Special Talents

TALENT!!!

This is a performance by Kseniya Simonova, the winner of the 2009 Ukraine’s Got Talent. Get a load of this genius:

The American translation of Kseniya Simonova, in both name and title, is Kevin Skinner, the 2009 winner of America’s Got Talent. Get a load of this yokel:

Conclusion: America doesn’t have talent. Her performance is inspiring, groundbreaking, unique. His could take sixth place at a regional karaoke competition. There is an ocean between Kseniya and Kevin in both geography and talent.

And since I’ll probably never mention this show again, let me take a minute to address the judge’s panel. They’ve got David Hasselhoff, a man whose talents are only recognized in Germany; Sharon Osbourne: A Brit known only for discovering the excessively interesting and modestly talented Ozzy Osbourne; And the other guy: Who seems to be American but has evidenced no discernible talent.

I’m not sure any of these people could make a jury on talent, let alone a judgeship. I respect their judgment about as much as I respect the awful careers that led them here. Which maybe explains why they would give the top talent prize to an atonal, Animatronic inbredneck. America really does have talent. It’s just that, as a nation, our greatest talent is the ability to sell out ANYTHING. Ukraine’s version had greater talent but ours got better ratings and thus sold more Cheetos to fat, untalented people.

We sold out talent, y’all. What’s next? Sending Special Olympians in 2010? And we wonder why no one respects us anymore.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Japanese Poetry Week Continues (And Ends)

I had such a fun time playing with tanka yesterday that today I’m treating us all to a few prose pieces of the haiku variety. You remember haiku from middle school: 5-7-5 syllables. Feel free to count my syllables and call me out on my mistakes. I will gladly admit to them. And then hunt you down. Alright, yo. Haikuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Haiku, I’d like to Ride You
Haiku, I’d like to
Take you to a nice supper
Then maybe bed you.

We’ll start with a kiss
Then I will caress your neck
And feel your bosom.

I’ll slip off your dress
Lift you by your sweet round ass
Gently lay you down.

Then I’ll climb on top
Run my hands through your long hair
And massage your skin.

A lover’s embrace
Our bodies pressed together
I’ll penetrate you.

Slowly, lovingly
One syllable at a time
Until you climax.

You Have to Discipline Your Ham Salad
Ham Salad, you make
A better door than window
Sitcho pink ass down.

Watch your tone, Ham Salad
I brought you into this world
I can take you out.

I am serious!
Stop misbehaving at once!
Are you listening?!

Then I have no choice.
It’s too late for sorry now
Get the bread, Ham Salad.

Fruit by the Foot
If I were a girl
Banana in a condom
Would always trump cock.

Slightly under-ripe
Halfway from green to yellow
For added firmness

No small bananas
Only massive ‘nana rods
In both length and girth.

I’d peel off the top
Cause I prefer my fruit cocks
To be circumcised.

The Case of the Missing Cheeto
Hey, Mister, come here.
Where did you get that Cheeto?
It looks just like mine.

Strange coincidence.
Two such similar Cheetos.
No accusation.

I’m sure it is yours
Just looks VERY similar.
Lying sack of shit.

My name is Ben, I am a blogger and a poet.