Revised, Decades-old, Humorous Song Lyrics Not about Chronic Rhinosinusitis, a Serious Condition

When a Man Loves a Man (September 19-20, 1998) (revised July 7, 2023)

Hey Judd (January 3-4, 1999/April 25, 2017/July 9, 2023)

You’re Just My Kind (February 12-13, 2001) (revised May 11, 2017)

DVM’s 2000s Essays, One of Which Mentions Insane Clown Posse (Sound of 82,304,177 Readers Orgasming)

P.J. O’Rourke’s Idea of Sanity, March 25-26, 2001 (revised August 2, 2001)

I Hate Gates: My Futile Month-and-a-Half of Hypergraphia, December 2-3, 2002

We’re All F___ed, April 8-10, 2003

More 2000s Content and—What? You’re STILL Pissed off about the Sopranos Finale?

Two skinny (and dapper) white guys, from Not Very Factual: DVM Meets John Waters.

Americathon: The Worst Fotonovel™ Ever?, February 26-March 2, 2001 (revised June 5-6, 2023)

Enduring Rehash?, September 21-23, 2001 (revised September 27-29, 2001)

Not Very Factual: DVM Meets John Waters, July 9, 2005

My 1990s-2000s Output, with an Incongruous 1920s Postcard

Oh Sheila, December 6-8, 1998

(She’s) Barely Legal, July 3-5, 1999/September 21, 2000/June 2-3, 2023

Government Propaganda (Rated PG), March 12-13, 2001 (revised March 17, 2001)

The Cosby Show and the Obvious Truism, June 24, 2002 (slightly revised June 2, 2023)

Goofy Ban? Mickey-Mouse Baer?, July 2-3, 2002

Flash Fiction #127 (Exactly 127 Words): Offerings

For previous installments of the ALWAYS WITH LOVE saga, please click herehere, here, and here. These two sentences don’t count toward the 127-word limit.

Soon after Child Services had visited her house, my sister appeared on that podcast hosted by Blake Summers, the Eighties rock star turned right-wing pastor, to say her “groomer brother” had ratted her out to “the woke police” for having “the nerve to uphold traditional family values.”

“Shameful,” Blake said. He urged listeners to support her via Offerings, that Christian crowdfunding site, so she could “hire the best legal team if and when the courts go after her.” The next day, she’d received forty-seven grand, the same day somebody—perhaps one of those listeners—doxxed me, bringing me tons of vehemently anti-trans texts and voicemails and social-media posts, making me feel like resuming my former habit of gobbling drugs while writing self-pitying poetry. Who needs self-pitying poetry?

Copyright © 2023 by David V. Matthews

May 25-26, 2023