Someone other that myself is reading my blog and that is nice. I even got some comments. Thank you anyone who left one. I keep this blog on the down low. I can't share it with family or friends for obvious reason. And, so I am pleased with my over 400 hits. The 500 hit milestone seems at hand

Of course, I fantasize, that one morning I will wake up and find it has "exploded." I am a wealthy woman. I have made that clear. But, bad things can always happen and it is still feasible that I might find myself in search of a day job.... if bad things happen. If I could make a living from my blog, that would be wonderful. If really really bad things happen or no good things happen for too long I can be homeless and not be able to blog at all. You don't see the homeless with laptops.

As it stands, I am a stay at home mom and since two of my three kids have strains of autism I am seen as a hero for tending to them. Joke is that I tend to them about 8 minutes a day. I have 3 nannies and 2 housekeepers and a manny who is just here because he can fix things and does for less money that it would cost for other outside help( my upscale husband is very thrifty) and because it is trendy.

The spinster sisters are not wealthy and as of late I'm taking care of them. I'm not talking to them today(long story) but in general they are my peeps.

Delmont is getting some due somewhere. I can just feel it so I'll post another of his. This is just a 1/4 of the whole thing . If I reach 450 hits by tonight I'll put the rest up. It's not very edited. I've been oversheduled, as they say. He's dead anyhow, so you can't hurt him anymore. So, feel free to write any sort of comment.

Hip Hop for highbrows/Rap for raconteurs


New Yorker readers,
Solopsistic top feeders
Unite
The niche is there
So won’t it be queer
If us curmudgeons put up a fight.
Let them call us disgrungled
Or even romantic

J. Lo will come back to a theatre near you
it is time to get frantic.

Social criticism is what I give
It aint’ about being nega- tiv

If not a revolution
Can I say hay yo for a renaissance
More josephine baker

less beyonce

Wanna escape
Cultural rape, aesthetic pillage?
Not going to find safe harbor

in Greenwich village

bohemians can’t afford the dues
On even studios with alley views.
Ya'll we gotsta to commute
If we don’t want to wear no

monkey suit.

Highbrows we be bitter with bush about being
an outerborough resident
But ya’ll this happened
when Clinton was presi-dent.

You can’t blame this all on cheney and bush
It’s like blaming the hemoroid
instead of the tush.

Opinions have gone diagnostic
I want to be a prophet or a mystic
But all I’ll get called is
borderline or narcissistic.

I feel optimistic about my mad rhyming skills
To dj away societies' ills.
say yo if you aint no average

jane or joe?

Dj ice floe is here to unharsh your low.

The makeover has got to be more extreme
don’t call me codependent

cause I want
To do it as a team

Western culture,
Is being attacked by more than

mullahs and imams
Highbrows! we can do this

sans burkahs and bombs.

I want to prostelysize

without being preachy
reverend wright
sure ain’t no proust or neitze.

Paris is out
don’t hear anymore about café society
Aw ,fuckin shucks!
I ain’t talking about starbucks.
I’m talking about gay paree
sarte and simone debuviou (de- boo- vee- ay)
I want to escape
the grasp of

Rachel ray

The beats are gone too yo,
And noone smokes

much less does blow

Poor Kerouc

didn’t have no serontonin uplift
He would be miffed
To know
That he could no longer
Take Greyhound,
with their lame companion pass
And their restrictions on smoking cigs and grass
Amtrak
Kiss my ass.
Everybody’s got SUVS and All weather tents
I can’t even pay my rents

How are my bon mots gotta get no cred?
The Algonquin is filled with tourists and
Dorothy Parkers dead, dead, dead


It’s not the time to be laconic
When Dr. Phil is hailed as the one with the answer
The plague's gone bubonic

Everywhere you look
They hail the death of the book
swallow by

Blogs , bulletin boards, social networking sites
The huddled masses fighting cyber fights
Oprah hailed as one of our leading lights.

Heartwarming to watch
her give away gifts to the proletariat
Who doesn’t want
An electric yoga mat?
That rhyme wasn’t phat.

Reality is getting edited
How long till my verse be credited?

We need to get back the spirit
That Oprah is trying to steal
Let’s club her with her books
And take away her meals.

She can afford to be a gluttonous on gourmet
How many debts they want us to pay?


Yeah, I’m talking about
the unchattering classes, the bourgeoisie
The culture that
don't belong to you and me.

Generations x, y, baby boom
Let’s not give in to this doom
Did I say doom? I don’t want anyone to panic
But, the revolution don't end with cloth bags,
and buying only organic.

Attention spans are said to be extinct
as is the acceptability of every kind of kink
Read this article about it, I’ll send a link

How do I rid the enlightment of this fog?
I can write a blog
be a postmodern worldwide web cog
as the enlightment

is covered in bandwith fog

I’ll put bling and say my thing
I’ll get comments and commiseration
By fellows of the screenamed nation

I’ll feel the icks

when I say check out my pics
But I wouldn't have to endure

finger pointing or stares
Who cares who cares where I put my wares
As long as there somewheres anywheres.

If I don’t get hits
I’ll show upload my tits
My mother will sob
And I’ll tell her I wasn’t made for an office job
and that

you never have to wear a coat
When you work remote.

regular mail is now called "snail."

emoticons try at emotion

and fail--
hands busy typing and scrolling,
no one seen strolling,
strainted wrists and strained eyes--
obesity is on the rise.

The world is trading, trading
I know about nafta
But theeir idea of cultural sharing

is not what I’m afta.

I hear there's a scene in park slope
If lord byron lost a poetry slam

how would he cope?
Would head to the nearest lounge bar ,

were he couldn’t smoke?
Pass me the heroin,

forget about the coke.

to be cont'd.