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07:19:02 - 2000-02-12

Uncle Bob knows a few curse words and isn't afraid to use them. Therefore, anyone under the age of 18 or anyone with the morals of a saint may want to dilly-dally elsewhere. If this site isn't going to censor me, then IIII certainly will not be censoring myself. You have been warned.

From 1991-1992, I served as the U.S. Ambassador to Japan. I became keenly aware of their cultures and customs and quickly admitted to myself ... this was one wack assed country.

Their poetry for instance. They don't even call it "poetry", they call it "haiku". WTF?? All Haiku is is a three line bunch of crap. The first line must have five syllables...the second seven syllables...the third, back to five syllables. Now that's some goofy shit. I had a friend over there named Koo Sum Kyung (I think she was Korean, but she tried to pass herself off as Japanese ... but c'mon ... that's like me trying to pass myself off as Fabio), and every time I would see her in public, I would say "Hi, Koo" and instantly, people would gather up chairs sit in a circle around me and wait for me to spew some Haiku.

That is how I became known as Grand Haiku Master Bob, The American Dream in Japan.

I released a few albums of me reading my Haiku over Hip-Hop beats, etc. No big deal. I won the Japanese equivalent of a Grammy (which they call, oddly enough, the "Glammy") for my work, which I have proudly displayed on my toilet tank.

Anyway...all that aside ...here's some of my better Haiku poems, leading off with the Haiku poem that won me the Glammy for 1992, "Raisin Bread Hard" which featured a guest vocal by Yoko Ono and was remixed by Fatboy Slim. It was pretty wicked.

BOB'S BEST HAIKU POEMS

RAISIN BREAD HARD

Raisin Bread so hard


It stay out in rain for days


Goddamned Raisin Bread

IT SURE BEATS WORKIN' AT McSUSHI'S

I like fighting fire


It makes me feel important


I get to wear red.

JAPANESE TEENAGE BLUES

Teacher gives me grief


Mom and Dad give me grief too


I die a slow death

TURQUOISE BALLS

Hey Baby! I'm hot!


Let's make love under the stars!


Oh damn. Flo is here.

THE BALLAD OF JOHN AND DIARYLAND

Diaryland Rules


Sometimes I stay here for days


God I need a life

A FATHER'S TALK WITH HIS SON

Fucking vaseline


You have got to love the shit


It's awesome for sex

SUNDAY NIGHT RAVES SUCK

Hey, what time is it?


Shit! I'm late for interview


Won't get hired now

MY PUBLIC SERVICE HAIKU POEM THAT NEVER GOT OFF THE GROUND

Libraries are fun


There are many books to read


Read those shit damned books

PAGING DR. FREUD

I once had a dream


I was a fairy princess


My wife say...you gay??

ASSID PAIN

My ass is in pain


For days I say "Damn it hurt"


My poor damned big ass

As you can see....the Japanese welcomed my unique spin on their ancient form of poetry with open arms. I totally rocked Japan's world.

Sadly, I lost my ambassadorship 200 days into my stint there. I was in the middle of a little brouhaha with some shifty Sushi salesmen and a ring of Japanese prostitutes with one eye that we called the "One Eyed Japs". I returned to America, a penniless bum, who worked his way up to being a dollarless bum in just one month.

And the rest is history. Albeit a very cloudy one.

The preceding was totally fabricated. I wrote it because I felt like writing this morning, but nothing has happened since the last time I updated. I slept six hours. I got up and drank a coke. And sat down and made this whole thing up. If you think your Uncle Bob is smart enough to serve as a U.S. Ambassador, you're insane. Put your hands over your eyes, and count to ten slowly. When you take your hands off of your eyes, you just try to start seeing life a little bit more clearly, okay Spicoli?

I'm disappointed as hell that you lied to me about being a U.S. Ambassador to Japan and now you're going to hear about it.

This site makes me weep with pride

This Diaryland Ring of Wackos site is owned by

Uncle Bob.


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