Donnie’s Little Girl

27 May



This current administration has officially become so dysfunctional that its entertaining. If so many people weren’t so adversely affected by this dysfunction, I would say this is stuff of hilarity. Feels like the perfect time for us to get our first presidential reality show up at the White House.

Can you imagine the confession room on daily basis with the likes Sean Spicer, Kelly Conway, Mike Pence, and the Trump family running around the White House? You telling me you wouldn’t watch that shit? It’d be like Real World, House of Cards, West Wing, and The Apprentice all rolled up in one.

There are going to be some national best selling books on the Trump family if we somehow survive the fallout from the next 8 years.  The Melania Trump autobiography will be flying off the shelves because you know that’s going to have some dirt in it–unless Donald made her sign a non disclosure agreement when they got married. Could you imagine how embarrassing that golden shower story was?

Even if its just conjecture, that is an absurd rumor to have floating around about your family. Imagine how that made Melania feel? Even if he didn’t fuck those women and he just sat in a rocking chair jacking off while they peed on each other, that would be enough kill any marriage. You couldn’t just call it #fakenews and keep it pushing. That’s a series of conversations that have to happen.

I’m actually disgusted with myself for how attracted I am to Ivanka. She embodies everything that is wrong with the American white chick, but she is fine as hell. She is “you need seven figures in your bank account to even get a date” hot. Ivanka Trump is “I wanna fuck but I’ll settle for a hand job” kind of hot.

I bet there is a Schindler’s list of college boys who had to go to the campus ER for cases of the blue balls. She looks like the type of woman who will stop jacking you off if you don’t come in the first 5 minutes. That’s prolly the most work her dainty hands have ever seen.

Poor Jared Kushner has to fight the Canadian Prime Minister and the POTUS for his wife’s attention. I bet his heart just dropped when he saw the eyes she was giving Justin Trudeau. She looks the type to weaponize her vijajay. Withhold some loving to get what she wants. She prolly made ole Kush wait so long to get the panties that he went stir crazy when she finally let him in there. It was prolly game over after that–putty in her hands. That pussy been monetized since birth. That’s why kushner is brokering all these shady business deals to cover the millions of dollars he is accruing booty taxes a year.



profile pic b mick  Bobby Mickey is the alter ego of writer and poet Edward Austin Robertson. When he isn’t involved in some basketball related activity, actively looking for parties to deejay or venues to perform comedy, he can be found recording podcasts with Craig Stein at Fullsass Studios. Follow him on twitter @clickpicka79. For booking inquiries, send contact info to 






The Dangers of Driving at Night

25 May

Maybe all it took was a little smoke

a cup of coffee and a 1 am road trip

to really understand Tom Waits’

“Heart of Saturday Night”.


I’ve often felt like 3 AM was a specific sweet spot

for listening to Neil Young

on late night intrastate drives–

the sloppier the production the better.

I once enjoyed those late night excursions.


But those were much safer times.

My mission tonight was to get home undetected

by any potential predator–policeman or otherwise.

Caught in a storm

and each passing 18 wheeler

provided an additional challenge

of avoiding any major splashback

that could result in a wreck.


Its not like I’m afraid to die.

I am not.

But the anxiety of having projects unfinished

or things left unsaid, does get to me sometimes.


Which made this weekend that much sweeter

having had the chance to be reminded

what it is like to spend time

with a woman who was equal parts,

funny, smart, kind and beautiful.


So much I wanted to tell her:

like how being with her is so easy

and that the reason for my silence 

Is that I’m so impressed that she turned out to be

as remarkable of a person as I originally thought she would be.

That I respected her ability to recognize

how unique and how special she really was.


But I certainly could say none of these things

if I didn’t make my destination.


No matter how grumpy tomorrow looked for me

I could still wake up,go to work, and eat my Kolaches

if I survived.

Otherwise, they’d be free game to the investigating authorities

for whomever was brave enough to sweep

the glass off the crushed box of pastries,

and take a huge bite of a sausage puff

without a trace of irony in their face.


But it was too dark.

Too late.

And too rainy to entertain such fantasies.

I’d better focus on the road.

There was another trailer trying to pass on my left.


~Edward Austin Robertson






That Moment When You Realize You’re Washed

21 May


I’m just now coming to terms with being washed. You know how I know I’m washed? I’m in bed by ten on Friday nights. I prefer cheese pizza over any other toppings, and all  my favorite music is from the 90’s era. I feel like a 60 year old in a 40 year old man’s body.


Could you imagine a dating App for introverts? It’d be the worst idea ever. People would just creep on each other’s profile pics and make up reasons not to message first. No one would get laid.



I’ve been working on my own dating APP. Its called with an @ symbol. I wanna cut thru the smoke and mirrors of the dating game. Get to the heart of it—like that Don Henley song.It’d be just like every other dating site. You create a profile, gas yourself up or whatever, but then you gotta put at least 3 of your worst photos onto the site, so that people can see the truth. The rougher the photo the better. We’re talking hangover face, diarrhea face, I’ve got cramps and I’m bloated face. Because the person you went to bed with and the person you wake up next to can be two completely people. #nosurprises


Think about how assuring it must feel to sit across from someone at the dinner table and know that they were still felt attracted to you after seeing your worst photographs. That person went on your profile and thought “eh if this is as bad as it gets, then I’ll give it a shot” Anyone looking to invest? I’m a have this off the ground by the next SXSW interactive. Tryna change the game.



