Letting Go of the Limerick

I created an Instagram account in late 2017 in large part due to the recommendation of my pal Geoff. It was the culmination of my first year as a true “foodie,” or comestible connoisseur — I loathe the term “foodie” for, on some denigratory level, making it seem like being serious about food “pairs well” with safety and cuteness — as I documented my mother’s homemade macaroni and cheese in the first post, a dish that at the time had been subject to my prodding for the implementation of fennel seeds much to Harry’s protestation, the result tasty enough to survive the modification. (Appears I still have that immutable need to rhyme when discussing IG.) The woman herself, an excellent cook, would comment on many posts throughout the years by facetiously (debatable) admonishing me for not crediting her as the hands that made the pictured meal, instances of culinary criticism I ignored or chose to play dumb about to further irk her, a far too apt synopsis of our seesaw relationship and proof that online interactions between parents and children can all too easily teeter on the tumble to opprobrium.

In the initial run of posts, I would limit myself to four or five disjunctive sentences while more or less ridiculing the app’s format [Editor’s Note: I’ve only ever used the website.] by typing byzantine gibberish and hashtagging literal nonsense like perfect rhymes of the item shown; I’m certain “smack a lonely man, geez” didn’t register to any macaroni and cheese fans looking for a quick, mindless dopamine hit. A year or so later, owing to some impulse to pursue a greater goal, I opted to begin writing haikus. The five/seven/five syllable structure proved challenging at times, an unsatisfactory way to publish poetry on The Cracker (I would mention in a couple posts how the graham cracker was invented to curtail people’s masturbatory habits, a fact that doesn’t have anything to do with Instagram, the self-centered truth of the matter nonetheless permitting me to semi-synonymously reference the app’s redolent nickname, The Gram, and since the site is geared toward monetization opportunities, should any company producing the sugary cardboard snack want to form a paid partnership declaring their onanistic outrage, I’ll take a Brazzers gift card and pallet of Astroglide as the “cautionary tale”-themed paradoxical payment for my endorsement).

On September 25th, 2019, I posted my first limerick. If I was a more delusional user, I’d italicize it here now in the center of the page, but I know who I am as well as the limits of your condescension. (“Do you though, AHF? Cuz in my experien — ” “Don’t tempt me to block you!”) My limerick logic was quite simple: they’re fun to write and people like how the format flows. And there was my physiological desire to post in a signature obverse way yet also via a methodology that could function as a visual companion to my own daily journal entries, the public limericks ultimately subsuming the scale of my confidential analog verbosity. I could view a bygone ice cream cone or breakfast sandwich and immediately recall the moment frozen on the screen along with numerous details from the day itself, especially memorable daylong jaunts with Sue, the rest of the outing’s additional photographic mementos stored protectively out of reach on her phone or external hard drive since my pursuits required one photo whereas she, a woman who didn’t crave attention in cyberspace, needed hundreds to share with her stuffed animal coterie.

Me being me, in my fondness for adorning Groucho Marx glasses and colorful wigs, I would later mix up my regimen by taking selfies mugging in the bathroom mirror while deep throating bananas — including a morning when I cut the top off one and put it in my mouth much to the (allegedly) envious chagrin of my phalanx of female followers — a ritual spawned by sending the evidence to friends who were at first startled before it briskly became old hat like any absurd shit I do, upping the ante by posting, as one co-worker would nickname it, my “Blizzy Gladiator” exploits to deride Instagram’s unending selfies, the competition’s work enhanced by filters and technological legerdemain, a select percentage featuring teasing strangers blatantly hinting at their primary softcore pornography careers on more salacious popular apps, Instagram doing double duty as a S(afe)F(or)W(ork) libidinous place for horn dogs to placate their impromptu cravings while away from home, so why not offer them my own performative bullshit to ruin their carnal content feed. (Sucks that you couldn’t turn that loquacious marathon into a scroller derby, huh scroller?) My posts, intermittently written in the third person and sometimes breaking the fourth wall, were rarely well-liked, the one that received the most attention being a black and white photo of the alluring (and deceased) Danish-born French actress Anna Karina, a publicity photo I obviously did not take. Sidebar: I will not deny enjoying people’s likes, but countless posts barely got more than two likes, a fact that never deterred my mission to treat social media foremost as a playground for my daily artistic exercise while routinely ruminating on why I should expect anyone to care about blurry or deep focus-averse photos anchored to Ogden Nash-indebted couplets. People double-tapped their screens most for my normalcy: at a ballpark or holding a real (or animatronic) cat, simply being relatable, something I tended to find uncomfortably dull while hoping to disturb the humdrum with accompanying inflammatory AABBAs as often as possible.

