Things Not to do and Tell me its Something Else

Don’t piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining

Don’t jizz in my smoothie and call it a protein boost

Don’t cite Plessy v. Ferguson and tell me it’s Roe v. Wade

Don’t fart on my head and tell me it’s raining

Don’t put on a helmet and tell me you’re a racecar driver competing in the Gran Prix

Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow

Don’t rape me and tell me it’s “surprise sex”

Don’t canonize predominantly male-authored works of literature and tell me that it’s an entirely merit-based system

Don’t snort cocaine off my podium and tell me it’s Pixie Stix

Don’t commit genocide on an indigenous peoples and tell me
you’re discovering America

Don’t give me a summer squash and tell me it’s a zucchini

Don’t give me I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter and tell me it’s butter, because I really have a hard time telling the difference. That stuff is amazing!

Don’t read me Cattalus and tell me it’s Ovid

Don’t molest my kids and tell me you’re a “groining tutor”

Don’t drive on the wrong side of the street and tell me it’s England

Don’t shit on my head and call it an Easter bonnet

Don’t put hot sauce on my hamburger and tell me it’s a fiesta salad

Don’t spit in my shirt pocket and tell me I’m lactating

Don’t look under my robes and tell me you’re spelunking

Don’t play post-Roger Waters Floyd and tell me it’s pre-Roger Waters Floyd

Don’t serve me expired mayonnaise and tell me it’s applebutter

Don’t make a Hollywood sequel of your underground Indie classic and tell me you’re not a sellout

Don’t put your dick in my hand and tell me it’s a crude balloon animal

Don’t squeeze lemons in my eye and tell me they’re contacts

Don’t put a Dracula in my bed and tell me it’s a puppy

Don’t put snakes on a plane and call it Pacific Flight 121

Don’t put a hat on a dog and tell me it’s comedy

Don’t put an old man alone on a park bench and tell me it’s art

Don’t punch me in the face and tell me you thought my head was a glove

Don’t bring me to orgasm and sing “Here Comes the Judge”

Don’t turn your shirt inside-out and tell me it’s a new shirt

Don’t put Ben Stiller in a movie and tell me he’s not playing the same role as every movie he’s ever been in

Don’t play me rap and call it “urban beat poetry”

Don’t give me a filing hasp and tell me it’s a tampon

Don’t come in here with a case against Lorenzo’s Qwik-Stop Likker Shoppe and tell me he refused to pay his rent after you borrowed his sister’s bike and put it in hock to pay for a phone bill your ex-girlfriend ran up while she lived with you and tell me you deserve my respect