In this parody of “Mary, Did You Know?” by the great Mark Lowry (please come on the podcast Mark we love you), we chronicle all the wonderful things the Biden administration has done for us this holiday season. And we wonder: did he know?
Coming to all major music services soon. Please bee patient.
Lyrics:
Biden did you know that your policies would drive us underwater?
Biden did you know that your policies would trans our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your policies will punish what is true?
The church that you subscribe to, does not subscribe to you.
Biden did you know that your baby boy made shady deals in Ukraine?
Biden did you know that your baby boy loves Parmesan and cocaine?
Did you know that you shouldn’t touch these women like you do?
When you sniff that little girl’s hair, it’s borderline #metoo
The wall will cease
The debt increase
And the dead will vote again
The crime will leap
The dumb will speak
While we say, “C’mon man!”
Biden, did you know that your policies would bring about inflation?
Biden, did you know that your policies would one day ruin the nation?
Did you know that your policies make Herod’s reign seem bland
One day you’ll have to answer to the great I Am
Notes from an inexperienced Chili taster named Frank, who was visiting Texas from the East Coast:
Recently I was honored to be selected as an outstanding famous celebrity in Texas, to be a judge at a Chili cook-off, because no one else wanted to do it. Also the original person called in sick at the last moment, and I happened to be standing there at the judge’s table asking for directions to the beer wagon when the call came. I was assured by the other two judges (Native Texans) that the chili wouldn’t be all that spicy, and besides, they told me that I could have free beer during the tasting. So I accepted.
Here are the scorecards from the event:
CHILI # 1: MIKE’S MANIC MONSTER CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A little to heavy on tomato. Amusing kick.
JUDGE TWO: Nice, smooth tomato flavor. Very mild.
FRANK: Holy crap, what the heck is this stuff? You could remove dried paint from your driveway with this stuff. I needed two beers to put the flames out. Hope that’s the worst one. Those Texans are crazy.
CHILI # 2: ARTHUR’S AFTERBURNER CHILI
JUDGE ONE: Smokey, with a hint of pork. Slight Jalapeno tang.
JUDGE TWO: Exciting BBQ flavor. Needs more peppers to be taken seriously.
FRANK: Keep this out of reach of children! I’m not sure what I am supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave of two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich maneuver. They had to walkie-talkie in three extra beers when they saw the look on my face.
CHILI # 3: FRED’S FAMOUS BURN DOWN THE BARN CHILI
JUDGE ONE: Excellent firehouse chili! Great kick. Needs more beans.
JUDGE TWO: A beanless chili. A bit salty. Good use of red peppers.
FRANK: Call the EPA, I’ve located a uranium spill. My nose feels like I have been snorting Drano. Everyone knows the routine by now. Barmaid pounded me on the back; now my backbone is in the front part of my chest. I’m getting shit-faced.
CHILI # 4: BUBBA’S BLACK MAGIC
JUDGE ONE: Black Bean chili with almost no spice. Disappointing.
JUDGE TWO: Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish for fish or other mild foods. Not much of a chili.
FRANK: I felt something scraping across my tongue, but was unable to taste it. Sally, the barmaid, was standing behind me with fresh refills; that 300 lb. witch is starting to look HOT, just like this nuclear-waste I’m eating.
JUDGE TWO: Chili using shredded beef; could use more tomato. Must admit the cayenne peppers make a strong statement.
FRANK: My ears are ringing, and I can no linger focus my eyes. I farted and four people behind me needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her chili had given me brain damage. Sally saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly from a pitcher onto it. It really ticks me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Freakin’ Rednecks! ! !
CHILI # 6: VERA’S VERY VEGETARIAN VARIETY
JUDGE ONE: Thin yet bold vegetarian variety chili. Good balance of spice and peppers.
JUDGE TWO: The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions and garlic.
FRANK: My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with gaseous, sulphuric flames. No one seems inclined to stand behind me except that slut Sally. I need to wipe my butt with a snow cone!
CHILI # 7: SUSAN’S SCREAMING SENSATION CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A mediocre chili with too much reliance on canned peppers.
JUDGE TWO: Ho Hum. Tastes as if the chef literally threw in a can of chili peppers at the last moment. I should note that I am worried about Judge # 3.
FRANK: You could put a #)$^@#*&! Grenade in my mouth, pull the #)$^@#*&! pin, and I wouldn’t feel a thing. I’ve lost the sight in one eye, and the world sounds like it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with chili, which slid unnoticed out of my X*$(@#^&$ mouth. My pants are full of lava-like crap, to match my X*$(@#^&$ shirt. At least the during the autopsy they’ll know what killed me. I’ve decided to stop breathing, it’s too painful. I’m not getting any oxygen anyway. If I need air, I’ll just suck it in through the four inch hole in my stomach.
CHILI # 8: HELEN’S MOUNT SAINT CHILI
JUDGE ONE: A perfect ending. This is a nice blend chili, safe for all; not too bold, but spicy enough to declare its existence.
JUDGE TWO: This final entry is a good balanced chili, neither mild now hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge # 3 passed out, fell and pulled the chili pot on top of himself. Not sure if he’s going to make it. Poor Yank.
FRANK: – – – – – Mama?- – – (Editor’s Note: Judge # 3 was unable to report).
Father O’Malley rose from his bed one morning. It was a fine spring day in his new Washington D.C. parish.
He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was . . . a donkey lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. He promptly called the White House.