I would post things other than food as time went on — records and books in particular — but any time a candy bar or oddball beverage made its way into my hands, I’d force myself to document its temporary existence in my life, my left foot appearing in the frame on purpose like some kind of illogical watermark stamping my spin on “content creation,” another modern day phrase I abhor. There were many limericks written about food from favorite restaurants, the Maine Diner being the most obvious, a post I concocted in advance brought on by my obsession with studying their menu and planning my unctuous order to fetishize it for the week leading to the visit. “How many times have you posted this?” my buddy asked me when I took yet another shot of the photogenic platter at a local Lebanese joint I love, my imperative insistence on documenting the best meal within reasonable driving distance (also my way of praising local business owners, my friends-for-an-hour Ali and, as Aysha’s known, “his beautiful wife”) having received my buddy’s faux scorn several times, the irony being that the man earns his living taking photographs of Connecticut politicians, none of whom, or so I assume, are as deliciously refreshing as the hole in the wall’s nutmeg-flavored yellow rice and Fattoush salad. My fiercest self-debate had concerned Sue’s personal rule to not post her photo on the Internet, one I pondered breaking for a month after she died, dotingly choosing to transmit her brightness and keep her alive in the world at large with the knowledge that she was planning to post videos of herself on TikTok before she got sick. The image documenting our laughing hysterically on a bridge, the fourth and final shot in an increasingly hilarious sequence and my favorite photo of us together, served as my farewell post in 2023, literally the most life-changing year I’ve yet to live.

Throughout my career as the Internet’s limerick laureate, I wrote one thousand seven hundred and two of them prior to feeling like the time was right to stop and do something else. When revisiting my output central themes and rhyming end words began to repeat themselves, not shocking news to an obsessive-compulsive control freak who typed many of them while guzzling gin and/or smoking jazz cabbage, occasionally navel-gazing through the solipsistic showcase by digging backward for meaningless fraught minutes to confirm if a specific word had been plucked from a bygone anapestic predecessor, as if one unknown yet knowing fan might call me out for duplicating my own circumlocution, the unbearable shame haunting my ephemeral kingdom of verse. March is a time when I typically look back in advance of the annual trip south — my personal year metaphorically begins anew in April, at least in my imagination — and in not penning an essay about our anniversary nor spotlighting Sue’s writing like in antecedent Marches, this reminiscence can serve, at least in part, as a minor tribute to her, the biggest fan of these limericks, regularly including her favorite from the week in her handwritten notes she read aloud to me on Saturday car rides while additionally discussing her “good friend” Tyler Oakley’s podcast, a photo of the blue-haired, bespectacled celebrity with Sue on the wall greeting visitors should they look to the left when forced to taking off their shoes upon entering my house-museum.

In case you are unfamiliar—”Longtime muter, first-time reader”—my prurience is apparent throughout these posts, a foul-minded man who loves to cuss and be even more perverted than IRL behind his screen. There’s plenty of esoterica as well, but that’s how it’s supposed to go on something as self-indulgent as social media, right? I’ve included a brief description of the limerick when necessary, given this presentation strips the poetry of its optical counterpart. Immodest though it may scan, I believe the best ones get the job done on their own. Not to further disparage their decision, but since a number — sixty-seven, or “six seven” as it is said aloud — was named last year’s Word of the Year by Dictionary.com, I’ll mock a trend one last time on my way out the digital door by including my six seven [sic] favorite limericks.

