On Bridal Showers

On Bridal Showers
Unless one works as a professional stripper, one should avoid attendance of the Bridal Shower if at all possible. The company of squealing women pretending to enjoy the prospect of another’s blighted plan for marriage is a sure path to despair. If one must attend, better to come pre-fortified with strong drink or the tranquilizer of one’s choice.

When choosing a gift, consider the bride carefully. While you may enjoy the marital aid with the choice of three speeds and five clever configurations, she may be mortified, particularly over such seemingly minor details as color and girth. Like breakfast eggs, the preferences in one’s sex toys are painfully particular to the individual. Unless mortification is one’s aim, a more decorous choice might be something silky only one size too small with a discrete return tag at the bottom of the box.

While at the event, avoid all mention of your personally experienced missteps of the groom’s sexual history. It is her bed, and now she will have to lay in it. Instead smile through whatever inane choices the bride plans for the wedding and honeymoon, and spend that time considering a good excuse to avoid becoming a bridesmaid. In a pinch, the whispered confession of a highly contagious skin disease should do the trick.

- From A Vile Old Queen’s Guide To Etiquette And Proper Living

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On Handbags

On Handbags

The scale of one’s handbag should be inversely proportional to the accomplishments of one’s life goals. If you heft an ninety-pound sack filled with the detritus of your sad life it is probably needlessly swollen by your empty intentions. 

Consider the heiress, going out for the evening with a bag so small she may only squeeze in a credit card, a tube of lip gloss, and a single evening’s stash of drugs. In a pinch she may slip the tiny clutch into a crevice of her own body, (not advised when the bag is jeweled).

Unless one is smuggling endangered animals, or shoplifting mink coats, an overly large bag may be indicative of a serious mental condition. If you need an entire passenger seat of a vehicle to carry your purse, you should consider seeking professional help.

Men who carry a handbag should be cautioned that, in America, a masculine and subdued palette and workmanlike construction is preferable to glossy or ‘fun’ materials and bright colors. In Italy, however, the men have more flamboyant purses than the women. This is not to be confused with homosexuality, as straight Italian men have been known to wear Capri slacks.

- From AVile OldQueen’s GuideTo Etiquette And Proper Living
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On The Passive Regressive Voice

On the Passive Regressive Voice

The Passive Regressive Voice is one which all of us know intuitively, but few really understand. It is the particular voice most people use when they encounter small babies and warm-blooded pets. It is characterized by a sing-song cadence, an excessive amount of nonsense words, and what can best be described as cooing.

Avoid the use of the Passive Regressive Voice at all times. To the outsider, it indicates one has suffered a stroke, or perhaps a congenital brain defect. To the subject of the Voice, it indicates that you can be seduced by something as simple as a batting doe-eye smile or the wagging of a tail. It is indecent to teach babies and pets that the world will unfold to their whims, and debilitating to one’s reputation to be seen as so pliant.

Both doting parents and pet owners who use the Passive Regressive Voice raise serious questions on the legitimacy of their mental stability and prowess. Strangers who use the Voice are to be shunned on principle. A Vile Old Queen suggests avoiding both infants and companion animals that one does not consider a blood relation, or does not own. If one must encounter such diminutive creatures, merely use a weak smile and nod, then turn away.

- From A Vile OldQueen’s GuideTo Etiquette And Proper Living
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On Minding your P’s and Q’s

On Minding your P’s and Q’s

Many people erroneously believe that the Phrase ‘Mind you P’s and Q’s’ instructs one to "mind your manners," or  "mind your language," or "be on your best behavior.” All of these ideas are absolutely wrong and utterly miss the very important point.

Mind your P’s and Q’s instructs one on the necessity of paying all heed and deference to the two twin pillars of every community worth being part of; Princesses and Queens.

Princesses by their nature, embody all that is worthwhile in glamour and taste. Ignoring the advice or command of a Princess can result in low debasement of one’s social position, and banishment from the best parties.

Queens, however, are the ultimate authority of everything and everyone. They are the key gatekeepers of all cultural endeavors, maintain the aesthetics of all the best nations, and are never to be ignored. While crossing a Princess can cost one one’s social standing and position, crossing a Queen can result in actual physical harm, ranging from merely having one’s wig tossed aside, to actual beheading.

