Which takes us on a direct path to:
THE  INCIDENT.
Say you are a normal man—whatever that means—
But say it’s late June of 1993 and you’re laying on the couch,
Scratching your *****, trying to intuit your LDL level
Based on the two bowls of the Old Lady’s Cholesterol Chowder.
The Old Lady-- you can call her Peg or Mrs. Bundy—
Served it up in her special legacy china,
An assortment of recycled tin foil casserole dishes &
Vintage melmac handed down by your mother-in-law.
You are on the couch giving digestion your best shot,
Still scratching your agates when Peg comes
In from the kitchen with your second glass of
Two-buck chuck and a smoking fatty she’s just ignited,
Miraculously without burning the house down.
The TV is on—the TV is always on because
The TV has had no off button since 1984
You are tuned to the CNN evening news &
A report comes on that makes you sit up,
Snap to attention, straight up and take notice:
"WOMAN CUTS OFF HUSBAND'S *****!"
The media shrikes in Atlanta have your attention now,
Your complete attention;
Your eyes are riveted to the telescreen &
Your blood pressure spiking at 240 over 140.
During the previous night of June 23, 1993,
John Wayne Bobbitt arrives at the
Couple's apartment in Manassas, Virginia,
Highly intoxicated after a night of partying.
According to testimony given by Lorena Bobbitt
In a 1994 court hearing, he then rapes her.
Afterwards, Lorena Bobbitt gets out of bed,
Goes to the kitchen for a drink of water.
According to a journal article in the
National Women's Justice & Defense
League of Psychotic Castrating *******,
While in the kitchen she notices,
A carving knife on the counter & "memories of
Past domestic abuse races through her head."
Grabbing the knife, Lorena Bobbitt enters the bedroom
Where John is sleeping & proceeds to
Cut off nearly half his *****,
Half his Johnson,
In this instance aptly named.
So you have some schnook who’s named
After the iconic Hollywood superstar John Wayne . . .
Now understand something, John Wayne—
The ******* Duke of Earl--
Personifies everything alpha male:
Physique, animal magnetism & a pair of
Huge ***** swinging in his chaps as
He sashays across the screen.
In real life he’s a bullfight & cigar aficionado,
A big game hunter and sport fisherman, &
A hard drinking Hemingway hero
Who spends most of his time aboard
A customized WWII U.S. mine sweeper
******* to a pier behind his house in
Newport Harbor, California.
He’s the proverbial man’s man, &
There’s no one like him in America
Until maybe Eastwood or Willis comes along.
There’s a statue of him out in front of
The Orange County Airport that bears his name.
I have a photograph of him hanging in my garage
Next to a Mad-Dog 20-20 poster.
But I digress.
We return to the Bobbitt story because
It gets better, keeps getting crazier.
After assaulting her husband,
Lorena leaves the apartment with the severed *****,
Drives around aimlessly for a short while,
Then rolls down the car window &
Throws the ***** into a field.
Only then does the loony ***** realize
The severity of the incident.
She stops and calls 911.
After an exhaustive search by
Volunteers from the local Humane Society,
The ***** is located, packed in the ice-slurry of
A banana-flavored 7/11 Slurpee, &
Taken to the hospital where half-**** John Bobbitt
Gets a short-arm inspection and treated,
Mostly for shock and awe.
His ***** is later reattached by Drs. James T. Sehn &
David Berman during a nine-and-a-half-hour surgery
Filmed by Ken Burns and broadcast in its entirety by
WGBH Boston, a stunning illustration of
Your tax dollars hard at work
At the National Endowment for the Arts.
An abridged version later becomes the season premier of
"Girls Gone ******* ******, Manassas!"
Lorena goes on Oprah to explain herself.