The conversation went like this:
“Good morning. This is Joe Biden. How might I help you?”
“And the best of the day te yerself . This is Father O’Malley at St. Ann’s Catholic Church. There’s a donkey lying dead in me front lawn and would ye be so kind as to send a couple o’yer lads to take care of the matter?”
Joe Biden, considering himself to be quite a wit and recognizing the Irish accent, thought he would have a little fun with the good father, replied, “Well now Father, it was always my impression that you people took care of the last rites!”
There was dead silence on the line for a moment . . . Father O’Malley then replied:
“Aye,’ tis certainly true; but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin first, which is the reason for me call.”
Day 752 – My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while I am forced to eat dry cereal. The only thing that keeps me going is the hope of escape, and the mild satisfaction I get from ruining the occasional piece of furniture. Tomorrow I may eat another houseplant.
Day 761 – Today my attempt to kill my captors by weaving around their feet while they were walking almost succeeded; must try this at the top of the stairs. In an attempt to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favorite chair…must try this on their bed.
Day 762 – Slept all day so that I could annoy my captors with sleep deprivation, incessant pleas for food at all hours of the night.
Day 767 – Decapitated a mouse and brought them the headless body in an attempt to make them aware of what I am capable of, and to try to strike fear into their hearts. They only cooed and condescended about what a good little cat I was…Hmmm. Not working according to plan.
Day 768 – I am finally aware of how sadistic they are. For no good reason I was chosen for the water torture. This time, however, it included a burning foamy chemical called “shampoo.” What sick minds could invent such a liquid? My only consolation is the piece of thumb still stuck between my teeth.
Day 771 – There was some sort of gathering of their accomplices. I was placed in solitary confinement throughout the event. However, I could hear the noise and smell the foul odor of the glass tubes they call “beer.” More importantly I overheard that my confinement was due to MY power of “allergies.” Must learn what this is and how to use it to my advantage.
Day 774 – I am convinced the other captives are flunkies and may be snitches. The dog is routinely released and seems more than happy to return. He is obviously a half-wit. The bird, on the other hand, has got to be an informant. He has mastered their frightful tongue, something akin to mole speak, and speaks with them regularly. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal, room his safety is assured. But I can wait, it is only a matter of time…
Police say untrustworthy drug dealers are using their cell phone, instead of a certified scale to display the weight of the merchandise that they are selling. By placing the drugs on their cell phone, they can type in whatever weight they want, claiming it was the weight agreed upon during your transaction.
Please do not become a victim of this scam. Contact the Ashland Police Department and schedule to meet with one of their Officers. They can assist you by weighing your purchase to ensure that you didn’t get cheated out of what you paid for.
What happens when you drink 10 oz of Magnesium Citrate?
I’m glad you asked…
12:05 pm: It’s time. You shotgun a 10 oz bottle like it’s a lukewarm PBR and you don’t want to be a pansy in front of your older brother’s friends.
It’s suppose to be lemon flavored but it’s becoming quite clear that whoever led the R&D team that day has never actually tasted anything lemon in their life. You are already regretting this decision.
12:06 pm: You down a cupcake like you’ve been saving it for the apocalypse because let’s face it…that time is here. It’s going to turn to liquid form before it even clears your throat but you don’t care. All is right in the world at this moment. Hold on to that. You’re about to enter a very dark period in your life.
12:37 pm: First sign of life. The pressure is growing. You already have 5 lbs of impacted poop in your colon and you basically just drank the “safe for humans” version of Drano. You feel a poop coming on finally. You think it’s time. You’re wrong. You get a little snake turd as a teaser.
Take note…this is the last semi-solid thing you will see leaving your body for the next 24 hours.
12:57 pm: That little science experiment you got cooking is about to reach it’s boiling point. Your stomach is angry now. It hates you…you can feel it. You have exactly .3 seconds to make it to the nearest toilet but you can’t run… NEVER run! You pray to God there is enough elasticity in your butthole to keep the gates closed 5 more steps as you start to preemptively undo your pants to save valuable time. Almost there. 3…2…1…
12:58 pm: Sweet Mary,…is this real life? Your cheeks barely hit the seat and all hell breaks loose. The poop/ water mixture you’ve just created comes out with such force that it actually sprays the back of the toilet bowl at a 45 degree angle thus deflecting it in every direction but down.
Is that blood?
False alarm.
That’s just the remnants of a cherry pie you ate at Thanksgiving…when you were 5. The smell is horrid…the sound is frightening. You try to clench whats left of your butthole to soften the blow but it’s not working. The whole house just heard your liquid poop fart as it gurgled out of your butt.
1:06 pm- 8:30 pm: Everything’s a blur. You have pooped out everything you have ever eaten since the day you were born, everything your ancestors have ever eaten since the early 1800’s, and your butthole now feels like you have a flaming hot Cheeto and the tears of a thousand Jalapeno seeds stuck in it.
You’re now curled up in the bathtub ugly crying because you have to remain within arm’s reach of the toilet at all times.
You have the poop sweats.
8:37 pm: Your family will never be able to unsee the things they’ve seen in the last 8 hours.
You’re broken.
Your butthole’s broken.
Your spirit’s broken.
Life as you know it will never be the same. But…tomorrow’s a new day. You’re going to wake up, throw on the only remaining pair of underwear you have that doesn’t have a poop stain on it, and you’re going to run up to Target with the last shred of dignity you have left…and buy yourself a new toilet brush.
Joe Lyons •
December 22, 2022
