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Checked Out In Jersey

Absurd because life is absurd. In your car, on the train or at your desk at work while you're supposed to be doing something else, Checked Out will help you escape the every day and can be found on iTunes, Stitcher, Google Play, TuneIn Radio, iHeart Radio, the LibSyn App and Playapod.


Dec 25, 2015

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a Kardashian was stirring, so I ironed my blouse;

The Louie Vuitton stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that the ex-wife's money soon would be there;

No children were nestled all snug in their beds;

While visions of my new bum danced in my head;

And mamma, who used to be pappa, in her 'flannels, and I in my teddy,

Had just heard an anthem by the great Helen Reddy,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my bed to see it was #blacklivesmatter.

Then yay through the window the police lights did flash,

Their gunshots did stutter and lead balls did smash.

The dead on the breast of the artificial snow,

Gave a luster of ink stains to objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,

But a bunch of trans girls dressed as tiny rein-deer,

With chocolate from Godiva so creamy and think,

I knew in a moment they're here for this chick.

More vapid than valley girls these trans-whores they came,

And I whistled, and shouted, and called out their names:

"Now,Ashley! The dancer! now Nancy and Vixen!

I'll vomit with,Lucy and Donna and Christen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now party, girls ! party girls! Party girls all!"

As leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When we meet with an obstacle, we'll trick the next guy;

So up to my front door the trans-whores they flew

With the sleigh full of toys, and Dame Edna too—

And then, in a twinkling, we climbed to the roof

For prancing and pawing with each little poof.

With my weave on my head, I was turning around,

Down the chimney Kanye came with a bound.

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

And his clothes were Armani, Laura Ashley and Sprout;

His big-booty wife he had flung on his back,

And he looked like Kriss Kross, wiggity-wiggity-whack.

His eyes—behind wayfarers! his thick lips, how yummy!

My cheeks were like roses, my nose twitching funny!

His droll big mouth won't shut up when on a roll,

And the beard on his chin was as black as coal;

He was just so dumb with a tight washboard belly

My implants shook when I laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

Kim was chubby and plump, a God-awful old elf,

And I laughed when I saw her, in spite of myself;

Distance in her eye and nothing in her head

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

We spoke not a word, and I went straight to my work,

Upstairs to my T-girls; for our Christmas circle jerk,

And laying my finger aside of my nose,

And giving a nod, up our girlcocks they rose;

We swear we're not gay, to hot chicks we still whistle,

And our loads they all blew like the Patriot missle.

Then they heard me exclaim, ere I stumbled out of sight—

One out of 8 and half trans teens won't survive the night!”