Lorena Bobbitt ((née Gallo) was born in Ecuador.
Her maiden name, ironically,
Means **** in English.
Sheriff Joe Arpaio in Phoenix had this to say:
“Deport the *****. She may have an INS green card
But there’s no way she had a government permit to
Go around lopping ***** off in Virginia or any other state.
Who does she think she is, Janet Napolitano?”
Napolitano could not be reached for comment.
Shortly after the incident, episodes of "Bobbittmania,"
Or copycat crimes, were reported.
The name Lorena Bobbitt eventually became
Synonymous with ***** removal.
The terms "Bobbitt Punishment" and "Bobbitt Procedure" gained
Social cache with a radical break-away sect of N.O.W.
COPYCAT Catherine Kieu Becker, 48 (Garden Grove P.D.)  
Woman Accused of Cutting Off Husband's *****
Pleads Not Guilty/ VIDEO: Watch Jennifer Gould's Report
KTLA News   10:40 a.m. PST, February 3, 2012 /SANTA ANA, Calif.
"A 48-year-old woman accused of cutting off
Her husband's ***** and putting it
In the garbage disposal has pleaded
Not guilty to all the charges against her.
Catherine Kieu, of Garden Grove,
Was indicted earlier this month on
One felony count of torture &
One felony count of aggravated mayhem.
She also faces a sentencing enhancement for
Practicing surgical medicine without a license."
Sign up for KTLA 5 Breaking News Email Alerts
Comments (130) Add / View comments | Discussion FAQ
Happy627 at 10:35 PM January 18, 2012
"So my x-wife is a violent drunken *****?
Never once did I ever think of hurting her
But now I see I was wrong.
Vengeance's is the true answer & payback is hell.
So basically I should put an M-40
In her *** and light the fuse.
I should be acquitted from any wrong doing
Because she was a violent drunken *****.
Maybe all men should do this to their
Violent wives/girlfriends & teach them a lesson.
Cyanmanta at 1:10 AM January 11, 2012
In response to Doreen Meyer:
"So you're assuming that because he was the victim
He must have done something to deserve it
In some small way?
Typical of convenient feminism:
Assume all female victims are innocent &
Pure as driven snow,
While dismissing all male victims
With the idea that 'he had it coming.'
I wish I could pander shamelessly
To the media for preferential treatment,
But sadly, I am male (or as feminists would say)
The Evil Gender."
Westfield at 5:47 PM Jan.09, 2012
She should get her own show on the ***** channel.
(Bravo). KABC radio's John Phillips & his girlfriend
Nathan Baker would love to watch it."
Sluff it off, take a load off, baby.
Take a load off?
“Take a load off Annie,
Take a load for free;
Take a load off Annie, and
Bom bom bom bom
Bom be bom— & Dddddddddd,
You can put the load right on me.”
Send “The Weight” Ringtone to Your Cell

. . . Snipped, fixed, neutered, gelded,
Emasculated, eunuchized, or castrated?
(Castrating Forceps  (www.alibaba.com/
Showroom/castration-tool.html).
Bobbittized!

I have not changed in years (it seems),
     physically I am constant,
six feet and lopping sack of
     bone and skin, buck-forty
on my best, wettest day.

These months have flown as
     leaves in fall.
November is come and soon
     will escape with the wind
as well and I am solidly planted
     at a desk in an office with a
floor too hard to deepen the reach
     of my roots.

I am like to wither and rot,
     left rootless in snow and
ice; ash of autumn, flowerless.
     The trees will die—grounded,
yes, and utterly passionless.

Gaily, blithely,
We tread the scarlet fields
Plucking at blooms that star the stone-cursed earth;
Painstaking bursts from frail stems, begot in meagre rivulets,
In barren battlefields of our making.
Important to note the distinction
Between deadheading and slaughter.

You say I'm lazy, and that I'm ruining my life,
You want someone better, it's causing internal strife.
When you see the score on my head dropping,
To the execution, my head will be lopping.

That score on your head is everything,
Without it their blows aren't soft.
And to all that see me as a trophy,
I tell you now, *******!

I am a strong,independent person,
Despite what you think.
I'll do my best, just like the rest,
And I don't care if I sink.

