What's in Your Mailbox?

Is it a copy of the latest Stomock album, No Shit? Could be. I'm mailing them out to longtime loyal fans as they roll off the assembly line.

Title Warehouse #8 (Holiday Edition)

• Write a Check to Santa


• Reindeer, Tasty Reindeer


• Thanks for the Trash


• We Don't Have to Talk to Each Other (but I still gotta get you a gift)


• Do You Smell What I Smell?


• Also With Birthdays Today

My Baby Hates Christmas

No, she's not a Muslim
or a Hindu or a Jew.
She's a regular middle-American Christian,
like me and you and...
(I guess not you).
She goes to church
and she says her prayers.
She's a fan of Jesus Christ.
But every year I fear she'll lose it
and a Santa will get sliced.

'cause my baby
hates Christmas.
She hates it like it kicked her dog.
She hates it like it stole her lollypop.
She hates it like it killed her Ma.
She hates it like it took the last piece of bacon
that she needed for her BLT.
Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas
like Christmas
was me.

Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas.
She hates it like it screwed her man.
She hates it like it gave her VD.
She hates it like it burned her ham.
She hates it like showed up late to the party
in the very same dress as she.
Yeah, my baby
hates Christmas
like Christmas
was me.

What Was In My Stockings

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.

You've always been
a manly man,
looking at the ladies.
You reassured me you
would look not touch.

It didn't really bother me
that you were a skirt-watcher.
But now I know you like the skirts
just a bit too much.

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.

Kinky panties. Sexy bras.
I saw you hid my presents.
I should've known better.
Such a large sweater.
The pumps were size-elevens.

My favorite part of Christmas
was what was in my stockings.
There's was always something tasty,
something shiny,
something new.
But after this year's Christmas
I'll no longer love my stockings.
'cause what was in my stockings
was you.

Title Warehouse #7 (parenthetical, mostly infinitive, clause edition)

They Thwarted a Plan (to blow up a dam)

It Don't Take a Baseball Bat (to break a pinata)

It's Still Illegal (to run me over)

It's Hard (to beat you) When You Beat Yourself

(I never show up) For Death

Title Warehouse #6

600 Meters of Dutch Boys

Ugly as Sin (and twice as popular)

The Captain's Panties

Personal Dust Bowl

Puttin' in Time (and gettin' back gumballs)

First the Beer, then the Wine, then the Bourbon (and then the Bitter Tears)

You swore that your change wouldn't jingle
in your pocket from walking away.
But you first played that song seven years ago,
and I'm still dancing to it today.

I pour out a glass
for the good times
that haven't come near me
for years:
first the beer, then the wine,
then the bourbon--
and then, the bitter tears.

You taught me to drink beer like water.
You taught me to drink wine like beer.
You made me see red wine in bourbon
and Mardi Gras in the Jewish New Year.

I pour out a glass
for the good times
that haven't come near me
for years:
first the beer, then the wine,
then the bourbon--
and then, the bitter tears.

We were famed for our inebriation
with each other, right from the start.
Then like Carry Amelia Nation,
you smashed the saloon of my heart.

Title Warehouse #5

Stuck in a Rut Called You

I'll Tell You What I'm Thinkin' ('cause I'm Drunk)

Finish Your Platitudes (there are children in China with no common sense)

Congratulations on Your Magical Pants!

Why Won't You Stay?

I said that you were sweet like sugar.
You smiled and so I figured
I had gotten something right.
But I got hungry in the night
and tried to scoop up
a cup,
so we had to have a little fight.

Why won't you stay where I put you?
You're always doing something
that I didn't think you could.
Why won't you stay where I put you?
Why won't you stay understood?

I said that you were soft and warm,
like the wooly underwear
our grandparents used to wear.
But I got cold in the night
and tried to unsnap
your flap,
so we had to have a little fight.

Why won't you stay where I put you?
You're always doing something
that I didn't think you could.
Why won't you stay where I put you?
Why won't you stay understood?

I said that you were cold as an icepick
someone firmly took in hand
and jammed into my ear.
You said, "babe, you're too precise
and too uptight
tonight,"
and then we fooled around all night.

Why won't you stay where I put you?
You're always doing something
that I didn't think you could.
Why won't you stay where I put you?
Why won't you stay understood?

Fun is for the Young

You can hold 'em back.
Fuss and fight.
Preach and teach.
Make 'em stand up right.
Lock 'em in their rooms.
Fill 'em with your fears.
Make 'em like you.
Make 'em dread each year.

Give your children condoms.
Let your children play.
Hand buzzer gags and porno mags.
Bicycles and bondage games.
I have seen the grownup world.
The grownup world is dumb.
Fun.
Fun is for the young.

You can press 'em down.
Growl and spit.
Wash out their mouths
if they say "tit".
Call up the priest
to cast out their will.
If all else fails,
put 'em on pills.

Give your children condoms.
Let your children play.
Hand buzzer gags and porno mags.
Bicycles and bondage games.
I have seen the grownup world.
The grownup world is dumb.
Fun.
Fun is for the young.

The choice is yours
until the choice is theirs
so take their choice away.
If you can't join 'em, beat 'em.
Berate 'em and beat 'em.
Berate 'em and beat 'em.
Berate 'em berate 'em berate 'em berate 'em

or just

give your children condoms.
Let your children play.
Hand buzzer gags and porno mags.
Bicycles and bondage games.
I have seen the grownup world.
The grownup world is dumb.
Fun.
Fun is for the young.