humor – Cajun Mutt Press

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 05/17/24

May 17, 2024 James D. Casey IV

Snippets of Dubious Wisdom # 4

I guess being born and raised
In an exotic land far away
Does affect one’s outlook on life.
Maybe that’s why East and
West coasters both think we
Midwesterners are a bit weird.

They say there’s a chance that
China may hit us with a nuclear
Bomb some day. That’s silly.
The Russkies done called dibs
On that years ago.

It is the normal procedure
In critical thinking to consider
Both sides of a case/argument,
Then, ignoring logic and truth,
Totally disregard one view and
Swear to god that the mind-set
You chose is the stuff of factual
History.

Mister Squashed Possum says,
“Crossing the road is easy.
Avoiding the traffic is the hard
Part.” (Flattened Bunny agrees.)

There have been times that
I’ve been called a fool. Then,
This fool realized that ‘fool’
Was just a matter of opinion.
Suddenly, I was no longer ‘the’
Fool but surrounded by many.

Faith

I wind up in this church
Where, for communion,
Everyone sips from a
Large communal cup.
After one takes a sip,
The priest wipes the
Rim of the cup and
Turns it a bit for the
Next person’s sip.
When the old lady
Just ahead of me
Left a string of slime
Dangling from the
Cup’s edge to her lips,
I figured that was it
For me. I’m not sipping
From that cup, even if
They wiped it with
Jesus’s underwear.
Underwear?

Born Curious

I was born curious
And, while being
Strapped in, I just
Had to ask the man
At the switch, if we
Were to be using
Alternating or direct
Current. No answer,
Just a spark, a hum,
And a frying sizzle.
Do I smell bacon?

Daniel S. Irwin (artist, actor, writer, soldier, scholar, priest) is still in hiding in the hills of Southern Illinois and doing a damn good job of it considering no one is looking for him. Which, in itself, is a change considering some of the things in which he’s been involved. Yes, no longer the gun-for-hire mercenary, smuggler, counterfeiter….don’t print that. Author of seventeen books, work published on-line, in magazines and journals world-wide. Latest work can be found on Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine, Beatnik Cowboy, The Asylum Floor, Rye Whiskey Review, and Cajun Mutt.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 02/26/24

February 26, 2024February 26, 2024 James D. Casey IV

I Think I’m Ready

When I die,
I shall go to
Heaven.
Unless I die
On a weekend.
In which case,
Just leave me
At the club
Until Monday.
Don’t wanna
Miss anything.

Always

There’s always
The possibility
Of what I say
Being misinterpreted
Or meaning being
Misunderstood,
Articulation and
Rancor being a
Regional and social
Underlying nuance.
It often becomes
A necessary
Inconvenience to
Have to follow-up
My rhetoric with
Physical action.
Whenceforth comes
The inability to
Clearly understand
The intended meaning
Of “Are you a natural
Moron, or did you take
Lessons.”

The Last Pussy

The last pussy I had
Came with a jealous
Boyfriend and his shotgun.
Fortunately, he showed up
After I’d left. I didn’t need
No confrontation. Snatch
Wasn’t all that good anyway.
I was just being a gentleman
Helping her over the blahs
Brought on by too much same.
Used to splash tequila on our
Dicks while whoring in Mexico.
I don’t know if it did any good.
I never caught nothin’ but my
Runnin’ buddy had to get the
Mallet smash to the penis to
Break up those painful pustules.
Good reason not to share women.
I have been thinking of changing
My ways and becoming a priest.
I have been wondering what the
Hell made me even consider that.
I know my processor is abnormal.
Head scan showed as much. I got
Those folds missing on the back
Of my brain. Slick like melon.
The docs thin it’s bizarre. Me?
I’m having another beer.

Daniel S. Irwin resides, for the time being, in the hills of Southern Illinois. Artist, actor (30+ stage plays, over 100 films), writer (work published world-wide), soldier (retired military), scholar (BA, MA, PhD), and holy man (ordained Dudeist priest 2007 – and damned proud of it). To date, seventeen books published (poetry and short stories), most recent book: Still Wanted in France. Latest work can be found on-line in Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, Cajun Mutt Magazine. The asylum from which he escaped does not want him back…ever.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 12/25/23

December 25, 2023 James D. Casey IV

My Christmas Poem

I bought this Christmas present
For the next-door neighbors,
Lovely couple. It’s one of those
Things two can share. I’m really
Hoping they make good use of it.
I could leave it on their doorstep
Or somewhere on the back porch.
If I dared, I’d sneak it in and put it
Under their tree like it’s from Santa.
I’ll probably just put it in the mail.
Fictitious name and return address.
Don’t want ’em to know it’s from me.
With all their endless fighting and their
Complementary totally belligerent
Attitudes, I don’t need them thanking
Me in person for the butcher knife.
Just settle their fuckin’ differences
And give us some peace on earth.

