April E. Brucker's Blog, page 51

What The American Solider Means to Me

Every year on Memorial Day I write a blog about my love for the American GI. When one thinks of the American GI they think of a thousand things. First and foremost, they think of liberators. There have been people cheering when the American GI’s have come into their villages to free them from some tyrannical dictator who has shot people in the streets for opposing views. People also think of GI Joe, an American hero and action figure for young boys. My brother had one, and during the times he was forced to play Barbies with my sister and I, usually as a punishment for breaking something with his slingshot or water gun, GI Joe was always the plastic gentlemen bringing flowers. Unfortunately Barbie wasn’t a fan of his Rambo like killing tactics. Yes killer is also a what goes along for some when it comes to the American soldier. Whether it is the unfortunate Mai Lai Massacre or the incidents of troops torturing prisoners in Iraq, the term has gotten a negative connotation. In addition, GI is actually obsolete. It means general issue. Yes, and many men and women in uniform do not feel they are general issue. These days, according to Colin Powell, sailors want to be knows as sailors and Marines want to be known as Marines. Fair enough I suppose. Memorial Day is a wonderful holiday that unfortunately only comes once a year. It is the time we remember those who died in foreign wars. The rest of the year we seem to forget about those young men and women who lost their lives in combat. As a comedian I often find myself in debates over what free speech means. Meanwhile, there were men who lost their lives on the battlefields of Lexington and Concord rather than bow to a king so I could have the right let alone make the debate. These days we argue politics on facebook all becoming computer chair pundits. Yet as we pontificate we forget the minute men being slaughtered in the hot, New England sun in wool uniforms. That is bravery, spewing opinions on facebook is not. Because of their sacrifice we can civilly overthrow our rulers every four years. We can say something is wrong with the government without being jailed. However, we never give the first patriots a thought whenever we freely espouse our opinions on a social networking site. Every election we think of what it means to be an American. We argue what it means to be a citizen of this great country. Often times we get selfish with our social causes. Politics becomes divided and people because of it. In our self-centered fear, we neglect the memory of the Civil War, a time when American soil was red with blood from a conflict that pitted brother against brother. We must remember that while we can have our differences as Americans, we must come together as one when it is all over. If the loss of the lives of these young men taught us nothing but that, so be it. The American GI brings this hope and oneness every where they set foot from the beginning of the United States and her prominence. In the World War I, America and her soldiers helped end the power of monarchy and divine right in the Western World. We showed them that there could an easier, softer way where people had equality, rights, and a voice working in cooperation with the government. World War II saw America and her soldiers defeat Adolf Hitler and the evil Nazi cause as they liberated those deemed untouchable from concentration camps. In Japan, there is the memorable photo in Iwo Jima, young men who could be no more than eighteen or nineteen, raising the stars and stripes. These are America’s sons. Young men doing monumental tasks and representing something much bigger than they could ever dream of being. This is who the American GI should be as he journeys overseas. Of course there is Korea, the war we skip over in school. While these veterans are forgotten most of the time, we should remember them today and the message of freedom that they carried. We should remember their lives lost. They too are heroes under the red, white, and blue. When we talk about foreign wars we cannot help but bring up Vietnam. To say the very least it is the black mark on America’s record. Perhaps a failing and a mistake. Because many felt this way, the Vietnam Veterans were disregarded like common trash. As a result they fell prey to homelessness and drug addiction. I feel this same way about the current US Conflict. However, I also want to point out that while I don’t agree with the cause I support the troops. Over the years I have received many fan letters from American soldiers overseas and have been blessed to have many in my audiences. They want to laugh, party, and have fun. More than anything though, they risk their lives to raise the flag. This is why it is okay to not support the cause but you must always support the troops. America, despite it’s problems, is still the greatest country in the world. Again, it is the blood shed from young men probably no more than eighteen so we can have this right to say something is wrong. These men and women are risking their lives. Treat them with dignity and respect. Colin Powell wrote a beautiful article several years ago in Time Magazine about the American GI. He wrote about how we no longer use the term, yet how it still applies. He tells a touching story about how a Japanese American businessman was in an internment camp as a young boy, another black mark on the American record, and he was crying. A GI who was guarding these American citizens took pity on the young lad and gave him a Hershey Bar. The young boy, who had been ripped from his home forcibly due to the post Pearl Harbor xenophobia, appreciate the gesture of kindness. Years later he told General Powell the story. Upon hearing this, Colin Powell purchased a Hershey Bar for the man who broke into tears upon receiving the gift. Maybe the GI isn’t always carrying out the best orders, but if he is truly a representative of the flag he treats all he meets with dignity and respect. He also believes in protecting the innocent, even if the innocent party is a child who happens to be enemy color. The definition of what it is to be an American GI let alone an American soldier is always progressive and changing. In the Civil War, freed slaves fought alongside Union troops during several major battles. However, color barriers were not truly broken until the second World War. Blacks and whites fought together to win a war, and showed America that we could live as one in peace. Now women are joining the ranks not just as enlisted people but graduating as officers from military academies. Not only are they bringing themselves bravely like their male counterparts to the front lines, but also adding their perspective and unique brand of leadership to command positions making the US stronger overseas. Now that Don’t Ask Don’t Tell has been lifted, LGBTQ people can proudly serve their country being a proud American but also not hiding who they are, which is what it truly means to have freedom. Their understanding of this concept as well as equality will add another positive dimension to leadership in the armed forces as well. In the words of the Declaration of Independence, “All men are created equal.” American soldiers died for these words, and now we expand the definition so not only many have rights overseas but also in our own backyards. When I think of American GI I think of those I know. There were both my grandfathers who served in World War II in Japan. While I have never met my dad’s father, who died before I was born, I have heard my mother’s father talk extensively about the war. My Pop Pop says that while the Japanese were “enemies” they were hardworking people who never showed animosity after the atomic bomb. Rather they were willing to work with the US to clean up the country. Pop Pop spoke about the kindness he experienced from the Japanese people themselves and spoke about how their value of hard work and family stayed with him, even upon coming back to the US. I also think of my late Uncle Gregory Columbus Diffendale. Yes, he loved dirty jokes and swore like a sailor. However, my dearly departed uncle also drove through Germany “killing them fucking Nazi’s.” A real life version of the Ingolorious Bastards, he and his buddies would load their bodies in the back of a truck and just keep driving. My uncle was there when the Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals and others deemed unfit were liberated. While he always had a sense of humor that could be deemed offensive, when my uncle was boss of the dairy he gave jobs to deserving people regardless of their race, ethnic background, or faith. It was because he saw how destructive hate could be, and knew there was more to a person than exteriors. I also think of Bernie, my Uncle John’s brother. A Vietnam Vet who came back from the war with PTSD, he got hooked on drugs. Over the years he provided my family members and I with a colorful story or two from his brushes with the law to dating hookers and everything in between. While the tales are colorful, this is a testament to the fact that Americans should treat their veterans better, especially the government. If there had been programs in place to help him maybe he would have taken a better path. I cannot forget my friend Dave Rosner aka Full Metal Foreskin, a Jewish Lieutenant Colonel in the Marine Corps. When not on active duty, Dave performs standup comedy. He has served in the Gulf War as well as the current Middle Eastern Conflict. In addition, he has put on shows for US Troops as well as Veterans. Whether he is appearing at your local comedy club or on Fox News to give military insight, Dave brings his endless energy and positive attitude to any situation. Hey, not everyone can be a Lieutenant Colonel let alone a Jew in the Marine Corps. On that list of heroes I cannot forget Russell Kurtz, my classmate who was killed in action in Iraq. Russ played football, was popular, and most of all was liked by everyone who crossed paths with him. I don’t think he had an enemy in the world. After high school he expressed interest in being in the army, and was immediately deployed to Iraq. According to his mother, despite the fact he was in the middle of the desert, he never complained about the heat. He only wished they served better food. Unfortunately, he was killed while his jeep was driving over a land mine. Russ was twenty years old. Same with those who lost their lives in other wars who’s names I do not know. However, Russ’s name and face give them all a human identity and voice. They were someone’s brother, son, cousin, father, etc. Last but certainly not least I think of Antonio Sandoval, Jr. He was my POW/MIA. Purchased as a gift for me by my brother for my seventeenth birthday after 9/11, it was a token that showed my love for America. Antonio Sandoval was from Southern Texas and captured in Vietnam. I wore his name on my wrist because they never found him in hopes that someday they might. My mom told me he was probably dead like so many young men from that generation. This was typically the case of a POW that was never found. Years later, his remains were uncovered in what was once a Cambodian prison camp where he met his end at nineteen years old. I know his end was gruesome. Eventually what was left of him was returned to his family who gave him a proper burial. Sure he might gone, but what he did as well as what other young men like him matters to me. And it should matter to any and every living, breathing American. The list of names goes on, not just for me but for all of us. We all know someone who has served and also, someone who has lost their lives. Most importantly, we know the extent they went not just to honor and serve but what they represented. Today we honor the GI, the soldier, the sailor, the fighter pilot, the Marine and whatever else he or she wants to be called. Whatever gender pronoun they might want to go by. Either way, they represent by great nation changing for the better.Today I salute you!
LoveI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

