I like my celebrities on TMZ

All vulgar and nasty and ugly to see

Not dressed up refined in Vanity Fair

Where everyone has such impeccable hair


I like my celebrities vile and repulsive

Like Mel Gibson embracing his lower impulses

Screaming in tantrums and murderous rages

Not like his smile on People’s gloss pages


Looking at mug shots of all that was innocent

Lindsay and Britney faking at penitent

Then mocking us all with a straight middle finger

At first they’re demur but watch for their stinger


Our daily routines only seem that much smaller

When even Tom Cruise can be photographed taller

None of us helped by Photoshop’s magic

We look at ourselves and see only tragic


Even Hugh Grant, his humor sublime

Was caught in a car with a tramp named Divine

We forgave him his trespass, gave him a sermon

No one compared him to sweet Pee Wee Herman


So please do not scoff when I turn on the telly

And watch as the icons lose their blush and turn smelly

My life, so it seems, is not bloody hell

At least when compared to Lindsay’s jail cell


The news of the world is too hard to take

Oil spills, wars, and the earth set on bake

So pardon me if I just turn the station

and ignore the pundits on immigration


There’s something I heard that I’ve just got to see

a photographer was punched stalking Angelina Jolie

his nose in a bandage but the photos a hit

‘cause beside her was someone who wasn’t Brad Pitt

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Billy Howard

Billy Howard

Billy Howard is a commercial and documentary photographer with an emphasis on education and global health.

5 Comments

  1. Hilarious and true…thanks for helping us laugh!

  2. Oh Billy, how hilariously true that all is. You must have read a lot of Dr Suess when you were a kid because you pull these off so seemingly effortlessly.

  3. Frank Povah

    And now, Billy Howard, you’ve done been and gone,
    And brought back to memory an old lowbrow song;
    ‘t’was popular once , though I recall not the key,
    (It’s a hillbilly piece, so I’ll settle for D);

    It’s all about moonlight and spittoons and such,
    And lazy old dogs not amounting to much;
    And just like your effort it brought on a smile,
    That made me forget all the crap for a while;

    Do you recall it? (Oh ain’t it a sin,
    I can’t find a way to sneak the thing in);
    Unless I resort to a ruse learned by rote,
    And in Paterson’s manner, slip in this quote:

    “Trouble ‘n misery, tears ‘n woes,
    Death ‘n taxes, and so it goes;
    ‘n I think I’m gittin’ a cold id de dose,
    Life sure gits tasteless, don’t it.”

    Oh bugger, I knew it, I just couldn’t beat ‘er,
    I’ve gone now and done it: screwed up the meter;
    But oh, let’s not worry, there’s worse things at sea,
    Think of nonverbs and nonouns anchors use on teevee;

    As for your mother who read Ogden Nash,
    To her wee infant son – well that’s showing clash;
    (I’ve been on the liquor, I can’t pronounce Shoosh,
    But for me it’s old Oggie who stirs up the juish).

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