Who I Am

by Sally Putterman

Some people would be very shocked if they heard me fart.  Tooting is not who I am.  It is not a part of my body’s vernacular.  I’m not the type of person to let one rip in the middle of a party or a family gathering or even among my most intimate relations. 

I save them up.  I store them in the deepest recesses of my bootal cavity until an appropriate time and place presents itself, preferably someplace devoid of populace, someplace isolated.  Usually the toilet.  Then, oh but then, I release my gas with such power and passion that its glory knows no bounds.

New Zombie Blog

Now that the big Zombie craze is pretty much over, I've decided to publish a zombie novel and give it away for free.  Technically, it's more of a parody novel since The Zombie Bocephus isn't your ordinary zombie.  He doesn't dine on brains and unlike "Hollywood zombies" he has a sparkling personality.   Not only is Bo the world's first "real life" zombie, he's also the world's first member of the living dead from the redneck persuasion. (Technically he's white trash, but let's not get into that now.)  Bo aims to solve his own murder, locate a missing girl, act as a go-between two rival mad scientists, and fend off a pack of mutant squirrels.  And that's just in the first 75 pages!

Redneck GPS Navigator

A Sketch by Christamar Varicella

CAST: KENNETH, BARB, BILLY BOB

KENNETH AND BARB GET INTO A CAR DRESSED FOR A FORMAL OCCASION.

BARB

Do you have directions?

KENNETH

(PULLS OUT CELL PHONE)I’ll use GPS.  I just downloaded a new voice app.

Woody Allen Peed on Me

by

Al Butterman 

So I happened to be in the park when Woody Allen and Mia Farrow made their joint statement, and I must say I was surprised by the defiant tone Woody struck.  Using all those loaded words like “petting” and “intercourse.” I mean, how about some sensitivity?  Later I was equally surprised when he sauntered into the grandstands where I was sitting. 

I said to myself, “Wow.  This is my chance to talk to Woody Allen.”  So I yelled out, “Hey Woody!  Why’d you molest your daughter?”  Because, you know, just making conversation.

An Ode to My Underwear

A Poem I Wrote in College

or

An Ode to Claire

by Purvis McGrew

Underwear is fun to wear.

I only own a single pair.

Tis she alone for whom I care.

Her name is Claire.