Leap of Faith: An Artist's Journey

There are times when the path of an artist is dark. On a path one takes when their gift is playing an instrument, writing a riveting story, performing a moving monologue, singing a flowery aria, telling a joke, painting a beautiful picture, sculpting a lifelike figure, whatever…..it is unsure.
Parents often say, “You are so bright. Why don’t you just use this as a hobby?”
Friends will tell you, “I wish I were as brave.” And then silently feel sorry for you as they go home to their bed, and yes they own a bed, and positive balance in their bank account.
Lovers will say, “Listen, the dream isn’t real. It only happens for one percent of people.” And if you are a man the lover will admonish, “I want  a partner who will make a steady living because I want to have children.” If you are a woman your lover will jab, “Look, lets get real. You aren’t exactly Angelina. Your little hobby is fine but what about my needs?”
This bending over backwards for a world that doesn’t always welcome art isn’t easy. There are times when you are passed over because of the way you look. Because you are a woman. Because you are a man. Because you are black, white, brown, a Smurf. Sometimes you look at your bank account and scream and the skies get darker. Then you wonder, “What the fuck am I doing with myself!”
It goes through your mind. You should have listened to your parents. You should have really put more time into math class. The journey didn’t involve learning how to pour beer, do power point, or hand out fliers on the sidewalk. This is when it starts to get dark and it is easy to throw in the towel. Especially when some people seem to make it with no effort whatsoever.
There is an old saying: “Easy come, easy go.”
What I am trying to say is hang in there. Gene Hackman struggled for years as an unknown in theatre before he won Academy Awards and he is perhaps the most brilliant actor of our time. Not only is he talented, but you can’t take your eyes off of him. JK Rowling was living in squalor when she wrote Harry Potter and was piling up the rejection letters. Now it is perhaps one of the most read books in the world. Madonna was considering quitting show business right before “Everybody” became a number one single. I don’t think she would have made a very good Michigan housewife. Mind you she was so broke she was eating food from trashcans. Bette Midler had doors closed in her face because of her weight and size. However she was going to give up as well before someone suggested she do shows in the gay baths. The rest is history. Louis CK struggled for years as a comedian and actor in obscurity. The son of a single mother never gave up on the thought of reaching into the television and making the world better for the woman that raised him. Not only is he successful, but he is a standup icon. Those who had the breaks come easy during the times of those listed above, we don’t remember them.
One of my darkest times was around the time I was twenty four/twenty five. The market had popped and a TV show I had filmed was shelved. I did a daring television appearance that was daring, and closed some doors. Years later people tell me Springer was an idiot. Then it was cool to be on TV but other than that, not much else happened. I was broke and at the time a roommate of mine was having a nervous breakdown over a guy. A good friend of mine, who had been drug free for years, relapsed and we had a falling out. He lost his battle and I never told him that I loved him, not what he was doing to himself. When it rains it pours and the shit was coming down quick.
I also had a series of fainting spells. They were scary because I didn’t know why I was getting them. I remember being afraid I had a brain tumor. My mom feared I was suffering from epilepsy that was an onset of an injury I had when I was younger. When I sat down and spoke to another friend about the spells it was revealed that I was harboring a lot of anger. Anger that it wasn’t my turn and that my dreams weren’t coming true. Angry at life. Angry at people. Angry at everyone. This friend suggested that I had to learn to accept people and things for who they were. But also, if I wanted to create my own work, why not do it? And while I was in that vein, why not have a better attitude? After that conversation when I began taking action, the fainting spells stopped.
Soon I started performing and produce my own one woman shows. I created an open mic to my liking where free speech was the rule and cliquishness not allowed. I got up wherever I could and pursued stage time like a junkie does a needle. I was still running with the herd though. That is when I met my friend Joe Cannava. At the time I got a job writing for a rag. My column was basically about the morons I dated. Joe, who worked as a celebrity personal shopper and was an artist told me the he had always wanted to be a writer. So I showed him my column. He called it drivel and told me I should have been writing about my job as a singing telegram person. Joe told me to write a book about it. My mom had wanted me to do it for years and I told her she was crazy. Joe wasn’t letting up though and I would lie to him and tell him I was chugging along on my book. One day I just decided to do it.
That summer, I wrote my book. I lived on the fourth floor with no AC in a cramped studio sharing it with someone else. She was having a breakdown over a man, yes the same man again, and I was writing. When I wasn’t typing away I was writing on scraps of paper during train trips to telegrams or gigs. I had been a writer all my life but had never written a book. Almost five hundred pages later and a shitload of typos, I had my first draft.
When I wasn’t doing that I found myself producing puppet webisodes where my guests included Michael Musto, Harmonica Sunbeam, Melba Moore, Diana Falzone, Jake Sasseville, Sabrina Jalees and loads of others. I found myself happy and most importantly, enjoying what I was doing.
Months later I got to do a television show with my puppet babies and lets just say the rest is history. I was asked to do the press tour which was fun. Some said I was crazy as a bag lady. Some said I was passionate. Either way, it seemed all the work had paid off and I was going to another level. The club I slaved for fired me. I panicked because no other club was picking me up. That is when I got a job with a web network and began producing content there. Oh and I recorded music and got a hit on the internet. So doors opened, just not the ones I expected.
As I rode the wave I found myself in some magazines overseas and getting lots of letters from young people. I found myself telling them to hang in there. That there dreams were worth it whatever they might be. I found myself telling them their thoughts were important. That is when I found the motive for my art changing and that showed not only in the redrafts of my book but in the final version. My motive was now to help inspire young people, to show them the journey as an artist was worthwhile and doable.
Since then the journey has changed in a good way. Has been much different than I expected, in a good way. I ended up publishing my book. Through the journey I ended up having my book featured on the Official Website of Britney Spears. In addition, it has been rated a Must Read by Mensa. My book is also in several bookstores and libraries. Recently, it became available as a paperback in Barnes and Noble. Through my travels and through the grace of something greater than myself such as the universe, I got a connection to a top notch recording studio and recorded an audiobook. That is coming out this summer.
As life stands I still work my day job, but I love my day job. It not only allows me to dress up in costumes and act crazy getting paid for it, but it makes me a better performer. The standup spots are getting better. Those that the career came easy to are now fading into thin air disappearing, and I am beginning to get the recognition I have worked years for. The difference is mine will last whereas theirs never did because it came easily. Yes, I still continue to bitch and moan about being a woman in comedy, but while I battle on I win the war. It is by making my mission about reaching others and not about pleasing myself.
Do I have waves where I panic these days? Oh yes. The panic always sets in when your phone rings. Julianne Moore even has that panic as an established actress. She spoke about it in an interview. However, these days I work through the panic in a different way. I take classes and have connected with some wonderful teachers. Through that network, I meet other people. In addition, I get onstage with my notebook. While it might not always be in front of people who can give me a job, it gets me unstuck. Chris Rock still does it. I also start on a new project, create my own work. But I also call on a network of not just friends but family members who are also artists: from my painter cousin Peter, my painter uncle Kent, my dancer cousin’s Lindy and Mara, or my musician cousin Bobby.
As of this weekend, I will be doing a book signing at Brown University Bookstore with my brother and sister, Bill Brucker, MD/PhD ’13 and Brenna Brucker, MD ’13 through PACE. PACE (Providence Alliance of Clinical Educators) is a nonprofit started by my brother to bring science education to under privlidged high school students. In their materials, they bring humor to science education through a series of educational comic books for children. While my brother and sister are not taking the artistic path, my brother was a cartoonist for years at Brown and my sister is published poet as well as visual artist. The event is a must for those who want to pursue a career as a writer, artist, or wants to use creativity through education. Either way, the three of us are using our gifts to make the world a better place in our own way.
I don’t know what will happen this weekend, or even after this weekend. Two magazines expressed interest in doing a story on my book. Another website wants to review it. My audiobook will be out soon as well. Who knows what is next. Either way, on this creative journey I must have faith. I wasn’t taken this far in order to be droppedLoveAprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be squareis far in order to be dropped.

