiny pants are around your ankles I excuse myself and hop over to the counter and grab a ¼ of blue bonnet and start mushing it in your hand and before he puts fingers in my goodies I start beating my wang really hard and fast then he stops and says what the hell are doing I stand up straight look him in the eye and say nothing”ok lets try this again” and as I turn around I immediately get right back into beating it even harder and faster this time then the doc yells at the top of his lungs what hell you doing man I stop stand up straight turn around wipe the sweat off my brow look him straight in the eye and say nothing!!! are we gonna do this or what? Then shrug my shoulders in a pissed off manner and I turn around to bend back over I say excuse me hop back over to the counter grab myself another ¼ stick of blue bonnet hopping back over to the table with a hard stiff one bouncing around the doc cant believe whats happening as you bend over you tell him will you finger me now while looking over my left shoulder give him a wink

Just a funny thought

Victor Bravo

3-BROTHERS

This train doesn’t owe three brothers and a dear friend a damn thing

it can jump track just as easy as we can ignite four back packs

full C4 with I pod detonators on our way to the city

that has a chip on its shoulder in this under water vessel.

I wouldn’t stone a man for stealing a fish

boulders were thrown at my face scaring my brow

liquor filled feeling fantastic taking in wheat water

and our favorite whiskeys with my two favorite people

purple blue green and yellow lights slice through our eye lids

while the beautiful melodies caress the deepest parts of our inner ears

we spit in the face of the city slap its cheeks and piss in its trash cans

the over zealous Asian woman smokes cigarettes and does what she does

Zantzinger beat her with a cane for not filling his drink order fast enough, telling her. “I don’t have to take that kind of stuff off a nigger.”   Hours later Carroll, who had a history of high blood pressure, collapsed and died. The injustice was memorialized in the “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” by Bob Dylan. The song became an anthem recounting in vivid detail the real state of affairs in the “home of the free”.

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll,
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’,
And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him
As they rode him in custody down to the station,
And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder.

But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face, now ain’t the time for
your tears.

William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years,
Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres
With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him,
And high office relations in the politics of Maryland,
Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders,
And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was
snarling,
In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking.

But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face, now ain’t the time for
your tears.

Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen.
She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children
Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage,
And never sat once at the head of the table
And didn’t even talk to the people at the table,
Who just cleaned up all the food from the table,
And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level,
Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane
That sailed through the air and came down through the room,
Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle.
And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger.

But you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all fears,
Take the rag away from your face, now ain’t the time for
your tears.

In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel,
To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the
level
And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and
persuaded,
And that even the nobles get properly handled
Once that the cops have chased after and caught ‘em,
And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom,
Stared at the person who killed for no reason,
Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’.
And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished,

And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance,
William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence.

Oh, but you who philosophize, disgrace and criticize all
fears,
Bury the rag deep in your face, for now’s the time for your
tears.

Make me, oh make me, Lord more than I am
Make me a piece in your master game plan
Free from the earthly tempestion below
I’ve got the will, Lord if you’ve got the toe.

Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life
End over end neither left nor to right
Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights
Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.

Take all the brothers who’ve gone on before
And all of the sisters who’ve knocked on your door
All the departed dear loved ones of mine
Stick’em up front in the offensive line.

Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life
End over end neither left nor to right
Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights
Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.

Yeah, Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life
End over end neither left nor to right
Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights
Drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.