babies in bars

My new poem about my hatred that is white-hot and unrelenting for babies in bars.

I love babies in bars.
smoking cigars.
picking at umbilical scars.
strumming little guitars.
going for jugulars.
trying to pay with dinars.
stalking their favorite reality stars.
talking about their trips to Myanmar.
shamefacedly reading Harper's Bazzar.
waiting for the valet to come around with the car.

wishing her biological clock would tick faster,

akw

Why We Haven't Blogged in So Long

Hi there everyone,

I'm writing to update you as to why we haven't blogged since August, seeing how it's now November. Well, Made of Babies lost a very good friend to Entitilitus. It was a very sad occasion, but Randy the Intern is in a better place now. Actually, it's probably a worse place because Randy was a 45 year-old Star Wars freak who spent 10 years at Sing-Sing for making a small child dress up as an Ewok and pleasure him. Not many people saw the side of Randy we did, though. And it was touching. Very touching. Here's Randy at a sporting event last month:


He's the hefty guy. It says "Fail" because this picture has been circulating the internet as a reminder that Entitilitus kills. We failed to help Randy. God help us all.

Peace on Earth,

-Michael