Adventures of Spooky Juice: Hell's Kitchen Super

My Super Spooky Juice is at it again. I haven't had an adventure with this upstanding gentlemen since my vacay to Myrtle Beach with my family. Nonetheless, Spooky still wants his sugar. The latest development is that he is deathly afraid of black lingerie and that is why I am trying to invest in it.

Well it is spring and Spooky Juice is more ornery than ever. This is how today's exchange went:

Spooky Juice: You look so good.

Me: Why thank you, Spooky Juice.

Spooky: You look so good that this is mental torture for me.

I laugh

Me: Well Spooky, I am sure I don't look that good. Stop thinking so hard.

Spooky: I have been playing around with this spy cam lately. Want to see?

Me: I am not sure I want to know.

Spooky: Relax it's not pornography.

Me: With you I never know.

Spooky: Look at this guy dancing without music.

Spooky turns on the camera. Spooky is dancing like Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire.

Spooky: See me dance

Me: You are such a bad dancer.

We both laugh

Spooky: What color underwear are you wearing?

Me: Black.

Spooky: If it was black I could see it. Tell me the truth or I won't show you any more of my dancing videos.

Me: Now Spooky, don't make promises we both know you can't keep.

Spooky and I laugh

Spooky: I read your blog. You like being single. You said you wanted a vibrator. Let me be your vibrator, baby.

Me:Thank you for the generous offer but I have to pass.

Spooky and I laugh. End scene.

Truth be told last night some fat drunk dude approached me on the street offering me anal. Spooky was slightly smoother. I will give the man that much credit.

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square
 

Random Purge on Paper

This morning I woke up. I went for a jog and forgot my Yankees cap which is rare for me. It is my staple clothing item. I am not real girly. I wear makeup only when I have to these days. I have been busy prepping for my book talk and such. I am turning more and more into a female writer. Yes it is happening. Female writers cease to care how they look sometimes. Make that always. Either we are buttoned up like Carrie Bradshaw or look like they are about to gas themselves like Sylvia Plath. Right now I look more like SP.

I am at the time of year where it is always the weird time of year for me. My attitude gets weird. People get weird. Everything just gets weird. I have had some weird run ins with people from my past. I don't know how I feel about them and don't care. It's just blah.

On the other hand it is starting to get warmer and I want to take more classes at my gym. I kickbox and might pick up pilates again. I also might do this other dance class. Oh and I want to go to the climbing wall. Whenever I take an extreme exercise class my nutrition is usually pretty good. I eat well and rest. When I am just not as physically active I tend to eat junk and treat my body like a dumpster. Another place around the corner offers an adult gymnastics class. I might want to take that. I am not sure.

My audiobook will be finished next week. I am excited, nervous, and the works. This was my big winter project. That is pretty cool. YIPEE! My book is finally available as a paperback at Barnes and Noble. Praised be to God/Jesus/Allah/Frank the Pink Bunny and every other deity. My signing is at Brown this weekend with my guests Dr. Brenna Brucker and Dr. William J Brucker III. Okay, as of Sunday it will be official but they will be there Saturday with their books. The whole thing sort of came together in a cosmic kind of way that not only brought me up there but brought us together to be signing.

As for performing, that has been coming and going. I do spots in only places I want to. These days I am sort of past mics. I have been onstage long enough to know my way around, how to do a joke, and not to mention on TV more than most of the room let alone most of the scene. I did them for a bit as a way to stay sharp but they just sharpened my annoyance. I pop into some here and there that I like, but I shouldnt have to pay for stage time. Paid that due thank you. Of course this never stops male headliners from talking down to me when I do shows let alone bullying junior producers into bumping me but we won't talk about their tactics. When I go into it I get a chip on my shoulder and it grows into a cinderblock. Being angry isn't good for me and it makes me forget I like to make people laugh. That is why I initially started doing comedy.

