Friday the 26th

I see your terrible ad/On the cinema screen/
And i'm like/ Fahgget you

What makes you go mad?


Looking at a certain abrasive gay "comedian's" mug 40 feet high on the silver screen trying to be the unholy love child of Effie Trinket and Chi Chi LaRue while pimping out Halloween fills me with such inexplicable rage I feel like a kindred spirit to apoplectic homophobes everywhere.

As in my thought balloon bursts with a single thought: "Fagsfagsyoufuckingfags."

Scream, you screaming queen.

Also, getting long impassioned pleas on FB for financial assistance from grips I'm not even close with. Grips to whom I already gave - not lent - a couple thousand bucks, ostensibly for their ailing grandmothers.


Even though I already protested that I'm neither the BVM, Toni Rose Gayda's mother, nor what the great atheist Christopher Hitchens derisively dismissed as "a thieving, fanatical Albanian dwarf," apparently I'm still mistaken for Cielito "Mahal" del Mundo. 


In the interest of public service, let it be known that that's an "L" on my forehead, not a fucking red cross. So call Princess Punzalan's ex-husband or the good Mrs. Villar or any other politician/political wannabe who needs a photo-op for your sob stories, geeeeeez.

Here's your mother of mercy, you (^*#^@%%*(!!!

Oh, hello. Have we met?


I'm Stabby McStabberson.

And yes.



We all go a little mad sometimes.

I'm not crazy. I'm just a little unwell.