Dennis and I are doing another performance at the end of March. This one will be a Songwriter's Karaoke, in which the audience will be invited onstage to sing our songs. Here's one I wrote for it on the evergreen topic of getting schnockered out of your goozie:
 
Let's get fucked up
Let's go and get high
Let's slip out together
Just you and I

Lets get fucked up
I don't mean to be rude
Let's tell all the others,
"Sorry dude".

Let's get fucked up
Let's leave the world behind
Sorry--please excuse us--
If you don't mind

Let's get fucked up
Let's go have a time
Let them all say that
It's just a crime

Let them point and laugh
And try to shame us
Bet they'd laugh and clap
If we were rich and famous

Let's get fucked up
Let's make a world of two
Let's go and get high
Just me and you

We're having  a moustache-growing contest at work.  I can't say that I'm likely to win, but it's an honor just to compete.  Mine has reached the caterpillar-under-the-nose stage.

Children come to see the place/ Where Abe Lincoln once said grace

I hope Peter doesn't mind, but I'd like to link to a short piece he wrote on his own blog on the occasion of Abraham Linclon's 200th birthday.  Happy birthday, Abie baby.

On the TV show "The Wire", set in Baltimore, one of the characters says, "What am I, Captain Chesapeake?" Ah, the happy memories of Bruce the Box. "Six bells, that means it's time for Batman!"

The Funniest Thing I've Ever Heard Anyone Say About A Vasectomy

The husband of the Mad Maggies' clarinet player had a vasectomy last year.  Brian, the bass player,  thought it made him less of a man.  I suggested that Brian was confused about the difference between a vasectomy and castration.  No, I know, he said, but still.  Oh it's the same, Rhian said.  It's just decaf.