I have been blogging an awful lot about gender and women's issues lately. Maybe it is because in the past eighteen months they have touched me so completely. Maybe in my entire time on the scene I have seen the best and worst in men depending on the coin depending on the way. Maybe it is because I have been boxed in by both men and women-unable to breathe-so I can fit some dying standard. I hate labels. I feel they confine people and it is a way to crack down and make them behave.

What annoys me are women who think they need a man, and can't shut up about having one. No one likes you or your idiot boyfriend. Your boyfriend probably sucks in bed. Your boyfriend probably has no job. Your boyfriend, your boyfriend, your boyfriend. It's like these airheads can't do anything without the permission of their prison guard with a penis. So many times they have an opinion but change it for the boyfriend. Or then they need their boyfriends okay even to change their underwear it seems. You come in this world alone. You leave alone. That is, unless you are a follower of Jim Jones.

This morning I hung out with a crossing guard friend of mine. We talked and ended up hanging out in the community gardens. She has a key. I want a key. I think hanging out at the community gardens as well as my fitness classes will make me happy. Actually it will make me less of a bitch.

I have a zit on my chin. Maybe I will watch Co-Ed Call Girl again. Tori Spelling accidentally becomes a hooker. Not as good as the time she did that fall down the stairs followed by the lackluster scream bouncing off her fake ta tas. But it was still pretty good.


Love

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square

Woman, Womyn, Gender Roles

Being a woman in today's world is a little bit of a trip. You have two people coming at you with two different school's of thought. One is that you need to have the education, the career, the money. Women's Lib happened for a reason and now take advantage of the fruits of the struggle. We celebrate smart women like Hillary Clinton, Sonia Sotomayor, Sally Ride an the list of smart sisters goes on. Here comes the kicker. We take swipes at their looks. We say Hillary has a bowling ball hair cut. Then we assert that Ms. Sotomayor might be a lesbian because apparently she doesn't dress like she reads Cosmo, as if that matters. Oh and they seem to leave Sally Ride alone these days but I am sure there is something. Then there are people who don't make it easy for a career woman. I have been called a bitch and I have been called selfish because I don't have the husband or the family.


The other school of thought is the old fashioned notion that as a woman you need to find the perfect husband, have the dream house, and then pop out the 2.5 children. There is nothing wrong with being a wife and mother. It just seems like some young women are so desperate to meet the deadline that they go crazy, and they marry a guy just for his money. While we may throw stones at Anna Nicole Smith, all women have a little of that in them. It is the way we are raised. Shows like the Real Housewives don't help this. As women it makes us wonder if the career and education is worth it? Why do that when you can bake cookies and get a TV show.

Sadly it seems the middle ground is Sarah Palin. It is sad because I despise her politics. However, people were saying she was an bad mom because Bristol got pregnant as a teen. Maybe she was, or maybe she was a career woman. Either way, there is a price when you have a career. There is the whole you can have both. I have rarely seen it work out, really.

The whole thing with women is that our biggest enemy is ourselves. It isn't the men of the world. Most of the time they could care less. We are so incredibly catty when it comes to each other. Until recently, I didn't have many girlfriends. Not that I don't get along with other women, I just don't like the games. Once I did an all women's comedy showcase and when one comedienne was onstage, the other women simply trashed her. They were like, "Oh, she is doing that joke again. That sucks. Then again, she sucks." And when she got offstage they patted her on the back and told her how great she did. It was as if they smiled and then knifed you in the back as they offered you tea. Needless to say I wasn't social with them for the remainder of the show and don't speak to any of those women now.

Women always try to one up each other too. When we size up other women we say, "Oh, she might be smarter but I am skinnier." Or then there is the, "Oh well she might be pretty but she is a real tramp." Better yet, "I have a better job and more money than that skinny tramp, and I went to a fancier college."

The thing with women too, is that they can get stupid over a guy. Oscar Wilde captures this perfectly in The Importance of Being Ernest, when fortunately it all happened to be a big misunderstanding. I have never been one to fight over a guy, but some women do. I have had friendships end with women because according to their paranoia their boyfriends liked me better. One in particular was a friend from back in the day who I liked, that is, until her boyfriend said I seemed cool. Never met the dude so it's not like I stole him. Next thing I know she was trying to block me from the plans with my friends and saying terrible things about me that weren't even true. I dumped her and I dumped that crew cause they were kind of stupid. But I told her that if I met her boyfriend maybe I would steal him out of spite. She was such a hell bitch she was making it easy for me.

Then another time I found myself in combat over a dude was an ex of mine who was a lawyer. He had a female best friend who was down on her luck that moved in with him. They were just friends, right? Not so much. Next thing I know she was acting like the third wheel every time we hung out. She insisted on coming on all our dates. At first I didn't mind because I liked her, but it got real old real quick. Then she always had some crisis and was always getting him off the phone when he was talking to me. When I would come over the house she would try to start fights between the two of us, and then pretend she wasn't. Oh and her dog always had a health problem that my ex had to drive it to the hospital for. Note the dog always turned out to be fine. I remember talking to a friend of mine who was a guy and he said, "She wants him and wants you out of the picture. They are in love and dont know it." For as much as it hurt I ended the relationship. Apparently, later I learned, she pulled the same shade with the girl before me. Some women would have given an ultimatum. Others would have beaten her head in. I just chose to go. It was the easier, softer way and I kept my sanity.

In college I took several Women's Studies classes. Usually these can be good or bad. I took one about Feminism in Theatre. My second class my teacher found out I did comedy and gave me an article about women in comedy. About how we use the mic as a phallic symbol. At first I thought it was academic mish mash but after talking to some of my peeps we all agreed. That is why when I am onstage I grip the mic hard. I am taking the world by the balls. I ended up loving the class and the playwrights I read. For as much as I think women can be catty as hell, I am actually proud to call myself a female comedian and writer.


I grew up with a mother who was a Title IX Crusader. In college, she was captain of her swim team. They had a sit in because the women's team was denied letter jackets. My mom always told us the secret to success in a man's world was never making it a big deal that you were a woman. I think this is why my baby sister and I are both going into fields historically dominated by men. My sister is going to be a doctor. Over the years she has gotten grants and scholarships. She graduated at the top of her class in high school and will win an award Friday for her work with nursing home patients. When I mentioned she was going to Vanderbilt one of my friends said, "That is a posh residency." On top of that the kid is a champion marksman.

During my journey in comedy I have been introduced onstage as, "This next comedian is a woman." Yes, they can see that unless I am a really adept cross dresser.

Oh and when I mention ventriloquism they say, "There aren't many female ventriloquists." I didn't notice.

My gender wasn't an issue for me really in comedy until I started to see television time. Some of my most vocal critics were male comedians who asserted that I did sexual favors to get on television. Others asserted it was because I was a "cute girl." I was like, oh you thought I was cute after all. But it was heartbreaking that in this day and age when a woman gets a break or two people still assume that. Then of course some pulled shady things in clubs by bullying people to bump me as such. I made the mistake of letting it exist as a chip on my shoulder that grew into a cinderblock. Truth be told, they don't speak for all guys let alone all comedians. Other guy comedians have told me how proud they were that my hard work was paying off.

