It's for the kids, it's always for the kids

My friend Alan is putting together a zine about the holidays. Since I got too sentimental on the baseball issue of Foul I decided to rework "The Night Before Christmas".

Side note: Blame Aaron and Kate

Side note 2: I wrote a piece on R. Kelly in 2002. It pretty much said that people shouldn't fuck with the guy because he pisses on under aged girls. It was sarcastic. A guy in one of my classes happened to share the same lawyer as R. Kelly and the kid told me that if I didn't stop writing pieces like that I was going to get sued. Here's another piece like that.

An R. Kelly X-Mas
by Brandon Wetherbee

'Twas an R. Kelly Xmas, when all through the house,

Children were moaning and using their mouths;

The stocking were hung in the sauna with care,

In hopes that the Pied Piper would soon be there;

The children were soaked on skin so bare,

While visions of happy people two stepped in their heads,

And mama in her room and R being trapped,

Had just entered a closet for a long X-Mas rap,

When out in the sauna there arouse such a clatter,

R sprang from his studio to see what was the matter,

Away to the floor R danced like a flash,

Tore open the condoms and threw up the wrap.

TV glare on the breast of the new-teens chest,

Gave the lustre of pee to a hairless below,

When, what to R's wondering eyes should appear,

But a BET award, and eight tiny pre-teens,

With a little dead wife, so lifeless and sick,

R knew in a moment it was "the best" in Arabic.

More rapid than eagles his juices they came,

And she whistled, and shouted, and performed them by name;

"Now, anal! now, leapfrog! now, doggy and cross!

On, cowgirl! on T-square! on shocker and fisting!

To the top of the shaft! to the base of my balls!

Now suck away! suck away! suck away all!"

As R. Kelly penned "I Believe I Can Fly",

When he meets with an obstacle, he can touch the sky.

So down to McDonalds the Escalade he flew,

With the sleigh full of toys, and the Pied Piper too.

And then, in a twinkling, kids moistened their kooch

The groanings and moanings of each little hooch.

As R drew in his pants, and was dancing around,

Out from the drive-thru R. Kelly came with a bound.

He was dressed in all white, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all stained with jism and gook;

A bundle of preteens he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a molester just opening his pants.

His eyes - how they leered! his dimples so eerie!

His chapters were like opera, his words hip-hopera!

His mouth was moist with thoughts of menstrual flow,

And the thoughts behind his mask a desire to know.

The stump of a story he sold on the street,

And the laughs he ignored was some kind of feat,

He had a thick skull and a fetish quite smelly,

That filmed, when he came on a female named Kelly.

He was happy and soulful, a man sure of himself,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of the tape I watched of him having sex with underage girls and peeing on them, on the shelf;

A tinkle in their eyes and a twist on his bed,

Soon gave me to know this man's not right in the head;

He sang not a word, but went straight to his quirk,

And filled all the holes; then turned and he jerked,

And spreading his love inside of her nose,

And giving a nod, up the vagina he rose;

He sprang to his sauna, to his teen gave a whistle,

And away it flew down her down her throat like a missile.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he penetrated like a knife,

"An R. Kelly X-Mas to all, and to all a good-night!"