Munson's First Love

The best laid plans of mice and men. Indeed. Our friend Munson has taken this quote one step further. After twenty-five unsuccessful years with even the ugliest of ladies, Munson has created his unique solution. Out of a cracked-out grandfather clock and household fern Munson put together a face. Numbers do tattoo to her porcelain cheeks, and every hour she may inexplicitly chime into the conversation but this lady of appliances is the best our smelly-bellied freak has ever done. Munson used broken wooden chair legs to allow her to walk and reach. Sharpened pencils act as ten yellow # 2 fingers. Two tennis balls act as ample breast (stay in-bounds Munson). As for her pee-pee Munson put a thimble for his ever so small wee-wee. The household lady looks wonderful in Munson's mother's muumuu. Catch the couple on Sunday mornings holding hands in the sun filled park, or watch Munson sneak a kiss on her cheek at the local theater. Oh Munson, at last true love exists for even you.

Robot Dog

I love my Robot Dog
He likes to bark and beep
beep... beep... beep...
He eats metal food.
He chews on metal bone.
He wags his metal tail.
beep... beep... beep...

Robot Dog
Look at you,
Catching balls in outer space
Doing back flips off of stars
Silver, shiny
beep... beep... beep...

Oh, Robot Dog
Where have you gone?
Chasing cats on robot worlds?
Use your jet-pack,
Come back home
Robot Dog it's you and me.

portrait of munson

you all may be wondering what munson looks like,  heed no further,  his family's photographer Diane Arbus    sent us this photograph of him:

Munson Sleeps with Live Chickens

Munson is a creature that lives under a bridge spattered with bat poo in that hippie stronghold called Austin. He has a blog called bustered.vox.com. It sucks. The purpose of his blog is to attract intelligent internet using chickens to come mate with him so he can sit on their eggs as they go shopping for chicken shoes and such. Munson should be arrested but somehow escapes the authorities (likely because the lives in that horrid city). In any event, THE BLOG WARS HAVE BEGUN!!! DEATH TO MUNSON!!!

Throwing Up Sucks and So Do You

With one hand on my hip and the other holding the towel rack I look into the porcelain bowl. Occasionally the smooth water bounces up and down from a stream of drool descending from my lips. My dog looks at me quizzically. I want to throw something at him, or at least yell at how annoying he is at this moment, but I can’t move. It is about to happen. Burp. Boom. Red chunks plop into the toilet. Most of them anyways. Some bits of half-digested food remain stuck in the back of my throat. They are gross. I try to clear them out. Oh, shit, here it goes again. What a way to spend a Sunday night.

Throwing up sucks. But more to the point. You Suck. Yes you! That is every citizen of Dallas who contributed to giving me a stomach virus. That is all you people everywhere who don’t cover your mouth when you sneeze and wipe your hands with poo. You are cause of my misery and there will be revenge. Watch your back! Tony Romo will strike you down.

Best College Team in Texas

Yea thats right its halloween time.

Tony Romo Saves the World

Tony Romo has a power. On the football field the magical Mexican’s power is obvious. He avoids rushers like a matador, attacks defenses like Santa Ana, and creates plays like Tennessee Williams. While the last simile is dumb, it speaks to the larger point. Romo’s powers are not limited to the football field. The grinning great one has the power to change the world.

My advise to you, gentle reader, is to stop praying to Jesus. Save that ink and envelope used in a letter to Santa. Put down your daily horoscope. Only one person has the power to give you want you want. Tony Romo. If in the next few weeks citizens rejoice in world peace, you win the lottery, or your worst enemy dies in a humiliating manner, you will know why. Tony Romo saved your world.

The Wizard Bums

The bum is awaking from a Schlitz slumber. A striped thermos stands upright. Last nights soup stains are dry. He clutches his walking stick. He will need it. Enemies have found him under this bridge before. “Look,” the bum says, staring at a dark corner of the underpass. The evil manifestations of his mind are out again. The bright yellow eyes of a magical wolf look down at him. Fangs are white and large. The bum lifts his stick that glows and sparkles as it morphs into a sorcerer’s baton. The psychic revolution has begun.

In much the same way, The Wizard Bums spawned from a psychic revolution. Formed by three hip-urban-dwellers living in N.Y., L.A. and Dallas, The Wizard Bums possess the power to cut through the shadowy cloak of modern society to shed light and truth. Join us as we discus sports, books, Hattrick, ninjas, art, pirates, politics, music and anything else we feel like writing about. But beware, the wolf’s stare is strong and sticks don’t always morph when needed.