But some of my most vocal critics were women. One had been an old friend of mine who was like a mom type when I started comedy. Over the years I found she was only your friend when you were below her or when she felt she could take from you. Things happened for me that didn't for her, and the tables turned. I was always supposed to be a lesser being. She blasted me on a message board calling me name after name. There were several things I could have told her, like get back on Weight Watchers. But I thought, nah, my success was punishment enough.

What gets me is a man's misunderstanding of a woman writer. I invited a guy I was interested in to a book event I was having. He asked if there would be, "Angry women like Sylvia Plath there." First off, Sylvia Plath is a brilliant poet. Second, why should it matter? Just because I am a woman writer where in my clause does it say I have to hate men? Needless to say we did not last long. And then there are the other women who think because I am a woman who writes and makes people laugh I have to be ugly. Just because I tell jokes and write books doesn't mean I have to look like I got my outfit from the bag lady on the street. I go to the gym. I am young. I have a cute little body. Shoot me for wanting to show it off.

In my journey I have done some activism. Some of it was as a result of something I experienced as a young woman, and just other things. During this journey I met the womyn. Yes, as in the hardcore feminists. I joined a facebook group and at first the people were pretty cool. Some were kind of nuts and did art with menstrual blood but it was all good. Others were bi-sexual vegans who wrote poetry. But then there were the extreme nutcases. One in particular was an older lesbian who had been a part of the movement early on. She started a thread trying to ban transwomen not only from the group but from women's (or womyn's) rights events. One transwoman logged on and this idiot kept calling her he and kept pointing out that the transwoman was a man and not a woman and needed to go. This transwoman was living and identifying as a woman, not to mention had gotten snipped in Singapore. I asked what the big deal was and this horrible creature kept going after this transwoman and claimed transwomen gave her a hard time. Yeah because you are a tool. And then she went after the younger women on the board saying that they kept with men-the bi-sexuals-and that they were traitors to the gay cause let alone women. I tried to explain to this hell bitch that sexuality was not fluid and I identified as straight. Did this make me less of a woman now? This went on for two days. Finally, I broke my own rule. This woman was so vile that I ended up using the "c" word. Yes, I called her a cunt. Actually I called her Ghangus Cunt. I usually hate that word and detest the roughness but this woman so mean and hateful that asshole, bitch, and mutherfucker weren't going to cut it. I was ultimately banned from the group for my "language." But I am glad. I don't want to belong to any group where she is a member.

What got me is the trans issue took away from the bigger issues like Congress wanting to change the definition of rape for their selfish pro-life cause. Or worse yet, not protecting a woman's right to choose. In there we need to add how to help victims of stalking, sexual assault, and domestic violence. When womyn argue that point it detracts from the real issues and wastes time. I think that's what I was truly disgusted with.

The funny thing about gender is gender is what is in your brain, sex is what is between your legs. That is why I am glad transpeople are getting more rights. When God or whatever gives you one brain and nature gives you another body it was be an unhappy marriage. That is why I firmly believe insurance should cover gender reassignment surgery. My brother ended up working with transgender teens during medical school. As an ex football player, it must have been a trip when he got the assignment. However, he ended up liking it and being compassionate to this group of young people. My brother explained that it was hard because the brain had one idea but again, nature gave them the wrong body. He and my dad were discussing this and my dad asked whether reassignment was better. My brother explained it was world's better.

I befriended a transman years ago who was a regular on my broadcasts on YouNow. During his time as a lesbian she was suicidal and depressed. When he made the change he was much happier. The only thing was he would fall in love quickly and it never ended well. But he was also nineteen. I also have shared the stage with transwomen. One I knew in her male days, the other after. The one who transitioned M2F told me creepy guys were checking her out. I just patted her on the back and said, "Welcome to the wonderful world of being a woman."

The crazy thing about gender roles is I have some male traits. In a lot of my relationships with guys, sometimes I am more the dude. The last guy I really cared about was much more emotional than me, and he cooked and cleaned. He was more apt to discuss his feelings openly and honestly. I didn't even want to go there. Oh and I knew more about sports than he did. Actually I know quite a bit about sports. I love football. I follow MMA. And while we are in the neighborhood I enjoy kickboxing and mountain climbing. My favorite sporting event is the Heismans. Hell, and sometimes I even read Playboy for the articles. I don't get jealous of the centerfolds. If you got the body go rock it. I detest the bridal showers and the such. My house is a mess. I don't cook well. Oh and I swear like a sailor.

My sister is sort of the same. While she is very girly, she is a champion marksman as I mentioned. She drives a car that is more like a truck. The kid is fearless about riding in an ambulance and even rode a helicopter during a life flight assisting a patient. Like me, she loves extreme sports and football. Heisman Trophy Ceremony is one of her favorite events. While she doesn't swear like a sailor or climb mountains, her favorite flicks are action flicks. She is straight forward and like me, wired more like a guy. My sister loves science because she likes facts rather than feelings. According to some we are guys.

Then go to my window. I use cardboard and other loose paper to help insulate my air conditioner. I write angry, pissed off poetry. Did I mention I am a total klutz with a screwdriver? My sister is slightly better but not much. We are both disasters with the drill. When one of my male friends saw my air conditioner he had a minor heart attack and then corrected it.

I am woman hear me roar.

Okay, only sometimes.

Sigh, who knows?


Love

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square

Water Fire

If you have ever been to Providence, RI, you have experienced the beauty of the water fire. They have them every summer. I have gone to several and loved them. I am going there this weekend to do a book talk. 

This is my poem about the Water Fire

Water Fire

Italian Music PlaysThrowbackSimpler timesFire crackles
Laughing and observingAt the passerbysGloating that everyone is lookingSuperstar
ProvidenceCapital City in a Small townEntwined into oneCobblestone streets meets gritty city feel
Cape Verde ImmigrantsMeet Nathaniel HawthorneAnd Roger WilliamsMeets a drag queen
Fire snapsReaches to breatheSearching for it’s pulseIn the night air
Fire licksSpits in ironyAt the loversKissing and licking on the gondolas
Fire laughsDances like a childFree and uninhibitedNo rules
Fire warmsBlanket against the late summer airEnding of hot sidewalksTo Autumnal New England
Fire GuidesAgainst the dark nightThe beacon to the lonelyThat there is hope
Brown Ivy LeaguersSure in their intellectual strideDiscuss liberal politicsOver iced cream
RISD girlsSwarm with their tattoosDesigns their ownBut amazed at the design of the night
Other college studentsLook for loveLook for themselvesLook for ideas
In the reflection of the waterReflection of themselvesAs the accordion playsAnd the man sings on the gondola
In the waterThey see mudThey see darknessThey see unknown
In the waterThey see themselvesThrough the lightThey see the path
To loveTo lifeTo libertyTo adulthood
Townies share their talesDrunken yarnsAbout the drunken townie girlsThey all share
Townies College kidsFamiliesLovers walk together
Fire and waterFriend and foeTogether for one nightThe main event

Live Girls, Man Caves, and Other Things

When Times Square was Times Square, they used to have flashing signs that said, "Live Girls." I have seen pictures of this. During my travels as a comedian when accidentally driving through a local red light district I saw the same sign, "Live Girls." Now the sex shops have moved to Eighth Avenue. They aren't quite the same. There are lots of porn vids like straight porn, gay porn, lesbian porn, mixed race porn, and of course tranny porn. One shop advertised "Live Girls" and explained they were on the upper level.