No one is more respected and feared than a Queen, with the exception of a Nun. No one has ever successfully crossed a Nun, as they always win.

While Queens are often treacherously in disguise, fortunately all Nuns wear a simple symbolic emblem around their neck to warn everyone that they must never be crossed.

- From - A Vile Old Queen’s Guide To Etiquette And Proper Living
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Occupy Wall Street Fails to Impress Baby Boomers

Occupy Wall Street Fails to Impress Baby Boomers - "At least we had better music at Woodstock."


Cheney Receives Heart Transplant From Short Round

Cheney Receives Heart Transplant


At 71 years of age, former Vice President Dick Cheney received a full organ heart transplant from his unwilling eleven-year old Chinese Sherpa Short Round, at the Experimental Hospital of Dark Side Medicine. Head Cardiac Surgeon and High Priest Mola Ram says the American dignitary and dedicated supplicant to the War Goddess Kali is in good spirits and relatively good health. Brief services for Short Round were held at a hidden location under the Temple of Doom. Officials at the International Criminal Court were overjoyed to hear that now they had a possible ten more years to bring War Crime charges against Cheney.

In related news, former President Jimmy Carter is asking The Wizard for a transplant of courage, and former President George W. Bush is requesting a brain. Emerald City Officials would not comment on their relative positions on the Organ Donor Lists, but indicated that Carter’s transplant would certainly be easier, as his soul is so much wider than Bush’s skull. 


Supreme Court Rules Democratic Representational Government Unconstitutional

Supreme Court Rules Democratic Representational Government Unconstitutional


In a stunning move by the Supreme Court today, the nation's highest judicial body ruled that democratically elected representational government was unconstitutional. The 5 to 4 vote Majority vote sited strict originalist interpretation to the founding father's document, to rule that all forms of representational government practiced in the last 200 years in the United States were "At odds with the original intent of the Constitution".

In their ruling of "Rich Greedy Bastards Vs. The Population of the United States", the Supreme Court threw out a long history of civil liberty advancements for all peoples of non-Caucasian descent and for all women. Instead, the court ruled, government can only represent white men with land holdings.

The GOP declared the victory one of "substantial moral authority," and declared that the Republican Party would be 'purged' of all non-white, non-male members. In addition, the GOP declared they would also remove non-Christian members from their political party, 'for good measure.'

While elected officials throughout the majority of Southern and Mid-Western States seemed overjoyed at the ruling, formerly serving U.S. officials on both the East and West Coast, as well as previously elected officials in most major cities, were stunned and outraged by their immediate disenfranchisement and loss of jobs.

"They just don't get it," formerly democratically elected President Barack Obama said, in a clipped interview before he was bodily escorted out of the White House. "Most of these people in the GOP don't have any land either!"

Political Analysts believe that the Supreme Court decision was influenced in large part by The Greedy Quadrillionaire Super-Pac For American Prosperity And White Hegemony who spent over Eight-Hundred-Billion dollars in their media blitz campaign.

In related news, former Supreme Court Judge Clarence Thomas finally broke his six-year silence on the bench, when the enormity of what he had voted for finally became clear, and he said, "Oh Shit."

From - A Vile Old Queen’s Guide To Etiquette And Proper Living


The National Big Murder Show

This Week In Review:

Psycho-Con and The National Big Murder Show

Champions of the recent national rise in hatred toward our government inevitably support their convictions with examples of the corruption at every level of leadership; local, regional, and national. To suspect less of government might be naive. One must recall that in every level of government there exists not only demagogues and greedy liars, but personal heroics, selfless acts, and diligence for the greater good. Thankfully, those countless quiet stories of justice and fortitude are, much to our mutual pleasure, never told. 

Instead we have The Golden Book of One Hundred Serial Killers, for ages 8+., complete with accompanying sticker sets of victims. For the younger audience, My Favorite Psychos Coloring Book, allows even the most spatially challenged toddler’s hands to produce works leaden with content. While the segue from political hardball to mass murder has historically been a short walk, one can not escape the recent ruling in favor of Jack and Jill and The Bucket of Blood as a primary cause for collective anxieties now so feverishly embraced by the nation.