I'll do it my own way,
So get the hell off my back.
There is nothing you can say,
To "put me back on track"

the tears they stick to my face
burning like salt in a fresh cut
though mine were never very deep
they were always fresh and there
and there was blood all over my clothes
mainly my long sleeves and sweatshirts
i remember the first time i bled through a shirt
at school and the butter knives that i hoarded
like i was gonna fight off my demons with little
ridged pieces of plastic
but ****** they kept me company
when mother dearest was either too drunk or ******
to realize my first cut
i mean come on lady it bled like a stuck pig
i cut really close to the vein that time
sometimes i wish i had had the guts to
go deep enough that first time
and i never would have had to deal with
four years of self-destruction
maybe if my mom had pressed me for the truth
but it’s more my fault than hers
though for once
that is not the reason why i am crying

i am not enough of a boy
but i’m too much of a boy to be a girl
and i’m too much of a girl to be a boy
but ****** who are you to label me
you haven’t asked me how this feels
you only cared right after i tried to **** myself
and only then i’m convinced you only asked because
my little sister was in the next room
and the doctor
his name rhymed with cranberry
and i hated him right away
he told my my being transgender
was just a diversion tactic
like buddy dood sir mister ******* listen to me
i am so ******* open about my mental illness
it’s all i talk about
i am literally a broken ******* record
i am loud and out and proud about everything that
is going on with me
both inside and outside
and if i wanted to create a “diversion”
i would have just slit my throat
because then i would have made my mother happy
by not being able to correct her when she continued
to call me her sweet little precious little
baby girl

you say i can’t be a boy
because of the clothes i wear
and the little tics i have
how i do jazz hands when i’m excited or happy
and this is a rare emotion
you should be proud that i am an emotional guy
instead of just a rock
a pillar of broken pieces
and yelling and grabbing and scars
because you and daddy dearest
you taught me that i should keep everything
inside of me
because you do not understand what is happening
to your little girl
and neither do i
but i do understand enough to know that
since i was seven
i was just a kid
i have known i was different
and it was okay for other people to be a lesbian
to be gay or bisexual or god forbid transgender
but i couldn’t do anything more exciting than wear
mismatched socks and combat boots to school
you didn’t bother to educate me on those things
and that’s why when i found out what transgender meant
through tumblr might i add
i finally knew that i wasn’t some broken toy
i’m not a freak
i am not a freak
but you make me feel like a freak

but i can’t be a girl either
because every time someone misgenders me
or calls me she or her or you introduce me
as your ******* daughter
it makes me want to rip out my insides
to show you that they have the word
boy painted on them
in blue and dripping paint
my insides are male
but i can’t be a boy
no i can’t
because i didn’t show any signs of it
growing up
i came out too late for mommy dearest to
believe or accept me
i can’t be a boy because i have a ******* ******
well you accept famous transgender people
and i am sorry that i don’t have the money to transition
i would if i could
but i’m pretty sure i’ll be dead before then anyway

i scared the dog with my sobbing and yelling
he’s still hiding in the bedroom upstairs
and i should be doing my summer school
but you have never been supportive of my schooling
so i really don’t see the ******* point
and sometimes the voices sound like you
they tell me what a disappointment i am
how i am so wrong
how you don’t love me
how you can’t love me
how i am going to hell
i am afraid to go to sleep at night
because all i do is dream about being dead
they tell me in your voice
that you would rather have me dead and a girl
than alive and a boy
and i am afraid that that is how you
really feel about me
like sorry i was ever born

i am not a girl
but you say i can’t be a boy
then i say i am not real
you are grieving a ghost
you say you want your little girl back
maybe you should have loved her more
both of you
this is for both of you
*******
you ruined the best thing either of you
has ever and will ever have
but this idea
this radical idea
that i may actually know better than either
of you what i was born to be
this is what keeps me going
late at night when i want to start
stock-piling my trazodone
maybe this time will be the charm
and then you can put her name on
my headstone and make me wear
the prettiest dress that i never would
ever wear while alive
but a corpse can’t talk
so what does it matter
i can be your little girl again
even if she is just a body

