This Is a Book - Demetri Martin [20]
“Send a man a gross orgasm!
I am, Ms., a crass, base dud.”
Ah, supple holes made me dire.
Lame fate got old, a most ogled omen.
O, did I tap a tit? A pat? I did.
Boobs or pasties, a bosom… Mmm—
Uh oh—
“Ahem, pal!”
Fast, I toss a tip.
“Mr., ass?”: a warning.
I sat ogled.
O, men! O, me, to tame Tina!
To gits I’m all animal.
“Sit now,” I say, as I do.
“Got it!” A pull… up it now I peer… camise yonder I keep.
I tip, I riff, or on one post untied, I ring.
I say, “O boy! My, my, baby. Ticklish?”
Alas, a bossy baby. Ergo, nope.
Yes, I rise. Yes.
“Ah, can I flow on, Miss?” I hit it.
“Oh, madam!” Stress all astir oft.
“Ah, we’re too hot.”
Ah, we met a rebel god as animals.
I won’t nod. I’ll act.
Eyes open, I fall.
It’s w few, dim, all ill.
I’m in a man-made reverie, babe.
Now on one pole: Stella!
Ever I wonder, Miss, as I tip (also ten, if stiff).
It’s o so still. A creep’s eyes peer.
Call it so.
So stiff, it’s fine to slap. It is ass.
I’m red now.
I reveal, “Let’s elope!”
“No.”
Now one babe I revere.
Damn! A man.
I’m ill, ill amid we few still.
A fine pose yet call I don’t.
Now I slam in a sad ogle.
“Berate me!”
“What?” O, hoot. Ere? What for?
“It’s all,” asserts madam, “ho tit.”
I hiss, “I’m no wolf in a chase.”
Yes, I rise. Yep.
O, no. Grey baby’s so basal.
Ah, silk city baby, my, my. O boy, a sign!
I ride it, nuts open. On or off, I rip it. I peek.
Ired, no? Yes, I’m a creep.
I won’t. I pull up a tit.
“O God,” I say, as I won’t.
I slam, in all, a mist.
I got an item, a totem.
One model got a sign in raw ass.
Armpit. Ass. O, tits. A flap! Me!
Ha, ho, hum. Mmm. O, so base.
It’s a pro’s boob.
Did I tap a tit? A pat? I did.
One model got so mad.
Lo, to get a female.
“Ride me, damsel.
O, help push a dude’s abs.”
Sarcasm maims a gross organ, a mad nest.
I peep. I tip it. I sit. I tip.
It is a live devil’s eye.
Yet a desire’s old. I’m it: one vamp, a lap maven.
O, too fast I slam.
In all, it’s a K.O.
Wow! Ow. Two now. Ow.
O, boob, a topside war.
Even and still it’s never even.
Sexes. Eh, the sexes.
Cat
Calendar
Dear Readers:
We have received an overwhelming number of letters in response to our recent publication of Cat-astrophe: A Calendar for People Who Do Not Love Cats. Many of you have expressed your disapproval, and, in some cases, downright anger about the calendar. We would like to offer here a brief explanation in response, as it seems many of you have grossly misunderstood our calendar and its contents.
To begin, while there are many, many calendars, which feature and celebrate cats, there are very few, if any, that represent the vast, often silent, constituency of people who do not love cats or even like them at all. We know it may be difficult for you to imagine that there are people who do not like cats or enjoy seeing them glorified. But, just as you cannot sense how bad your home smells because of your cat or how much cat hair you have on the back of your sweater, you also cannot comprehend just how much the people who dislike cats often hate them.
We hope that you will find the month-by-month explanations provided below helpful, and that you might replace some of your blind rage and narrow-minded intolerance with compassion and understanding. Please remember that we are merely a publishing company that’s trying to publish quality calendars, and we have no vested interest in either side of the cat issue.
JANUARY
“TETHER CAT”
This photograph featuring a cat tied to a tetherball pole, swinging between two men who appear to have just batted it back and forth, was only staged to look that way. The cat was not “batted” at all. It was carefully swung from one man to the other—eventually with enough force so that it would stop banging into the pole. The cat was not really harmed too much during the photo shoot. In fact, it seemed to sot of enjoy the “ride.”
FEBRUARY
“SNOW CAT”
The cat pictured here was glued onto the snowboard, so there was never any danger that it would fall off