“Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Dirt Bike Hotdogs”

Venus says when she tried on-line dating, she got sent so many dick picks, it was like their frankfurters would stretch from sea to shining sea—several times.

Each relished a woman with an appetite for dirt bike hotdogs

and truly wished to be the one

every one

would be

in love


She felt their vulnerability but regarded their casual exhibition as impersonal

and wondered, so just what’s in these wieners?

and took a quick look

at this “paste-like and batter-like poultry product”

by forcing bones, with attached edible tissue, through a sive or similar device under high pressure.

And to her surprise

the take-away

was inside

his haiku about how coots sound the same fighting as they do fucking.


by “advanced meat recovery machinery” separates the edibles from the inedibles without smashing the bone.


less than 10 percent water

and Corn syrup,


A common meat preservative

antimicrobial, capable of killing


harm full



stocks (a stockade)

(a want) ad

classifying his search for a bi-valve to tie his ball-gag


boiling water with parts of the carcass.

Found in chowder and instant hand warmers.

To help keep meat-based products pink.

He voyeurs back to back

episodes of the Gadget Girls, those money savvy tarts, showcasing

vibrating modern conveniences to fangirls who give good


Side effects, including dizziness, gastrointestinal issues, headaches and, if consumed in large quantities, kidney stones.

A filler or thickening agent.

Brewers also often use it in beer.

Uncontrollable bouts of laughter.

Resistance to his own measure

and mean streaks…

An increased risk of cancer.

Frequently found in fertilizers.

An increased shelf life…

he doesn’t want to end up like his father, a master of wood

a carpenter. 

Paid by some Hopi or Chinook to erect

a totem pole.

A pure-blood

Irish-Catholic.  Not a drop of American Indian

but at the EXPO

where his father’s booth proudly displayed his polished


mahogany Jesus bust

with a detached centerpiece of hands folded in prayer,

a Chief, no less, approached him

and praised him

for being a true visionary. 

They discussed wood grain and how to coax the spirits from the rings. 

His father had additionally provided a small demo of his skill at a wood block where he informatively described his blades and planes and proceeded to whittle a whistle in the shape of a dove and when he lifted his lips to blow through the hollow tail, a sweet perfect note in ‘C’ sang out the beak. 

His father designed and built the alter at their church and donated his oak banisters and handrails to senior centers and nursing homes and taught how to build his benches, picnic tables and bunkbeds to a Boy Scouts of America troop. 

Made his actual living on elaborate personalized coffins

King Tut woulda been so lucky to have been buried in a sarcophagus carved by his father.


He didn’t want to be like his mother who was a master glass blower. 

A mistress of the crystal ball.  Literally providing instruments of hocus pocus up and down the west coast. 

Mostly middle-aged women sporting her witch-balls (intended to ward off and or capture dark spirits) in their whimsical tea gardens,

several shingle-hanging psychics paying top dollar for table-top oracles elevated by silver-plated tripods. 

Wand knobs, divination pendulums, and ritual chalices sold like hotcakes. 

However, his mother raked in the most cash for her rearview mirror car ornaments, glass chillums, and elaborate water bongs.

He says he wants to be the cocktails they serve on trains… 

And the Trip Advisor requests a review which will garner points that look like stars and add up to a badge.

“Mama’s Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Dirt Bike Hotdogs” (mixed media) featured on Bitter Sweet Place, a Fleeting He(art) Gallery, by Katie-Rae Jean, March 2020
The Brooke Candy “Nasty” (Music Video) is being posted by Bitter Sweet Place, a Fleeting He(art) Gallery for not commercial purpose.
Brooke Candy
Licensed to YouTube by
SME (on behalf of RCA Records Label); CMRRA, UMPG Publishing, UNIAO BRASILEIRA DE EDITORAS DE MUSICA – UBEM, ASCAP, BMI – Broadcast Music Inc., LatinAutor – UMPG, LatinAutor, and 5 Music Rights Societies (c) 2016

Dragons Don’t Do Hotdogs. . .

LipWear-CookWear “hotdog pink” #1 (mixed media) by Katie-Rae Jean, January 2020

As she applied her brand new lipstick, it dawned on her that it was the same shade as hotdogs. . .

This made her frown which didn’t help the appearance of her mouth.

Her father named her Purity, but her mother never liked it, she finally confessed to her like it’d been pent up and pending on her bucket-list. So when Purity was old enough to know the truth and several years after the divorce, her mother said she had wanted to name her Susan, you know, after the the Lazy-Susan her grandparents kept on their dining-nook table, that spun circles of sweet pickle relish, cold butter and mustard within reach. Her mother said, “But your father wouldn’t let me. He had too many horror stories from the pickle factory.”

LipWear-CookWear “hotdog pink” #2 (mixed media) by Katie-Rae Jean, January 2020

Her father explained that he had wanted to name her Chipko when he found out about the tree-huggers and how “Chip” for short felt like a chip off the old block, but her mother drew the line. “You are your father’s daughter.” He told her, “And you’re braver than your brother. When he was a toddler he’d crawl on his hands and knees backwards down the stairs, but you just held the rail and took ’em in stride.”

At about age nine her father had given them a basic self-defense lesson. He said, Fight to win. Don’t be afraid to pick up a two-by-four and bollocks to honor. You wanna maim and run like hell. He then proceeded to show Purity the vulnerable points that would incapacitate a larger foe. The heel of the palm for instance, with a quick straight jab under the nose would theoretically shove the attacker’s delicate bone into the brain. A key between the knuckles, held flat inside the fist for grip, and a thunk to the larynx was another effective method. He said to take that one to heart being it was a tip for a latch-key kid. After a series of mock sparring bouts with an emphasis on sustained eye contact and accompanying poker-face, Purity’s father instructed them to come at him. They pretended to be bad guys and took turns failing to resist their headlocks.

Purity’s brother said, “Papa never did let us win.” He said, “We’d jab, he’d grab. And Lock. We’d stab, he’d grab. And Lock. We’d be bad, he’d grab. And Lock. We’d be mad, he’d grab. And Lock.”

Purity’s father’s move was literally called the Prison Cell Block.

She found herself busting into the pop ‘n lock as her brother’s cheeks flushed with red determination to free himself from his father’s grip and her father said, “Stop that and pay attention, Purity. These are battle tactics, not tap dance lessons.”

“um… I was using my arms, Pop. Not my feet.” Purity clarified.

Occasionally Purity and her brother would watch their father do sit-ups with a twenty-five pound weight on his chest. After his reps, he’d face them, suck in and tighten his abdomen and say, “Go ahead. Punch me as hard as you can in the gut.”

Her father said, “You see, culling is the instinct for basic symmetry, which is not the foundation, but the evolutionary cornerstone of all animal attraction. . .”

He said, “And that’s why you can Never truly trust hotdogs.”

The Billie Eilish “Bad Guy” (music video) is being posted for No Commercial Purpose.
© 2019 Darkroom/Interscope Records
“LipWear-CookWear hotdog pink-mustard mouth” (mixed media) by Katie-Rae Jean, January 2020
The Jim Croce “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” (music audio) is being posted on Bitter Sweet Place for no commercial purposes.