Will I still post on Instagram? I assume so, but it’ll be a bit until I do, although the temptation to engage in more self-promotion is the carrot dangling in my psyche (and yes, it looks delicious, or as I’d have coupled it in pre-retirement, “I likey”). As a man who considers two modernist poems the finest writing he knows, I hate to abandon poetry, not that I won’t keep thinking in a rhyming format while trying to find new ways to celebrate the quotidian and quixotic in my mind. You may not see or read these daily bars — to acknowledge how hip-hop-influenced heads refer to rhymes nowadays — but I will happily take private requests since there’s no way Artificial Intelligence can affix a wig and glasses while jamming eight inches of potassium deep down its screen. When I die from blizzy asphyxiation, a trending online challenge truncated as #blizzphyx, tell them this:

There once was an Instagram poster
Who took to the trivial like a roaster
But he was pretty delusional
When writing about the usual
Since his followers were asked if they remembered anything he wrote and each one politely said, “No, sir!”

★ ★ ★ ★

The 67
I was writing a wonderful haiku
But decided to try something new
So for this mac and cheese
That brought me to my knees
I wrote a limerick for you
09/25/19

This movie is not what I thought was planned
Which may seem confusing so let me expand
I expected the joker
To also be a midnight toker
Guess it’s not a biopic of the Steve Miller Band
10/15/19

In Providence it’s called a pizza round
Which is a circle of bread topped with a marinara mound
You can admire its simplicity
Or better yet, this free publicity
But when you eat one in the forest it won’t make a sound
11/03/19

Outside L.L. Bean I sought
A tasty snack to hit the spot
Upon spotting Johnny Rockets
I was happy to empty my pockets
See ya later, tater tot
12/07/19

Yet another pal clutching my bestseller
Ready to reap the rewards of a gifted storyteller
Until she reaches the page full of slander
Refusing to give another syllable a gander
Then takes the paperback outside like Old Yeller
01/13/20

As a former diet soda fiend
I had to quit by being weaned
Now @lacroixwater has brought me back in the fold
And truth be told
The only way I stop drinking this is when I’m quarantined
03/03/20

Sylvester Graham provided this cracker’s inspiration
Which he hoped would help cure masturbation
While it seems embarrassing to bring this up
I always eat them before abstaining from “2 Girls 1 Cup”
Then my aching sack’s in need of refrigeration
03/24/20

They never explained what happens when life gives you limes
So the secret’s being revealed via Corona rhymes
You don’t get to leave your domicile
And through the hardship you must affix a fake smile
While awaiting a return to touchier times
03/26/20

Introductory jape
Follow up takes shape
Unexpected diversion
Unwelcome perversion
Let the audience escape
05/06/20
(template for my style alongside pecan pralines)

The epitome of a finger food
Promoting a film that defines subdued
Can’t I crunch while Krasinski and Blunt
Watch their neighbors get murdered by a storefront
Or would that interrupt the verisimilitude?
05/21/20
(bag of Bugles with A Quiet Place marketing)

No matter what I ordered the review would be the same
Cuz there’s love and a smile hidden within each frame
From fresh salad to fried haddock to buttery stuffed mushrooms
Kids should be taught the joys of @mainediner in their classrooms
Since it’s as essential to America as the ole ballgame
07/02/20

Butter cookies
“But, her cookies…”
Great gal, perfect face
As a baker: pure disgrace
Sputter, “Look, please…”
09/01/20

Current photo of America’s collective face
Be better served throwing our heads in the fireplace
Cuz while they keep counting
The tension keeps mounting
So you’d best continue retreating into your safe space
11/04/20
(Primus’s Frizzle Fry album cover as a visual depiction of awaiting 2020 election results)

