Mon Dieu! Jesus drives the demons into les cochons. Porquoi?

By Monsieur Pas de Merde, Michael Stevenson

“Now there was a herd of many pigs feeding at a distance from them. And the demons begged Him, saying, “If You are going to cast us out, send us into the herd of pigs.” And Jesus said to them, “Go!” And they came out and went into the pigs; and behold, the whole herd rushed down the steep bank into the sea and drowned in the waters.” (Matthew 8:28-33)

Image result for jesus drives demons into swine

Two thoughts about this:

First, why did Jesus have to send the demons into the poor little piggies? They didn’t do anything wrong. I love pigs.

Second, imagine the poor pig farmer the next day: “Who the hell drowned all my piggies? What is my family gonna do for money this year? I’m ruined!”

So – I think Jesus really messed up here. Uncharacteristically.

Say Amen, somebody

No anything? Say it ain’t so, Joe

By Michael Stevenson

Trump just said if Joe Biden is elected president, there will be “no anything.” Well, that sure doesn’t sound like fun! Should I still vote Biden? Hell … now I’m not so sure!

I do not want “no anything” because then there would be no dark roast coffee, no scotch, no Celtics basketball, no Turner Classic Movies, no chameleons, no music festivals, no used record shops, no Zaz, no mom, no New Orleans, no great new Keen™ sandals that I just got, no friends in Paris, no October ocean swims, no Everly Bothers, Coen Brothers, Dardenne Brothers, Avett Brothers, soul brothers, no Brother Can You Spare a Dime? No sisters, no Sister Barbara, R.S.M.

No angels

No angels, no devils, no pesto, no Châteauneuf-du-Pape, no oysters, no imitating Aunt Mary’s dialect, no Provence, no NPR, no Tanglewood, no biking, hiking, swimming or orgasmic hayfever sneezing.

No finding money. No new friends. No old friends. No Julie Harris as “Abra” in East of Eden, no saying “No!”, no saying “I don’t know”, no dogs, no Wooly Mammoths who may be cloned, no Spring crocus, no bird’s nest, no grilled NY sirloin, no New York, no Vonnegut, no poetry, no Ireland, no windy days, rainy days, no Rainy Days And Mondays Always Get Me Down, no Cheerios, no cheer, no Terry Gross, no milk coming out of laughing children’s noses, no St. Patrick’s Day, no corned beef, no Francis Cabrel, no saying “Oui!”
But I can’t vote Trump. Must convince Biden this NO ANYTHING agenda will not work. I’ve got work to do.

Big Tech needs to step up. But instead we get “Mwa-Mwa-Mwa”

By Michael Stevenson, aka Monsieur Pas de Merde

The chief executive officers of Amazon, Apple, Google and Facebook sat before congress yesterday. Four white guys with unimaginable wealth. I wanted congress to inform them of the new “Big Tech Patriot Emergency Relief Bill” – informing them that, TFN, all their profits after 1 Billion will now be taxed at 99.5 percent. That revenue stream would EASILY replace the expiring Covid Relief package that we all pay for. But instead of my “Big Tech Patriot Emergency Relief Bill” – these creeps just blathered on like the teacher in Peanuts cartoons. Cue the trombone: “Mwa-Mwa-Mwa”

Roller Derby Names. What’s yours?

by Monsieur Pas de Merde

During this endless lockdown due to Covid-19, Monsieur Pas de Merde has decided to form a Woman’s Roller Derby league – much like the one in the movie Kasas City Bomber, starring Raquel Welch.

Here are several names I plan to use for the lucky gals who participate:

  • Margaret Thrasher
  • Demolicious
  • Baby Ruthless
  • Sybyl Disobedeience
  • Eve L. Stepmother
  • Georgia O’Grief
  • Ginger Smack
  • Patty de Merde

What is your Roller Derby name? We’d like to know, so we can steal it.

Leave Me Alone

By: Michael Stevenson | Pas de Merde

At our family dinner at my sister’s, we sang the single most horrible song of the Seventies, which is Helen Reddy’s “Ruby Red Dress” – a singalong about a homeless woman who talks to herself and just wants to be left alone, due to the trauma she experienced as a younger woman.
Sing along, if you wish:

“Big ole ruby red dress wanders round the town
Talkin’ to herself now, sometimes sitten down
Don’t you get too close now, ruby runs away
Poor ole ruby red dress born on a sorry day
I can hear her say
Leave me alone, won’t you leave me alone
Please leave me alone now, leave me alone
Leave me alone, please leave me alone, yes leave me
Leave me alone won’t you leave me alone

Warm beer workout

By Michael Stevenson

I just came from the gym and had a great workout. Somehow, in just one hour I lost seven pounds and became really muscular. But two other things happened! I noticed my treadmill had this wonderful aroma! It took me a few seconds before I deduced it was that happy,hoppy smell of warm beer – like the smell in a seedy local bar at 7am with the sun pouring in from a window directly on last night’s half-empty can of Schlitz! I LOVE that smell! Then I thought, “Hmmm, am I smelling the beer-sweat of the last mick who was on this treadmill?” That would be ok, I guess. Then I thought, “Well, I myself might exude this hoppy beer-sweat much of the time.”

So, I must smell pretty good to some people and pretty bad to other people.

The other thing was this: I was listening to my IPod while running on the beer-scented treadmill and the great Nina Simone was singing “To Love Somebody” – and Nina gender-corrects that powerful verse “I’m a man! Can’t you see that I am?” to “I’m a woman! Can’t you see that I am!” … and I was singing that part (“I’m a woman! Can’t you see that I am?”) loud enough that the guy next to me looked at me kinda funny and left.

Or maybe he just doesn’t like the smell of warm beer.