I remember going upstairs to see these "Live Girls." What did they mean? Was this like a menu at an eatery where they explained the fish of the day was fresh catch? Were the girls just sitting in the tank waiting to be caught with a huge net? And what did you do when you caught your lady? Did you bring her home and keep her in a cage? I know it sounds crazy but some people are into that. Or was it more or less you had to bait the line? I didn't see any fly fishers. I didn't know. Well I saw just these three women sitting upstairs chilling out. They were scantily clad and kind of on the saggy side. Their best days had passed them up and now they were receiving their paycheck in slimy quarters. The one even had cottage cheese cellulite. I was alarmed. Where were the fishing nets? No one had caught them yet. Or maybe they had been here since the eighties and people forgot about them. One asked me if I was lost. I just turned around and left. Maybe I should have come back with my hooks and nets to capture them. Then I could have told people, yes, they were swimming in a tank. Mermaids exist.

Another time for kicks a comedian friend of mine and I went to a peep show. We were both young and stupid with fifty cents and too much time. They still have them on Eighth Avenue. When we got in the booth it was some scantily clad woman being fucked by a horse. Was this a homage to Catherine the Great? Either way my buddy and I couldnt stop laughing? Was this for real. Man, some people were desperate. If your luck got that bad there was always craigslist. But she was a farm girl. Maybe she didn't have such a thing. We were promptly thrown out of the store because we couldn't contain our laughter. Afterwards we nicknamed the girl Stable Mable. I ended up talking to someone afterwards and they told me it turns some people on. Who? Do they wear a straight jacket?

What amazes me is how men and women are wired so differently. I was at a penthouse party once and ended up chatting with some folks in this dude's man cave. He had a pretty extensive Playboy collection dating back to the 1970s when the chicks had generous bushes. Yes, rose bushes. He was showing his guy friends some of the prints and I was like, whatever. Anyway, on his wall was a naked photo of a woman lying in a meadow. It was what is referred to as a tasteful nude. Yes, she was just lying in the meadow casually naked chilling out. She was just there waiting for a guy. She was happy as could be, just naked. The guys at the party wanted to know who did the shot cause the girl was "hot." The thing that went through my mind was that she was naked. Was it warm where she was? What if she had misinterpreted the temperature because it was sunny and was freezing her ass off, literally? Or worse yet. She was in the grass. What if it was muggy and mosquitos were biting her where the sun didn't shine? That would be an embarrassing visit to the doctor. Or worse yet. What if she got Poison Oak on her unmentionable regions? Explain that one to your gyno. These things must be thought of when one lies naked in a meadow. Just saying ladies.

To me it is always crazy what happens when men and women meet. Guys are always thinking, "She is hot. I wonder if she is a freak. Let me lean in and pretend I care about her hard day at work to find out."

Women on the other hand are thinking, "He has a good job and a promising career. In a month we will be exclusive, in six months committed, in a year I will have a ring. Two years I will be married. Oh wait until he meets my mom! She'll love him."

Bottom line, whoever thought of this was a little evil. Just saying.

What gets me about guys is they are so fascinated with lesbians. A lot of so called lesbian porn is created for straight men. It is usually two blondes with extreme penis envy. They just happened to be dressed in black lingerie and have DD boobas. Oh and of course the video cam is accidentally on and the dildo is ready. Or better yet, they are unsupervised Catholic School Girls. Oh and they want dudes to just jump in!

Truth, lesbians don't watch lesbian porn. I have had several Sapphic friends tell me this. Most of the time, if the scene were real, the book shelf /music collection would have probably Emily Dickinson or Ani DiFranco on it. One would be butch. The other would be more femmy. Maybe they would make love. Maybe they would snuggle. One or both might be aggressive vegans. Neither would have a Catholic School Girl Outfit or Black Lingerie. There might or might not be a dildo present and no camera would be on let alone present. Translated, they are together because they don't want a dude in the room. Get the picture horny men. And if you challenge them they might read you their Smith College or Sarah Lawrence Graduate Thesis on Gender and Society. What I am trying to say is that it isn't the orgy fest you think it is. Truth be told, the minute Ani DiFranco comes on I think the jig will be up. Oh fantasy.

I am convinced the male brain has three settings: sports, food, and sex. That is why football games have lots of action on the field, lots of junk food in the stands, and lots of boobas bouncing up and down in the cheerleader uniforms. Some have argued that guys are more complex. Eh, not really. Most of the time they will actually admit it which is kind of cool on their part.

What I don't understand is monogamy. I don't think it is natural. I think this is why people are unfaithful. There was once a study done that adultery started in the animal kingdom as a means to keep the species going. So to be with one partner forever is not natural. I have never thought so. Some people do it because the world tells them they have to. I don't know how I feel about that. Some people are designed for it. Some people not so much. I think these standards are unfair. That way people wouldn't be persecuted when they just wanted to stray. Most of the time it is nothing personal. Most of the time people don't love the one they stray with. They just have other needs.

I explained this to my mom. This was our exchange:

Mom: I disagree. Someone who can't stay faithful is an asshole who can't commit.

Me: That doesn't mean they are bad. I know plenty of good fathers who couldn't stay faithful.

Mom: They couldn't be that good.

Me: I just don't think monogamy is natural. Everyone should just have an open relationship.

Mom: Women will continue to be jealous. Men will continue to be possessive. People will continue to die.

Sigh. Maybe my mom has a point.

Love

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square

God is Dog

Yesterday I was in a mood. I was back from the beach and it was raining. Plus the last day of vacation had been really rough. We got news my grandfather was sick. He had been losing fluid and they took him to the hospital. Ordinarily, this would be no biggie except he is ninety-five. The one doc said my Pop Pop had just twenty four hours. The other gave him a week. Of course my mom is at the beach and is freaking out that she is not with her dad during this emergency. She would have left except there were no real flights out that day from where we were. Then they said something about sending my grandfather to Hospice and my mom was a wreck on the beach. We ended up calling my Pop Pop and she spoke to him. That was a good thing because it made her feel better. This was extra special because my grandmother had died only six weeks before. Of course last Sunday was Mother's Day and Monday would have been her parent's sixty third wedding anniversary.