When I spotted this cassette of “Trans-Europe Express”
There was no way it wasn’t joining me for egress
These Germans certainly knew how to use a synthesizer
If they didn’t, bullets in the backs of their heads per The Kaiser
In retrospect, I could’ve just posted “Cool find!” but I digress
11/18/20

Unwilling to summon any snark
I’m posting this on a lark
Sporting my fresh to death cat shirt
With a beard to make the ladies squirt
Not my fault your girl Snapchatted me her birthmark
12/25/20
(in a Santa mask beside Sue’s tree on Christmas)

To celebrate the day honoring my birth
I visited one of the most peaceful places on Earth
It’s the @bookmill in bucolic Montague
Mention a Capulet and it’ll haunt your crew
Pictured is the haul sure to bring me endless mirth
07/05/21

If you’ve been wanting to read about Jenna Jameson
Be warned that there’s plenty of shame ’n’ bun
From stripping to meth to blasting strangers with a fire extinguisher
That’s not a euphemism but the details sure are sinister
Cliff’s Notes: Been there, done that, came a ton
08/12/21

As it regards the output of Paul Thomas Anderson
It’s no secret that I consider myself a fanderson
His latest moving picture is no exception
So in tribute to his exceptional direction
Tonight I’ll celebrate by eating the titular foodstuff — separated by an ampersand
12/31/21
(Licorice Pizza ticket stub)

Look at this delectable cheesecake square
Procured from an imaginary cheesecake fair
Now that’s something worthy of the aspirational
Where everywhere you look is sugary sensational
Time for another daydream in the cheesecake chair
01/02/22

For a rhymer, it’s tough to post about a chocolate orange
Because, as they say, nothing seems to rhyme with orange
Which I guess is no different than buying a chocolate purple
To know what that would entail you’d better ask INTERPLE
Stuck in a pigmentation pickle, purple you glad I didn’t say orange?
01/04/22

Today the @soul_fully_vegan food truck came to town
And their cheeseburger seen here is worthy of a crown
Accompanied by a bacon hot dog and cheese fries
If you ever have the chance to try this spread? Seize, guys
Patrons often drool so much in anticipation that each year, sad but true, a few drown
03/20/22

Yer lookin’ at enough clams to make Hugh Hefner jealous
And this plate of buttery goodness had me feeling overzealous
Anthony’s in Enfield is home to one of my prized paisan plates
With a commitment to freshness rivaling my alliterative updates
Grub generated by this great guinea grill pairs well with a screening of “Goodfellas”
05/18/22

Took my nana for a belated birthday lunch at Georgina’s
Where the dish I chose was named for the Taorminas
Sausage, broccoli, chili flake, penne, and cheese
In an olive oil sauce that’s brought men to their knees
Leaving one guy’s significant other to comment, “Oh, so that’s what you learned spending time at that whore Tina’s!”
06/01/22

In this neck of the woods, you’re apt to hear asparagus by another name
It’s called Hadley Grass because it’s the Massachusetts town’s claim to fame
Known as the world capital of making one’s urine smell delicious
Let’s just say that eating it deep fried with tomato jam was auspicious
Time for a round of “pin the spear on the donkey,” Hadley’s favorite parlor game
06/05/22

Stopped by Merrick Farm in Wilbraham
This white aubergine had me saying, “Wilbradamn”
Truth be told, I would never say such a thing
For no eggplant deserves any disrespecting
Guess it’s fair to call this post a Wilbrascam
08/21/22

Pizza made in upstate New York
So sizable you may need a fork
Can I squeeze a Z into every line
Can I stick a Z where the sun don’t shine
Off topic like alwayz, but them’z the breaks with this here dork
10/18/22

It’s true that songstress Tracy Chapman turned right back around
But give me one raisin to stay here and I’ll sit right back down
Give me a whole box and this shit’s off and poppin’
Put ’em in nets and the sugar rush’ll have me hoppin’
Appears there’s been some confusion as those damn homonyms abound
10/21/22