At Psycho-Con, and it’s demographic rival, The National Big Murder Show, political mass murder is the new crowd favorite. Lines at the new Stalin stimulation games were long, and by necessity, tortuous. The Ghengis Kahn licensed school supplies were top movers, and even the perennially successful Charles Manson figurines were overshadowed by the upstart fever over the newly released Covert Black Ops Trading Cards, and remotely controlled Predator Drone Action Toys.

Manny Tuckhaven, a seasoned mass murderer collector (M&M in the trade), believes the new resurgence in political mass murder is a welcome break from the more traditional obsessions with low-volume insane criminals, or LVIC. "The LVICs will always be a part of the American Dream, but the new kids are bringing all those classics out of retirement, like Goebbels and Napolean and Panama. With support like this, I’m sure we'll see some fresh blood in the arena in no time.”

The National Big Murder Show is at the Convention Center now through the end of the Month. Free admission for documented victims of collateral damage.


On Speaking French

On Speaking French

An American in France, and especially Paris, is advised to make an effort to speak the language, lest one find themselves under the harsh glare of the French citizen, hardened against understanding your simple pleas for a meal that isn't tripe. An earnest smile can not bridge this divide, as the French regard a smile as suspect of lunacy or idiocy, both of which - in the French mind - the American is prone.

But most cannot master those tortured vowels with an American jaw. Even worse, those who have suffered long years listening to recordings of the squealing voice of the female French speaker and the Barry White tones of the male, have become somewhat pickled into the false sense that all French woman's registers are of angelic sopranos, and all French men speak the deepest base. This is not the case, even in Paris; the most beautiful city in the world that never, ever changes, despite the best efforts of the Pompidou. 

I wish to share a special skill I have developed to solve this conundrum. First, one must master the smallest bit of French comprehension in hearing, for no other reason that to avoid being run down by their curiously quiet trains and ambulances. The next is to learn to read the simplest menu French, as one must by all means, however adventurous one is at home, avoid ordering the tripe. I once made the mistake of asking an indulgent waiter what the Tripe a L'Andulisian was like, and was told, in the cold formality of all French waiters, that "The French love it." I misunderstood the emphasis, thinking he meant, "The French love it," and thus you will too, when in fact he meant "The French love it," but you will throw-up. 

Master these two small skills, but restrain oneself from speaking the tongue, which is a foolhardy endeavor prone to failure, even for the Canadians of Quebec. Instead, substitute a special pidgin of sincere effort and utter defeat. For example, say, "Je parle français très mal à la tête” in exaggerated and self-deprecating tones, to indicate that "I speak French very badly," by saying "I speak French with a very bad headache.” The Parisian will answer in flawless English, and thus signify to you both their perfect mastery of all things and your utter failure, and thus leaves them disdainfully self-satisfied, the most natural state for a Parisian. 

Employing this strategy makes the French coyly pliant to your need to find a bathroom that won't fold itself up to clean itself while you are still inside, or to a locate Metro stop where one doesn't have to walk up thirty-five floors of the most picturesque tiled spiral staircase you have ever cursed at in the ripest Anglo Saxonism one can muster.

From - A Vile Old Queen’s Guide To Etiquette And Proper Living 

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Seven in One Blow

Seven in One Blow

Jack picks up a John
his beanstalk proud
and hung.
"Let's play giant killer"
he laughs
and watches as the fat prole
slides down his pole.
Nimble and quick
his candlestick.

Jack eats magic beans
which give him stamina
for the long haul,
for the golden goose that lays
his golden eggs,
for the fairy that sings
his supper;
an operetta, a libretto,
a fellatio.

Jack has his head in the clouds,
a hero of no small talent,
stronger than ten men
in the beauty contest.
Precious as a pea,
humble as the blood
of an Englishman.
The fat of the land
a mosaic at his feet,
beneath a carpet of clouds.

Who climbs down with Jack
to goose-down pillows
and golden sheets?
What ungainly ogre
will eat him up?
His flesh so sweet,
a succulent morsel
sucked dry as rusk.

Here lies Jack,
all hollow eyed,
sweet puss in boots.
His life a rootless
climbing vine.
Thick stemmed, broad leaved,
fakir's rope
to nowhere.