We got some news that my grandfather was starting to fill with fluid, which my sister explained that his kidney's were working. Still it has been a rough spring for my mother. She lost her mother, broke her arm, and one of her jobs fired her because in between bereavement and injury she had a ton of subs. This pissed me off because my mom was good to these people. My mom is the sweetest, most gentle woman on the face of the planet. It hurts me when people are mean to her. However my mom kind of hated the job because it was on Saturday, and now she has her Saturday's back to spend with her dad. And then usually my dad goes and spends time with his mom and you get the picture. Aging parents.

In between all of that my sister and brother are graduating, finally, next weekend. I would have to say Brenna or the fictional Skipper or as I call her, Dr. Sco, is a good kid overall. She is a helpful, guiding, kind spirit who is going to work in the emergency room as a doctor in Tennessee. My brother Billy or the fictional Wendell is finally getting his MD/PhD. Both are my guests next weekend at my book signing. It is exciting and nerve wracking all at once. When I plan an event I am usually up for days and annoy everyone. But my sister is also promoting. I am teaching her how to promote which is pretty funny. We are talking daily on how to promote. Next weekend my mother might be wearing a chicken suit. My family is crazy I know.

On top of that I sometimes get hung up about how everything seems to be harder for me with my career. Some of it is because I have a prop. Some of it is because I am a woman. And what annoys me sometimes is when male comedians seemingly have their careers handed to them with little or no work at all. I know this thought is only somewhat true and they have things that they have to deal with on their end. Everyone does. But there is nothing like the joy of being slighted for a male headliner who hasn't been on TV in years because he is a bully. There is nothing like being hidden to the end of the show as not to offend the male headliner. There is nothing like a booker trying to sleep with you because he thinks you are an open pair of legs. Stay in the corner woman. Continue speaking your victimese.

Of course as a woman writer there are even more things I have to deal with. When it comes to other women writers there is a strike against me because I am not a whiner. I don't blame my father for all my problems. I don't bitch and moan about being unloved as a child. I didn't grow up in a shack. My book is funny. I like it when people laugh and smile when they read my work. Women writers always want this breakdown and want a Goddamn award for being a martyr. To tell you the truth, I really don't like women writers sometimes. Did I mention I am fluent in victimese?

Then again, when I am overwhelmed and have had a rough twenty four hours I really don't like anyone.

Just as I was about to run into someone so I could accidentally deck someone I decided to get some iced cream. Sure it would put weight on me making me go from a miserable bitch to a fat miserable bitch. Just as I was entering my house I saw my neighbor's dog Otis running down the stairs. Usually I pet Otis when I see him. But I was not prepared for this. Usually Otis is on a leash but maybe his owner had unlocked the door and he had accidentally gotten out. While I have gotten better, I am deathly afraid of dogs.

Yes I had a dog once upon a time as a kid. But when I had her she was old and feeble. Shortly after Snapper died I had a terrible run in with a friend's dog. This family had a dog they didn't train that would just bite people. While it never bit me it tried. I was eight and from that time on dogs and I just didn't mix. However there are two I like in my building: George and Otis. Both are gentle creatures and wouldn't hurt anyone.

Anyway, when my neighbor saw I was alarmed he quickly leashed his dog and apologized. Because it was quiet he assumed no one was there. I told him it was okay, Otis was a good dog. My neighbor could still see I was shaken. I ended up petting Otis and he commanded that Otis gave me a paw. It took a few times cause you know dogs. Anyway, finally Otis gave me a paw.

It was the sweetest thing in the world. It was like this dog was shaking my hand. This was so incredibly endearing. Any alarming feeling and and any fear of our canine companions I had melted away. The strain of the day before with my grandfather melted away. The April being her ambitious basketcase self disappeared. As for the miserable bitch, she had no place in this equation. Like the Wicked Witch of the West she melted. I didn't feel stressed about the signing event next weekend. It was going to be alright. I was going to be alright. I had Otis and I was shaking his paw.

I complimented my neighbor on how kind his dog was and how well behaved. Of course Otis is a big bull dog so it was pretty funny. My neighbor informed me now Otis and I were friends and he would protect me always. Then my neighbor, who is gay, told me I looked pretty. I know he wasn't lying which was cool. And it was nice of him to say. Not to mention I am now in love with his dog.

Off Otis went for his walk and suddenly I felt better. It is amazing how animals are smarter than humans on so many levels. It's amazing how they know how to get to our hearts. It's amazing how we complicate our lives and they do something silly not only making us smile, but making us realize that it isn't that serious. Maybe they don't talk, but they know.

I once met a man in my travels who was kind of whacky who said, "I don't like a lot of people and would much rather spend time with my dog."

There were only two times I ever saw my dad cry. Once when his older sister passed away, and the second when our family dog passed. My dad is a man's man. But Snapper was their first child. She was with them when my dad completed law school and then was around the house when we were born. Snapper always had free reign. Although they put her to sleep, she was so sick she couldn't move.

People are protective of animals. They want to throw the book at people who hurt them. I used to think animal rights people were crazy but now I understand. Who would want to hurt Snapper? Who would want to hurt Otis?

I think I want a dog someday. I think it would make me feel better. Not just to have someone else in the house, but also, why not? Dogs are man's best friend. They never leave you for a prettier owner and when the sky seems dark they let you know it's gonna be alright.

I am not preaching religion. I don't know what is upstairs. It could be Jesus. Maybe it is Allah, perhaps Buddah, or He Who Walks Behind the Rows. But I suppose there is a reason God spelled backwards is Dog.

Love

Love

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square

Peanut Gallery

Just a poem I wrote about my haters. And about how they will never be me.....

Peanut Gallery
Come and see me
As you sit in your peanut gallery
Name your price
But to pick is free

Cheer and jeer
Make up a lie or two
Say you know me way back when
The world will believe you

Cheer and jeer
Come and pick
Say I was a freakshow on reality TV
Decry the world for being sick

When really what you decry
Is that it wasn't you that was seen
Forever damned to claw for your dreams
Behind a computer screen

You spot it you got it
That's what they say
Call the Playboy Playmate a whore ladies
And wash your past away

Scape and rape with your words
It's okay to throw stones
When her body looks better than yours
The insults are the only thing you can own

Spew your hate via "social commentary"
Read it on page three
No one is coming to see you
In the peanut gallery

Yes, you have no talent
Yes, you have a spineless, codependent man
But ladies you can spit your venom
It's the only weapon that you can

Use to spread your hate and lies
About someone you do not know
About a life that you wish you had
Sit back enjoy the show

Yes artists who have no charisma
No magic behind the mic
You can say she did a sexual favor
It make you feel like

You have control
As you throw your soul in the middle of the ring
You accuse her of selling her soul
When she did no such thing

You say no one screams my name
And I have a delusion of fame
When all your hate talk
Only adds gasoline to the flame

Say I am no one
Spread it across the land
But you are making me a bigger legend
Than Candy Man

Say it about all of us
We did nothing to you
Aside from reach for the stars and get them
And then we turned the screws

We dance fast into the wind
Fast and fast as we can
Spreading sugar plum drops
Just like the ginger bread man

These are myths that surround our legend
Transcend the names you call
We rise above into the cosmos
And we cannot hear you at all

For as much as you yell
For all the picking from your end
When asked who you are we say
"Don't know them, sorry my friend."