Was in the neighborhood so I grabbed a burger from historic @whitehut
Overheard one guy ask his friend what he’d give for seconds: “My right nut”
My slab of well-done beef with pickles and mayo sure hit the ole spot
The OB&C lusted after it and upped the ante: “I’d give my whole twat”
Can’t say it was a family-friendly visit, but hard to deny I enjoyed the light smut
12/18/22

Lentil soup with vegetables and harissa spice
My Italian neighbor Giuseppe said, “Dissa nice”
Meanwhile, a bot will immediately comment, “Post on @lentilonlyfans”
Which is tempting because I wanna see a gal model it on her lonely cans
For that take, another sick user will DM me a photo of his ass with the caption, “Kissa twice”
03/03/23

If you pussyfoot to this album, then I’ll say it: you can’t be my friend
I mean, how could one begin to pussyfoot before this classic does end?
A track named “Swastika Girls” wouldn’t give me even one pussytoe
When playing it in mixed company make sure nary a pussy does show
However, if you opt to pussyhand I can only say it may be a godsend
03/28/23
(Brian Eno & Robert Fripp’s (No Pussyfooting) LP)

@ricefruitfarm made my day with this seemingly simple spread
“We can make any flavor milkshake” means they are godhead
Opted for grape nut with a furter of the franklin variety
Sauerkraut, fried onions, and mustard earned it much piety
Although I found it odd that they described the hot dog as purebred
04/23/23

Took a Gallup poll
Returns said scallop roll
Buttery, toasty, and fresh
More fire than David Koresh
“Hey, pal!” “Sup?” “Full.”
05/26/23

Recently a former sheriff was arrested for jerking off in the Smyth’s parking lot
“Just AHF telling tall tales, as usual,” you’re thinking, but buddy, oh no I am not!
Hate to defend the pervert, but look at this vanilla soft serve with peanut butter dip
Take a lick or two of this treat and you’ll find your hand inching around your hip
By the time I hollowed out the cone, I had to take the little lady to a nearby cot
08/12/23

Those who regularly engage in it call unleashing a group of photos a dump
But when pinching out these Los Angeles snaps, no need to involve my rump
Maybe a jettison or a discharge? Or is this the perfect time to say it’s a deep-six?
Either way, I’ve yet to tell you a single fucking thing about any of these pics!
Well, last line of the limerick, so check the hashtags while swiping through this clump
09/14/23

“Geez, when will these AHF posts about his vacation ever be done?”
You’re in luck, non-liker, because this right here is the penultimate one
A layover led me to @wolfgangpuck’s spot at the @denairport B Gates
Lack of oyster crackers or not, this butternut squash soup earned glee, mates
So much glee, in fact, that I spent the flight home pondering if Wolfgang or Butternut would be the name of my unborn son
09/19/23

First time trying the unassuming-looking persimmon
If this thing were a book, you can bet I was skimmin’
Rumored to taste like many things including honey
All I was able to taste was the loss of my money
Feel like I got conned because this flam was flimmin’
10/02/23

Six days until the total solar eclipse
So allow me to give you a few pro tips
Putting these glasses on is step one
Then you’re done, so stare at the sun
Or the sliver you can see while the moon has it in its grips
04/02/24

I lost this sweatshirt at LAX
And some days it makes me vexed
Light and loose and comfy
To get it back I’d pay some fee
Look at me laughing inside it like I’ve just read a religious text
05/09/24

What Dick would often call Pat
“Nixie, I sure hate a fucking rat!”
He said in Watergate’s aftermath
As she offered pained laughter, wrath
Anyway: seltzer’s bubblier than a bathmat
05/12/24
(seltzer brand Nixie)