but **** that
i am going to keep on living
and yes
lopping off my ******* will solve
a lot of my problems
i am going to start t *******
even if you disown me
i have created my own little family
we are the lost boys and girls
the demon left in the presence
of your non acceptance
and i will be who i was always meant to be
a boy
my name is priestly
i am a boy
and even if you don’t accept or believe me
and that really ******* hurts
but i am good at hiding things
i believe and accept myself enough
for the both of us
and i have friends that
believe and accept me too
i am going to keep on living
because as her i was just surviving
but now finally after so many
long and hard and trying years
i am glad to be alive
i am living
as who i was meant to be
and i literally cannot believe that you
had the guts
to use the ******* gender binary on me
you ******* *** hag
and stereotype me into your little box
of blue for boys
and pink for girls

well maybe i like purple better

6 sirens snoozed to the wind and a petrified banana
burrowing down in the slow lane
billowing blue smoke
like white horses over a bombora

accelerator airflow regulator out on his own
zonked
lopping around like a white flag stuck at half mast
3 weeks after the funeral

smug green peppers and salt hung rabbits that have travelled and
have seen things and
know exactly,
what you have done

spray painted bees, howling
window cleaner 10 jobs in and still using the same water
Bill Clinton,
£4 a week

Yamata Yamata, no jacket
Spanish ceramic pots that I told you are sensitive and
**** THEMSELVES
in the dishwasher

ritual
like sunday prayers or Chinese mushroom powder in the morning
4 of your 5 a day sounds impressive but when you start the day on
MINUS 10
you spend the rest of it buying back lives

duck soup Danish

milkman’s left the bottle behind the bin where you will NEVER FIND IT

tonight — blue moon
last night — no moon
wednesday — moon doing bad things in a capsized kayak at a
full moon party on Zanzibar

coat hanger for an aerial
rocket launch to the ursa minor

£3.49
bottom shelf
all the answers you need for less than the price of a day-rider

and then tomorrow
bombay lentils
bombay lentils
bombay lentils, everywhere.

I love you too,
I don’t say.
Stumbling barefoot in the dusty grass
I stare down at my toes.
Solely dependent
The current situation I cling to
Chopping off my hands and feet and hair
I contort myself in order to fit.
Flexibility has always served me well
Lopping off the branches, limbs, twigs
of the mother tree
I stuff it all down

Ah... what luxury to wax poetic
as freedom to trumpet thoughts,
ideas, emotions, et cetera will wane,
especially if president number forty five
courtesy wealth and/or stealth
dons the mantle as de facto fractious tyrant
of these United States
come November 5th, 2024
methinks perchance mankind always vain
n'er did appertain
moral hike polar opposite

from human being:
uncivil, unethical, unsocial, et cetera
minimally app proxy mating, neither didst
faithfully abide as citizen Kane
externally - nar main
ten an ounce, (asper atop figurative fain
faux shaw didst attain
"FAKE" horn o' manners), tolerance,
our predecessors didst abstain
nor internally between brain,

sans modest straight,
and ne'r did entertain
narrow true lofty salient tenet
absence of virtue tis no matter pray'n -
quite self evident, plain
as day, and vice gripped by
fratricide (or homicide
in general) endemic throughout
evolution of humanity dripping
nee gushing more'n

nah globule bloodstain,
viz more aptly bloodbath,
haply insinuated, embedded,
and accrued heart felt toehold gain
saying division among
caveman club rings animal hides
pelt did maintain
bare co-opted spirit hood
did micro reign
buzzfeed ding death,

via plenti did retain
aplomb murderous sprees kickstarter
thankfully guaranteeing (ha)
hardy internecine characteristic
kept in lock step with
proto humans enlightenment, qua
i.e. as earliest primates
acquired innate haughty
zealous apropos boastfulness
to ascend chain

of command anointing insane
lee flattering hashtag, re: (albeit ill fit
ting), yet utopian
appellation "noble savage,"
which inchoate bipedal hominids
(forerunners of **** sapiens),
quickly dost wrought impertinent
sobriquet (by anonymous
simian "Einstein brain
child"), viz favored

killing one another
strove and still thrives,
since Adam and Eve,
for sport, but most
dramatically didst appear
purportedly, when Abel got slain by Cain
punctuated equilibrium lopping limb
and/or head off if one
didst dissent or complain
setting precedent for consanguineous
modern Roman Times

