Godammit, I’m Mad!

*Listen here

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Amanda Palmer shows attract misfits,
The disenfranchised
Cute gay Latino boy with his Mohawk lover
Noserings must get caught when they kiss

My sons are amped up and ready
One angry about taking off his hat.
The other
Protects me from a big sweaty douche
Who pushes up behind me, up
Against me with his big male self

Amanda is sad about Michael Jackson
But not sentimental
Billie Jean is not the one
But is
The one we want her to sing

She opens her legs at her piano,
Wide open
Creamy thighs like the ones men
Always talk about.

I see for the first time
Why they want to bury their heads there
Amanda works us over like a first rate whore
And delivers us from our petty differences

Even the big fat girl in the wedding dress
Takes on the glow of a martyr in holy communion
With the Source

I feel a Christlike compassion for the fat girl
For the gay boys,
The Goth schoolgirls swaying, arms around each other
The nerd holding up a lighter
But not the big douche.

It’s Britney, bitch! Nah, just kidding.

God, I fucking rule.

Here I look fat, but so what, I have antlers.

So here’s the ensemble, as recommended by my trusted cyber-advisors. The white tank top, bangles, fitted jacket, and the fierce shoes.  I wore rocked this out to dinner tonight, with all three tags hanging out of the jeans!  I wanted to make it clear that the jeans were A PRIZE I WON, and not something I would actually buy.  It was a special birthday dinner for my boy, who is 33 today, the same age as Christ when he died for your sins.

Admit I rule. Let’s see Madonna look as good when she’s 55. Until then, she can kiss my fat ass!