Well. So the list of people — or things — I am currently in love with continues to grow. First, there’s MB, always MB. Then there’s Michael Paulus. Then there’s my longtime girl crush on Amy Grant. Then there’s the the voice and the milkshake line.
And now …. there’s Greg Ames. I heart him. So much. I just cannot stop reading these and laughing.
Read.
Three Poems by Greg Ames
Bathing Ed Asner
I snatched the rubber duck
from his hairy, wet fist
and in a cruel voice
instructed him to quit
fooling and to sit down
dammit in the tub
“But I didn’t ask for your help,”
Asner whined, sulked, and slapped
the murky water with his puckered palms.
“Well, that’s pretty much beside
the point, isn’t it?” I said.
“I’m here now, helping you, so stop
making trouble for me, Lou Grant.”
“Don’t call me that!” he said.
“Well, then, lift up your arms,”
I whispered in his ear,
“and let’s swab out those pits.”
Vigil
I sat down on the toilet lid
crossed my muddy boots
on the edge of the tub.
“It was only a television program,”
he said. “It was only fiction. You know,
make-believe?”
“Don’t play the innocent,”
I warned him. “It doesn’t become you.”
“How much money do you want?”
“How dare you,” I said
and averted my eyes.
“You should consider getting
these tiles regrouted.”
“I don’t understand,” he said,
shivering in the tepid bath water.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want? Are you prepared
to give me what I want, Lou Grant?”
“Anything,” he said. “Yes. Anything.”
“Put this on,” I said.
Ups & Downs
Blue bathrobe billowing out behind him,
Asner clutched the rusted metal handle
of the seesaw we were riding in the park.
“Not so fast!” he thundered. “I’m getting dizzy.”
Now perched high above him, I could
see clear across the playground
to the tennis courts.
“How’s your net game, Lou?”
I said savagely.
Bare legs splayed over splintered green wood,
a yellow isosceles of Speedo thong
visible beneath his sagging paunch,
Asner spat filthy words down at me,
up at me, and down at me.
Eyes wild, he gripped the rusted handle like a frightened child.
“Cut it out,” he wheezed. “I said not so fast!”
For months I had been doing squat thrusts
in my basement for this very purpose.
My thighs were huge and astonishing.
Asner howled as the speed increased.
“Hold on tight, Lou Grant,” I shouted,
and bent my legs for a final
triumphant push.
Howdy!
I’ll try again…
I had left a message here:
http://palepage.com/?p=574
but it kept on disappearing.
The comment had tied in with the last comment here:
http://palepage.com/?p=2005#comments
Anyways, I just popped in to say I was honoured that you selected quotes from Hoff reviews a friend and I wrote four years ago for inclusion in your blog.
Uhm, Ricardo or Rich —
You’ve left several comments and they’ve gone into moderation because of all the links. I’m sure if you go down to the post #2005, you’ll find that your comment was approved. Although, if I’d been paying attention, I would have deleted it because it has nothing to do with the post that was written. Just a blog etiquette thing. Try to keep to the topic at hand. Your comment here has nothing to do with the poems posted. If you wanted to thank me for mentioning your Hoff review, you could have emailed me. Address is right there in the side bar.
I edited this comment down a great deal — as I’m sure you can see. Here’s why:
There’s no need to re-quote your entire Hasselhoff missive here on my blog — recounting in painful detail which part you wrote, which part your friend wrote. It’s showboating and this is MY blog. If that’s a hobby of yours — writing satirical reviews — start your own blog and post them there. My blog is not the place.
Also, you included a link to yet another review of yours — this time for Bic pens. Again, my blog. And I don’t do that. Please, no more links to your Bic pen review, okay? You’ve left at least two.
the good part: this will make me chuckle evilly for days at random and inappropriate moments.
the bad part: I may never give the grandson a bath again,
thanks to the mental visual. He is an adorable little brown berry of handsome toddler, nothing like E. Asner. Such is the power of these poems.
You find the best stuff!
Sal — I know; I just keep giggling about it at random moments.
LOLOLOLOLOLOL whatthehell? LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
Oh man!
How on earth did you find these?
I love them, and yet I am oddly repulsed at the same time.
Let’s swab out those pits? Squat thrusts… for this very purpose?
It’s so beautifully weird.
Missy — I know! Beautifully weird! I just keep reading it over and over.