(font size twelve) brutish,
nasty, and short train
ning supposedly "civilized insubordinate"
Lorde foo fighting beastie boy
received fatal crackbrain
with imprimatur challenging authority,
sans grossly wading, brazen overstepping
circumscribed domain,
where thwack on noggin
determined, hence did explain
survival of fittest.

Gretchen is a dual-headed calico cat with a terrifying cough that my
gay neighbor reduced by 50% simply by lopping her extra head off!
Sparkles is a twin-headed calico cat with a stubborn right-side head
cough that I cut in half simply by hacking her superfluous head off!

I wonder
How William Wordsworth
Would of coped
If he'd been born
150 years later
Whilst musing over daffodils
As an electric strimmer
Cuts them down
Lopping off their trumpet heads
Whilst chainsaws cut through
Screaming trees around him
Hedge-trimmers
Hoovers
Or spin dryers
Noise
Surely would of affected
His poetic thoughts
Although i contend
That baaing sheep,
And the mooing of cattle
May of caused his brain to rattle
I wonder if Dorothy snored?
From what i saw
Many years ago
One rainy summer
There was no snow
I don't think Dove Cottage
Would have had any roon
For a spin dryer!

by Jemia

Any idea regarding who unnamed individual earned such lofty title? I offer a clue, that averred person unknown to many others within the webbed, wide world, and familiarity limited to smattered kith and kin. Lemme know if dead giveaway ala handy dandy blues clue prompted that "aha" realization.

Hero worship in the age of cynicism
baffles one disillusioned eccentric,
who prides himself (without prejudice),
bolstered courtesy his sense and sensibility
self actualized ex post facto
compliments of nasty
and brutally destructive
purblind (in retrospect,
raffish, selfish) endeavors
nearly devastating, harpooning

cocky eye looey fella,
lopping, et cetera
pledged troth July twenty fifth
nineteen hundred and ninety six
made when unbridled marital covenant accepted,
scuttled in favor of liberating libidinal longings
largely licensing licentious liaisons
simultaneously, permanently, and majorly
compromising, jeopardizing, violating
once especially cherished bonds

between father of two darling daughters,
(the eldest - a recent
University of Pennsylvania alumni
approaching her twenty eighth birthday
December 22nd, 2024 -
once upon a time hashtagged as daddy's girl)
cut himself down to size of raw bits
particularly indecorous flagrant callousness
emotional and financial niggardliness
he lavished with paltry

acquired scant monies
acquired courtesy family beneficence
(chump change received such as
for mine birthday and holiday gifts -
cashed treasury bonds before maturity)
spent acquisition or borrowed currency
on meager trappings for yours truly
where (barely able,
nay impossible mission) to meet costs
of living social on the MainLine

within Lower Merion School District
offered superlative public education -
to challenge first born GIEP student
and second offspring,
who exhibited developmental delay,
thus whose IEP pared down so she could
rally approbation in the form
of attagirl, kudos, stickers, et cetera)
slightly more manageable,
yet being chronically unemployed