Know this, you will never get to page three
We are stars shooting far
You, on the other hand,
Are damned to the peanut gallery

"I Have Morals"

I have run into women in my travels that are some serious sluts. The feminist in me hates that word. I more or less like sexually expressive. But I use sluts when referring to these women because that is who they are. I use the derogatory term because on top of being easy they are downright hypocrites. They are the kind of girls who dress in clothes that show you their ta tas and then act like they are selling their asses. That is when they say the phase we all detest, "I have morals."

I went to high school with this girl who was kind of goofy. She dyed her hair a horrific strawberry blonde color and had transferred in from the Christian school. Anyway, she had a habit of dating black dudes, and white meat and dark meat didn't mix where I grew up. People made fun of her constantly for this. Of course, she was having unsafe sex and had no plans of wrapping it up. So every month she was having a pregnancy scare again. At the time another friend of mine and I were reading a book by Aleister Crowley and she said she was worried about our souls. Meanwhile she is the one humping her black boyfriend who was getting arrested weekly without a condom. Not knocking chocolate, but the Bible sort of looks down on witchcraft and premartial sex the same. Oh and she was anti-gay, very anti-gay. I think she forgets once upon a time her boyfriend would be hanging from the tree for the felacio she was giving. Anyway time passed and she dumped him. She ended up dating another black dude who had just gotten out of boys home when they met. Guess who got knocked up and didn't finish high school? Well they have two kids and he has no job. Oh and she disfriended me on facebook for a pro-choice post I made. Now she has a whole page where it is pictures of her in hoochie coochie shots where her boobs are showing and her tits hang out. Not to mention she is parading around her beige babies and posts about how "God won't give her man a job." No, your man is just lazy. The best is she talks about how she hates Obama and actively campaigned for Romney because he was Christian. Newsflash Ho, if Romney got elected you and your mixed kiddies would be staff at his events. Oh and he would take away the food stamps and welfare your family lives on. (Yes, she actually posted about this). She says Lil Wayne needs a prayer. Of course this is after she not only posts a sleazy photo of herself followed by a Christian rock song. Yes, he might need a prayer but bitch you need a brain.

Second in line is the daughter of family friends. Her father and stepfather are great people but she is spoiled like rotten milk. Growing up she was always the pretty kid with the easy life until her ass got knocked up and she had to leave college. Her pops wanted to kill her baby daddy but I vouched for the dude because I knew him. They had a good relationship for a minute but she was a brat and drove him away. Yeah he didn't want to be married.....to you! Well I had no problem with the Little Princess turned Breeding Lump until one day I posted a pro-choice joke on facebook. It was harmless. Little Princess Turned Breeding Lump didn't think so. She went on a huge rant about how she chose life for her son because she believes in God and has morals and I had no right to say what I did and didn't know what she had been through, and Little Princess Turned Breeding Lump disfriended me! After I made sure her dad didn't kill her sperminator. Oh and not to mention she chose to have the child. It's not my fault her selfish ass regrets it. Then she gave an interview to a local TV station about how God helped her through her ordeal as a single mother. Meanwhile she completed college and her stepmom raised the kid! Oh and she made sure she told us her kid made the putrid finger painting in Bible School. And then she got a stupid role in some movie because her dad has connex and when they asked her if she did a topless scene she said, "No, I have morals." Meanwhile she did a scene where she had a softcore lesbian encounter on a trampoline with another woman. In another post she came out very aggressively against gay people. Oh and this is someone who had a child out of wedlock. Now she keeps a blog whining about the man she married and how her new baby has issues and how she has to see a therapist. Oh and God is guiding her and she says nutty things about Jesus. Maybe it is better we aren't friends. Little Princess Turned Breeding Lump is tiring. Perhaps her parents are lying and saying she was adopted. Sure she is a Little Princess Turned Breeding Lump that no one with half a brain could stand without an entire bottle of Jack Daniels. Sure she popped a baby out of her vagine out of wedlock. Sure she will not pose topless but will do a lesbian scene. But she is pro-life, attends a Bible Chapel, and has morals. Translated, she can be an asshole who has so much sex during high school that she probably banged her head under the bleachers while taking the high ground. Jesus says she can.

Of course last but not least was Kimberly, the Jets Cheerleader. Kimberly was vapid as the day was long. I mean, with a name like Kimberly what else could you do with yourself except wiggle and say stupid things. This walking set of exposed flesh would not have been so annoying except she was a Christian. When I met her I knew I was in danger because she said Taylor Swift lyrics were deep. Yes, Ms. Swift and the Backstreet Boys along with Beiber are breaking the intellectual barriers of Jim Morrison, NOT! Well I was chatting with some other folks cause it was a sports thing and dazzling them with my sports trivia. Kimberly Kim takes a stab and says my info isn't factual. I choose to ignore her because she probably does a spread eagle every week for some rich man. That was one of the way she made the squad. Well during the course of the shoot Kimberly says she is a Christian and has a special relationship with Jesus. Oh and then she comes down on Ben Roethlisberger and says he has poor morals. She says as a Christian she can't support him. Okay, maybe Big Ben does need work in that department but she is a cheerleader for the Jets. Essentially she poses in skimpy outfits, shows men her boobs, and isn't supposed to talk. Now we know why. Oh and the Jets are the most corrupt organization in the NFL. Rex Ryan sucks his wife's toes. Sanchez dates underaged girls. Comrarie has eight children with four different women and seldom pays support. Santonio Holmes drives brazenly under the influence, and coaches play on the sidelines cheating. Yes, the Steelers may have issues but the Jets have their own layer of hell if we want to play the moral game. But she was dumb so I just didn't get into it. Then Ms. Kimberly Kim told us she and her boyfriend, another follower of Christ, were moving in together. She too proceeded to say gays deserved AIDS. Pretty strong statements from a scantily clad woman living in sin. When I got home I googled Kimberly Kim and saw she was on the Jets calender in a bikini, with her hands in a suggestive place looking as if to slip the panties off. Of course she was on her knees poised for the touchdown money shot. Carrie Prejean much? I guess a blow job outside of marriage is okay because it is a straight blow job. And while we are at it, she can do whatever she wants. She has Jesus and morals. Oh and Kimberly Kim probably does anal. As we all know that doesn't count.

I am not knocking slutty women. May Wilson is slutty. I have met many porn stars and strippers and liked them. Some of my greatest friends have been whores and hustlers in the most technical sense. But they were my friends because they were true to who they were. They didn't front. They didn't take the high ground. They said, "This is me, take it or leave it." Oh and they had a sense of humor about it. If you asked them about God they would say they were probably going to hell. If there is a hell and my friends are there they better save me a seat. That way we can talk about all these Christians getting the flames after they get fisted by a demon. Hey, lying is a sin, right?


Love

AprilI Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Spring
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Greenpeace

PS. Book signing at Brown Bookstore Saturday May 25 from 4-6. Be there or be square