Many claim vanilla is the missionary sex of flavors
“Many? Like whom?” Best not to finger those wanton cravers
Back to the topic: this ice cream is really, really good
In fact, their new slogan is brazen: “Better than Hood!”
A company whose name has its own sexual connotations unless you’re not into shavers
05/21/24

I like my women like I like my Starburst — all pink
“You’re always so filthy,” the gals must think
Hey, just trying to set expectations
Whether it’s candy or sexual relations
Edit: I like my women like I like my Starburst — gelatinous, rubbery, and to not blink
05/29/24

Made a new pal-ico
With this little calico
Don’t mind the vacuum in back’uh me
She purred, “If it attacks, I flee”
It didn’t, which was good for morale-ico
07/01/24

Some people are saying I’m braver than William Wallace
I mean, can you believe these fuckers have the gall-ace?
Is concluding a birthday with a Denny’s Cobb salad upsetting?
Doubt me, but I cleaned the whole plate without any regretting
This shit slapped no cap I am the eggman I am the walrus
07/11/24

@silkcitycoffee makes a MEAN coconut cream cookie, natch
But I don’t mean mean in the way you think I do, at least not this batch
“Hey, you fuckin’ bitch, you really gonna eat me?” is what I thought I heard
“What’s that?” “Don’t play stupid — put me down now, ya shithead nerd!”
Opted for a friendly tree elf instead, proof that it’s not always best to cook from scratch
07/26/24

Stopped by my mother’s for a meal in celebration of her garden
Since she’s in her Tomato Era, those fruits did some bombardin’
Fresh sauce with fresh basil on fresh eggplant parmigiana
Ate it last night, ate it today, will eat it again mañana
Sure, my perspiration has now turned red, for which I must beg your pardon
08/15/24

It had been 20 years since seeing my London resident advisor
Like old times, he spoke in mediæval English like a colonizer
The restaurant wasn’t serving booze — a blow to dependence
But the reunion was a success in spite of limited attendance
Even if everyone was stunned that my car started without a breathalyzer
09/22/24

Out in the Mountain states, they’re big on huckleberry
Since licorice is my favorite candy, gave ’em a suckleberry
Kinda like blueberry mixed with a bit of grape
The type-uh bite you need in a barren landscape
“What does that mean?” “Just try one if you give a fuckleberry!”
10/04/24

Finally fulfilled a lifelong dream: Caesar salad with anchovies
I prefer to call it a Julius salad — you say, “Man, no, geez!”
The seasonal four cheese pizza was a no-brainer
Curious about what it was? Let me give an explainer
Stay with me: it was cheese and cheese and cheese and cheese
11/12/24

Sat at the counter eating this fine spread beside a stranger named Nelly
Mentioned how I lived alone with no pets or kids while I shoved this in my belly
“What’s your sign?” she asked before learning I am, no pun intended, a Cancer
“I knew it, nurturing just like my daughter,” she said after I provided my answer
Until I reminded her of what I’d just said and showed her my tattoo of Machiavelli
11/14/24

Swag level eleven
Your eyes? Died and went to heaven
Prison visit outfit on International Men’s Day
Back hurts from carrying all you dudes, give me BENGAY
“You been gay alright, always dropping the soap at seven!”
11/19/24

Still the greatest chips in history
Don’t let ’em remain a mystery
I mean, that’s pure disrespect
Going forth you gotta come correct
Like I did after feeding ’em to your sister, G
12/05/24

Sucking on an ube popsicle
A purple yam, cream of the cropsicle
Got it from the Korean grocery store
Where I tend to be an impulse buying whore
Eat one with each hand if you’re amphibious — oops, that’s a malapropsicle
12/18/24

Where else can you be greeted before walking in the door?
Where the owner leaves the register to give you a hug on the floor
You already know @auntiecathieskitchen is pulling out all the stops
When asked how the chicken and waffles were, said I’d shout from the rooftops
Support your local butcher and baker, but the candlestick maker can return to reenactments of the Civil War
01/03/25