Daniel S. Irwin was born, raised, and is back in town at Sparta, Illinois. His card reads: Artist, Actor, Writer, Soldier, Scholar, Priest. He has won awards for his art, acting (over 100 films and 30+ stage productions), writing (nine books and work published in over one hundred magazines and journals world-wide), retired military (Air Force and Army), graduate of Southern Illinois University/Carbondale and has attended four other universities), and is an ordained Dudeist priest with a Ph.D. in Divinity (not bad for a heathen). Once worked as a medic in an institution for the criminally insane…but didn’t notice anything strange about the inmates. Latest on-line work can be found on Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine and Beatnik Cowboy. He would love to move back to Europe but fears the plague.

Check out Brother Dan’s permanent AD spots on CMP!

Writer Page
Actor Page

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 11/17/21

November 17, 2021November 19, 2021 James D. Casey IV

Breakfast at Lucile’s

It must be the old hippie in me:
camouflaged in a sports jacket
and whistling a show tune,
when I’d walk past beat cops,
carrying a lid to a friend’s party.

But entering our favorite
breakfast place, and seeing
three cops forking in eggs
and laughing at a story
one of them has just told,

the old fear bubbles up,
and I’m holding an ounce
of Panama Red, or that crumbly
Lebanese hash I loved,
the aroma beckoning
like the arms of a belly dancer.

I can’t stop glancing over,
fixated on the nights I prayed
their brothers wouldn’t suspect
I was high as the pigeons roosting
on the cables of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“What’s wrong?” Beth’s forehead
creases concern over her menu.
And as quick as I got stuck
in that time loop, I snap out of it:
old enough to see the police as allies,
and anyway, they’re decades
and decades younger than me.

Robert Cooperman’s latest collection is THE GHOSTS AND BONES OF TROY (Aldrich Press), which posits what if Odysseus came home at last, but with a horrific case of what we’d call PTSD.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/04/21

October 4, 2021 James D. Casey IV

Cheery-Eyed Jackdaws

Cheery-eyed jackdaws screech
The testament of change.
Mother Nature, like a dominating madam,
Clad in tight leather and chain,
Cracks her whip bringing the seasons
To heel in submission.
Spent summer yields to
The fickle days of autumn.
Forests burst into a splendor of color
Only to taunt us by slipping into
A dismal, bleak world reminisant of
A sick mind and severed ear.

On impulse, I dive headlong into a pile of leaves.
Laughing and thrashing about,
I am shocked back to reality when
Beaten with rakes by angry yard workers.
I had forgotten the second rule of leaf diving:
Thou shalt not dive ‘uninvited’
Into the leaf piles of strangers.
The first rule, I learned the hard way:
Thou shalt not dive into piles of burning leaves.

Damn you, Proserpina!
Could you NOT, at lest, TRY
The seedless grapes!

As I stomp on pomegranate after pomegranate,
With the on-looking super market night manager
Fumbling with his phone….calling God knows who.
I realize that it is all Pluto’s fault
And swear to kick his ass.
Mickey’s and Donald’s too, if need be.

Autumn…such a difficult time.
But, soon winter will follow.
Full of tomfoolery and too excited to wait for snow,
I pull off one of my shoes.
Pretending it a snowball, I throw it…
Knocking the hat off a policeman.
He is not amused,
But gives me a ride in his squad car anyway.

Daniel S. Irwin was born, raised, and is back in town at Sparta, Illinois. His card reads: Artist, Actor, Writer, Soldier, Scholar, Priest. He has won awards for his art, acting (over 100 films and 30+ stage productions), writing (nine books and work published in over one hundred magazines and journals world-wide), retired military (Air Force and Army), graduate of Southern Illinois University/Carbondale and has attended four other universities), and is an ordained Dudeist priest with a Ph.D. in Divinity (not bad for a heathen). Once worked as a medic in an institution for the criminally insane…but didn’t notice anything strange about the inmates. Latest on-line work can be found on Horror, Sleaze, Trash Magazine and Beatnik Cowboy. He would love to move back to Europe but fears the plague.