(and unemployable – before qualifying
for government largesse)
until I met criteria
and bankrolled unearned income
to receive social security disability,
still sorely challenged person
writing these words
to meet paying rent and utilities,
and also linkedin
to significant mental health challenges

in tandem with faith no more,
and abandonment of attaining potential smarts
regarding accessing academic gifted aptitude
thwarted, stymied, hijacked to Cuba, et cetera
marked ambivalence toward self success
nearly failed every grade
even kindergarten - ha
and sustained behavioral pattern
earning me poor marks
when launching feeble

attempts to work,
and managed to witness being terminated,
thus accruing splendid curriculum vitae awash
with horrendous, and deleterious feedback
unflattering to say the least
and unfavorable to college/
university admissions officials,
plus being long haired
pencil neck geek
when doos more conservative),

a definite strike against
unseen positive impression
videre licet in the eyes of potential employer,
whereby poor performance
track record signaled a red flag
accumulating over time
to affect dark shadows qua nine inch nails
scratching across outsize blackboard,
foo fighting, beastie boys bullying
scaring the bejesus out of me unsure

outer limits of the twilight zone
inhabited, where the wild things live
hovering at the edge of night
subsequently spurring yours truly
to dejectedly slink along
the hallowed halls of higher learning
to savor the sounds of silence
being secreted and sequestered
within bedroom inside domicile
of my boyhood, adolescence,
and emerging adulthood.

I've also felt
all windows were watching
all walls were listening,
I'd also felt at that time
streets and footpaths were speaking
and veils were lifting.

I've felt
even when I was walking
even when I was stopping
all trees and birds
sky and stars
bosoms and bangles
were seeing everything.

It's true
in that hesitation
whether to stop or proceed
get off or get over,
all roads had appeared
unfathomable.

It's true
I had also read
on the face of surroundings
some broken
some disconnected
some cracked expectations.

I've touched some sentences
and have kissed some words.

Eyes that obstruct the road can be removed
but what happens when hearts block the passage?
that's why
I've also pretended not to see
the windows and walls.

At such time
it has also seemed to me
there've been conspiracies against me,
search for instruments
to hit me in my words
has also been going on.

I've also felt
those eyes and looks
have also been sending a river
of the flowers of feelings somewhere,
raising a hill of the aromas of imagination.

And have experienced at such time
my mind sleeping in the joy of love.
and have felt some arid passion taking me somewhere
lopping off sensitive branches of life.

At such moments
felt my mind wake up with the temptation of life
gathering courage for flowering beauty
even in the desert of living.

Do not think
I've reached where I am now
by slipping like a landslide
or evaporating like a cloud.

I've climbed up here
holding the hilt of time's sword
after driving it
into my tender heart.

Whether anybody comes to convince me or not
a part of my life does always ache
arresting my chest.

-०-

I neglect to argue for the green hatred of your scabby, thumb stump
that asphixiates me even worser than your pork-lard-ham-**** ****
drenching Sheriff Taylor like the moistened crotch of Helen Crump
Cowboy boots **** like a ****'s cough because you need a goof ball
cowboy-boot-taking-off tool to take the ****-*** cowboy boots off
Often, while washing in the water fountain at Walmart, I remember
the **** Sam's Club baths that we took pre-Christmas in December
'cause you were a **** who was lost like a ****** in church, scared
of white folk, I combed your hairy tuft as it was harsh, gay research
that I undertook for a book to expose **** from crotch to arm crook
as it's bony calorifical fluxes that on filthy death-beds, ****-***** us
after luring us with stuff celebrating pustles of unstuffed duck's pus
we endeavor, open-scale, trans-bland infinity takes virtually forever
There are dietary things that you might do to up your sadly-low I.Q.
that don't entail hacking limbs off or making it with an ape in a zoo
or, that don't include lopping off horns or ******* chimps in a zoo
“Thanks ever so,” I said to the ½-white chick who took me into her
shack, “but I prefer my hot-****** ***** feverish & tarrishly black.”
Self-pity wasn't encouraged yet now it's applauded among the well-
fed & overly-fed who're self-righteously entitled & forever coddled
1 way to know that a pizza's gay is to run really fast when the pork-
flavored toppings are savagely ****-******* you up your reeking ***
Please deliver this toy posy to wild Oscar Wilde & poser-boy Bosie
in France after bein' ferried as **** likely homosexually married, or
in gay Paris after they are ferried as a couple homosexually married
they liked infectin' ***** with the venereal scrapes that they carried