Yellow cake, hold the uranium
Yellow cake straight to my cranium
Flavored with some pineapple
Claim a slice isn’t mine? Grapple
Yellow cake straight off the chain-ium
01/14/25

Twenty-nine years today without this guy
Miss him every day, not gonna lie
So glad he turned me onto the newspaper as a boy
Although he never paid me for helping deliver it in his employ
Lesson learned, as I continue keeping him alive till I get my piece of the pie
01/17/25

Just the baby boy being entertained by the homey @anthonyparker
Said he wanted to open a ranch with cats, save ’em like Bob Barker
The kicker was him also wanting to save pornstars — had me cryin’
Especially after he said, “Sheeeeit, cracker, I ain’t lyin’!”
Until two walked by and offered to save us, a real Noah’s Arker
01/30/25

Italian-Americans: a study
“YOU’Z WHO? YER BUDDY?!”
That’s it, that’s the joke
Cultural pride gets a poke
And now I swim with oddly pluralized marine life, bloody
02/20/25
(a can of yuzu mandarin seltzer)

Another pizza from where the buffalo roam
Wait, they’re just named after it but don’t call it home?
Are the buffalo actually afraid of their roots?
“Bring the buffalo back to Buffalo” emblazoned on parachutes
As for the pizza, well, madam, I’m Adam, which is a palindrome
03/15/25

Look here, a faux Cozzie
When in reality it’s fugazi
A drink without the drank
But this can sure don’t stank
No alcohol is best since the last time I drank Cosmos I sent so many incriminating emails my friends started calling me Ben Ghazi
04/23/25
(Spindrift’s Cosnopolitan seltzer)

Zucchini, linguine, baby bellas, and bok choy
With basil, cashews, and soy, food for the hoi polloi
Sidebar: Zucchini Linguine would absolutely be my alias as a famous person when I was traveling
I’d have a public episode at a Ramada and an employee would say, “Zucchini Linguine’s unraveling!”
Until the police arrived and said, “What’s your real name, cowboy?”
07/25/25

There’s no denying these’re crunchy and chewy
Your girl even says they’re munchy and gooey
I mean, how convenient is that right there, my dear reader?
Perfect rhymes for the palate of your biggest cheerleader!
Now she just said, “Hand me a scrunchie” and blew me
09/09/25
(Haribo Berries)

A study: the danish
You say, “A gay knish”
Frosted and fruity
Sure, a bit snooty
But hey, she’s a real dish
09/25/25

Got a hot tip to check out Manna House in Greenfield
A blind man saw after tasting this cuisine, healed
Fine, that’s just some run-of-the-mill recency bias doubling as hyperbole
But the kimchi & pork with white rice will light up your ass like a gerbil, see
“Buddy, you know people can read this, right?” To my bullshit they’re keen, steeled
11/16/25

“Hamnet”: a critical study
“You can’t put ham in Annette!” vs. Sure you can, buddy
Hard to believe the depths of her depravity
Cured or uncured, just shove it in her cavity
As for the film, best one-word review: cruddy
12/10/25

All you need to see is the wrapper
Know it’ll be a good time on the crapper
Type of sandwich that makes you pause
And get ready to give it a round of applause
I call that gonorrhea, they call it the clapper
12/20/25

Ginger sesame soy sauce is soaking these here noodles
With air-fried crispy tofu and corn that don’t intrudles
Sprinkle a little parsley on top and best get to noshin’
Serve it against Bobby Flay and bet he’ll sweat, no joshin’
That’s the haps on that — it sure was dandy, my yankee doodles
02/05/26

Bidwell Tavern’s signature 30-piece chicken wing dinner
Served with a side of colitis for those who wanna be thinner
Sesame garlic pepper, mustard horseradish, and sweet chili
With guns on the wall near a placard: “Chicken can’t kill me!”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I say after ordering another 30 then pace the parking lot smoking a pinner
02/22/26