Friday, March 2, 2007

dedicated to Cedric "Cornbread" Maxwell

A poem for sexist pigs:

“If anything I say offends you I’m sorry”

I can’t tell you how much this BS annoys me.

Stand by your comments and take the fall;

You are a big, tough manly-man, after all.

It’s a tough gig at times being a lady in sports

Cut us some slack and un-bunch your shorts.

Act too aggressive and they'll call me a bitch,

You don’t know from aggressive: I work with Mitch.

I’m not moody, a lesbian or even PMS-ing

Your comments are simply ignorant and quite frankly depressing.

If women had never got out of the kitchen,

You'd have no Gold Medals or chicks that are bitchin’

For every Hardaway and Maxwell you've got to spew bile,

I see you a Tewskbury and raise you a Heil.


Sandbox said...

I thought you would enjoy this....

In Celebration of My Uterus

by Anne Sexton

Everyone in me is a bird.
I am beating all my wings.
They wanted to cut you out
but they will not.
They said you were immeasurably empty
but you are not.
They said you were sick unto dying
but they were wrong.
You are singing like a school girl.
You are not torn.

Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
and of the soul of the woman I am
and of the central creature and its delight
I sing for you. I dare to live.
Hello, spirit. Hello, cup.
Fasten, cover. Cover that does contain.
Hello to the soil of the fields.
Welcome, roots.

Each cell has a life.
There is enough here to please a nation.
It is enough that the populace own these goods.
Any person, any commonwealth would say of it,
“It is good this year that we may plant again
and think forward to a harvest.
A blight had been forecast and has been cast out.”
Many women are singing together of this:
one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine,
one is at the aquarium tending a seal,
one is dull at the wheel of her Ford,
one is at the toll gate collecting,
one is tying the cord of a calf in Arizona,
one is straddling a cello in Russia,
one is shifting pots on the stove in Egypt,
one is painting her bedroom walls moon color,
one is dying but remembering a breakfast,
one is stretching on her mat in Thailand,
one is wiping the ass of her child,
one is staring out the window of a train
in the middle of Wyoming and one is
anywhere and some are everywhere and all
seem to be singing, although some can not
sing a note.

Sweet weight,
in celebration of the woman I am
let me carry a ten-foot scarf,
let me drum for the nineteen-year-olds,
let me carry bowls for the offering
(if that is my part).
Let me study the cardiovascular tissue,
let me examine the angular distance of meteors,
let me suck on the stems of flowers
(if that is my part).
Let me make certain tribal figures
(if that is my part).
For this thing the body needs
let me sing
for the supper,
for the kissing,
for the correct

Andrew said...

He brings to mind Eric Cartman's ode to women. He's equal to a round fowl mouthed cartoon cut-out.

Michael said...

There was a basketball analyst from Nantucket ...
Ah, forget it.

To a Coy Blogger:

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Andrew Marvell
Had nothing on you

Stephen said...


I have enjoyed your reports and wit on the Melnyck show in the afternoon. Now you bring an artists view to your blog (and a womans) good for you. Keep up the great work.


JJ FRENCH said...

It's amazing how you hijacked Tim Hardaways hate mongering and tied it into a guy who thought he was being funny. Nice move, Gloria Ironbox.

JJ FRENCH said...

Poetry sucks. Poetry by feminist martyrs suck even more. Especially if she wasn't talented enough to rhyme "uterus" with "cuterus" or "fruiterus".

(oYo) Hooray for boobies!

Aldo said...

LOL...Good for you Andie. And I'm happy your playing on the 15th also. Even if i'm not on your team, i'll still throw the gloves for you if anyone pisses you off!

NYR said...

You are so sexy!!!

tryan91 said...

Well Well Andie it's plain to see,
thAt your fairly cute and a bit witty,
when I bite my tongue sometimes on the show,
it's out of respect for know,
I'm a wily vet and argued many times,
and some would say I am FAB at the ryhmes,
So don't think your better or some kind of God,
It's just not my nature to put down a broad,
But if you say so then argue I will,
And I will hold nothing back..I will go for the kill,
So flaunt your smile and your gift of gab,
I am always one-up...I played for the Habs.
So get ready on Thursday I will play fine,
And hopefully for you, you play on my line,
And save me your's for the birds,

Terry Ryan

theSicilianScofflaw said...


Got a poem for you:

In my car I drive home
I listen to you speak
Banter and such with Mitch
Seeing your pic makes my knees week

I rarely agree with you
But what can I say
When I saw your pic
I knew I wasn't gay

A woman with some fight
cannot be pushed around
when I heard you on the dial
i know its love I found

i know your very bright
just not when it comes to sports
can't wait for the summer
to see you dressed in shorts

enclosing i must say
thanks for reading my bit
andie bennett my dear
i'd love to kiss your ... hand.

JJ FRENCH said...

It's times like this that make me wish I was a horse so I could break my own leg and somebody would shoot me.

When you exit this thread, please do not forget to pick your testicles up on the way out.