Albert Einstein Haiku

“The laws of physics
And invariant space can’t
Co-exist. Dumbass.”

Baby Knows Best

Everybody loves babies. They’re like puppies, but smellier. And while most of them appear to be so similar early on (bald, no teeth, bowed legs, self-centered … kinda like old people), obviously every baby is as unique as a “Rocky” sequel. But not just different from a fingerprints or serial killer/not serial killer gene standpoint. It turns out that:

Some babies are addicts:




Some babies are masochists:



Who knew? Here I was clinging to the belief that cognitive thinking and complex satisfaction impulses were things that only more fully developed and higher functioning brains were capable of understanding. Boy, do I feel like an idiot. Thanks for the wake up call Rite Aid. Oh, and thanks for enabling our diaper-clad future leaders.

Endless Love

Donnie: “Hey baby, before you get too big, let’s get our portrait made…you know, to have a record of our love and whatnot.”

Trisha: “You mean like a painting?”

Donnie: “No, I mean like something classy. Like an Olan Mills picture, if we were rich.”

Trisha: “My cousin has a camera.”

Donnie: “Great. You think she’d take our picture…you know, so one day when Donnie Jr. grows up he can see how much momma and daddy were so totally into each other?”

Trisha: “Sure. We could probably even do it in my aunt’s dining room. She’s got this awesome forest thing painted on the wall. It’s so real you don’t even want to know.”

Donnie: “I’m getting my tips frosted Wednesday. Maybe we could do it then.”

Trisha: “That reminds me, I’m out of Prell. Oh well, no biggie.”

Donnie: “I’ll need to get my gold cross earring back from you, too. Or I could just wear your silver loop.”

Trisha: “Awwww…that is sooooo sweet!”

Donnie: “Wear something that shows off your butt.”

Trisha: “My Lady Wrangler’s are kinda clean.”

Donnie: “Yeah, my hand fits over that back pocket perfectly. Like it was made to go there. Damn, what about my mangled starfish tattoo? I want to show it off but all twelve of my sleeveless t-shirts have either grease or blood on them!”

Trisha: “Don’t you have any tank tops?”

Donnie: “I gave them all to my mom.”

Trisha: “Well, we could always do it topless.”

Donnie: “Yeah…all artsy and stuff. Like how they used to make statues in the Roman times. But with my junk covered up.”

Trisha: “This is going to be the best portrait ever.”

Donnie: “It could be our Christmas card!”

Trisha: “We have to remember to send one to my daddy this year.

Donnie: “Will they let him put it up in his cell?”

Trisha: “As soon as he’s out of solitary.”

Donnie: “I love you so much baby.”

Trisha: “We’ll be together forever.”

Yes I Can!

Yes, I certainly can. And now you can, too! Make your own at http://obamiconme.pastemagazine.com/