The Mark

A few choice words about discovering bird guano on your shirt while standing in front of the ‘Sale!’ shoes that drew you into that damn shop in the first place, being the only thing there that might fit from among the feverish men’s merchandise stretched taut over mannequin bellies and bulges. Discovering it there on your shirt, sudden and close, below your right cheek, close to your neck, in a blind spot. There! Guano, brown and chunky. Then imagining for a moment it was the shopkeeper’s spittle, left when he noted your failed sneakers, fingers reaching to check your backpack.  Nothing here for you!” his face read - in style or in size, but perhaps he was just stunned by the bird crap, seemingly dropped only seconds ago. Or maybe it was, more horribly, the jettisoned last squirt of lunch’s tamale. Lingering there for hours, during that long crowded bus ride, vivid against the white shirt. And there, upon discovery, the mess wiped from hand to jeans to eye again, in sudden shame and revulsion. The stain left behind even more loathsome. A warning. A curse. Bad luck. Bad manners. The second bus trip spent wondering which.  

Here’s the advice. Use a spot remover. Wash cold. If it doesn’t come out, you know.            


The Ugly Duckling

The Ugly Duckling

Pity the ogre
with his foul breath,
his loathsome face.
Spinning in shame and ridicule,
turning pride into hate.
He hears the laughter
in the playground.
He hears the taunting
in the gym.

Pity the hag
with the crooked nose
and the warty chin.
Never getting a date for the prom,
shutting her quiet dreams in.
She hears the whispers
behind the hands,
the snickers beneath
the breath.

Pity the ugly
but not too hard -
we all will walk that path in time.
If while brat, adult,
or toothless crone,
we’ll all lose beauty
and stand alone.

Relish the circles
that let you in.
The group that mirrors
your own shortcomings.
There you’ll shine
like matching plates.
The stacking fit
of like with like.

For in the end
we’ll lie down to
an open gash
of wormy earth.
Our face dissolved,
all equalized
to common bones
and common dust.

A water fowl chick alone
was adopted by a mother duck,
who overlooked his funny shape
and gave him sanctuary.

He was taunted by
the other ducklings
as only siblings can
to the outsider,
the new kid,
the odd one out.

They called him ugly big head,
flat foot, turd face, snot beak.
And so a monster
looked back at him
when he peered into
the waters deep.

He cried and cawed
and begged and bargained
and struggled to fit in.
But nastier the others grew
to the new ugly duckling.

A year passed by in aching pain.
A childhood gone,
like countless others before and since.
Wishing he had never left the egg.
Envying his brother’s molts.

And then one day
a child called “Look!”
“Look at the beautiful swan!”
And the bird looked down
to an odd reflection
of what couldn’t be himself!

No big-headed duck,
no mis-colored misfit,
no fat waterfowl,
but an elegant swan,
all curving neck and wings,

With the haughty trumpet
of those who know, at last,
their own sweet vindication,
he left the pond for good.

Never looking back
to the ducklings’ cruelty,
to the spite and misery,
to the mother duck’s
lukewarm embrace.
His background now embarrassing,
only his beauty would count.

He joined the bird world royalty.
Swimming in country club lagoons.
Bathing behind a mask of pride,
so terrified someone would find
the ugly duckling deep inside.

So he preened his white feathers
and worried about
the thickness of his down.
He stretched his slender neck
thinking it was never
quite long enough.

And he entertained the other swans
with tales of his modest childhood
and all his self-wrought woe.
They laughed politely
at his charming farce
and that silly, awful
he’d let slip
now and again.

And in the fall he was selected
as the most beautiful specimen
at a rich man’s estate.
So subsequently changed
once more,
into a paté

- From Eating the Child Within by Jason Messinger
Eating The Child Within for KINDLE  
Eating The Child Within - PRINT Edition




Ghosts are detected only
by the misdirection
of their deeds;
the vase falling
in an empty room,
the creak in the attic floor,
the silence where speech
used to be.

There is a ghost that lives
on the tip of my tongue,
drawing words from my throat
like a fisherman.
Some explode, too delicate
for the change in pressure.
Others get crushed
into dust and deceit.

Who decided loneliness
is such a coveted point of view?
How can I say I’m sorry
when you can’t even see
that I’m gone?

from "Storytelling" by Jason Messinger


Near The Big Chakra

Near The Big Chakra

How about
only those
with a uterus
get to decide
what happens
inside it?