I’ve been working in education for the last 5 years. It’s a mixed bag. On one hand I like working with kids and at times it is ridiculously fun. On the other hand I’m implicitly contributing to the school to prison pipeline. Teaching public school in Oklahoma really burnt me out on it. I spent more time fighting white supremacy brainwashing than I did teaching history. I eventually stopped going to department meetings because I got tired of explaining why a team mascot like the Redmen is considered racist,  or why you can’t show a class full of black kids the “Butler” & “The Help” and pass it off as history.


The admin was always quick to suspend kids and I’d have to advocate on their behalf so they wouldn’t get behind the blackball academically. I remember having one “come to Jesus” meeting with a kid and his mom, and the discipline dean and guidance counselor. It was absurd. This kid was fucking around and had like a 12 in my class because he never came to class. Anyway, we finally got to a good place in the meeting,when the guidance counselor asked what his goals were for the rest of his life. This mutherfucker says “ I wanna go to the NBA.”  




It got mad quiet in the room, before thankfully, another teacher asked the mother, “Mrs. so and so, what about you? Do you have any goals for Denzell that you’d like him to accomplish?”


There was a collective sigh of relief. Then mom said, “I want him to go to the NBA too!”


The dean and the guidance counselor looked at him and said “well you never know where you’ll be if you work hard” and “make sure remember to leave us some tickets when you make it big.”


I said “THATS IT! I’m outta here. This is bullshit!”


Finally I calmed down enough to talk the kid and his mom after the meeting.


“Look I heard what you said in there about Denzell’s future and I think it’s important that we don’t put all our eggs in one basket for him. Listen.  There’s no nice way to put this… but your son sucks at basketball. we need to find a plan B for him. I’m serious. I’ve seen him on the court and he’s terrible. He doesn’t box out, he can’t dribble to his left, his shot is trash, and he doesn’t know how to move without the ball. Before you report me to my supervisor, just hear me out for a second. Now I’ve seen your son’s grades and I must admit, he is pretty decent at math……..Have you guys ever considered him selling drugs?


Now hear me out…I can make some calls to some people guy who can get you started on the entry level. You’re young, so if you start now, by the time you’re 21 you can afford to start your own crew. This doesn’t have to be your career, but just a good way to get your foot in the business world. Think about all the things you can do with that money Denzell. You can open up that tea shop your mother always talked about owning. You can invest in the stock market and diversify your assets. Hell you can even start a rap label and perhaps even sign the next Fetty Wap. Let’s be honest, if you don’t graduate high school, you’re probably going to jail anyway, may as well go in having some work experience.


I like giving back to the community. That’s part of why I teach so I can be an example for these kids to look up to. I wanna be to nerdy black teenagers what Dan Savage is for Queer kids. “I promise it gets better junior. Don’t let my occupation fool you. I could’ve been anything in life besides a teacher. I just got lazy”



Growing up is tough. Growing up in today’s world is even tougher. So many more pitfalls for kids these days. I can’t imagine what my life would have been like growing up with things like Snapchat, Facebook Live, and internet porn. So I get it. I like to think of myself as less of a teacher and more of a guide through the turbulent seas of adolescence.


I had it rough as a teenager myself. I went to school in Dallas for a little bit and I got fucked with relentlessly because I was a nerd and I reeked of the suburbs.I would finish my work as fast as I could then go and hide in the library because I knew my bullies didn’t know where it was.


I kept toothpaste and a toothbrush in my locker and sometimes after lunch I’d look up from the sink and see a bunch of kids watching me and laughing.

“ See man I told you Carlton brushes his teeth erryday after lunch.”




But I remember what it’s like at that age. Its sucks. I always felt like I had no control over my life. 8 hours of school where adults treated us like prisoners. My parents were uber strict and my only outlets as a kid were music and sports. So I get it. Not to say that I totally get the youth of today or that we always get along. The other day during pickup some 15 year old tried to fight me. I dunno if it was all the trash i was talking or pushing him a little too hard on a foul, but he was mad agitated. One time down the court, he yelled to his teammate, “I’m a beat this old man’s ass if he keep fucking with me.”


I looked at him when we got down to the other end of the court. “Can I help you?” He said blankly.


“Why are you so upset young man. We spose to be having fun. Life is too short to be mad all the time.


“ Shut the fuck up talking to me wit yo washed ass. Why you out here anyway man, you old?  What? You think this an afterschool special or something? You better get on fo’ you get spit on. Old muthafucka. Kick ROCKS NIGGA!”



Trying times though for my people, now more than ever we have to utilize my black people instincts–or as you white people call it, “Paranoia”. My negro spidey senses, are what have kept me out of fucked up situations.It’s the ability to quickly calculate the odds of every decision resulting in a run-in with white supremacist.


If you invite me to your state, your city or your home and I decline, it’s probably because my third eye told me not to. The same reason I don’t jog in white neighborhoods is the same reason I don’t go camping. You’ll never catch me out at Glacier, or the Redwoods or any other National Parks. Nope I’m just as likely to run into a white supremacist as I am a grizzly bear. At least with a grizzly bear I’ll get justice because someone will have to shoot it. They’ll just take the white supremacist to Burger king.



profile pic b mick  Bobby Mickey is the alter ego of writer and poet Edward Austin Robertson. When he isn’t involved in some basketball related activity, actively looking for parties to deejay or venues to perform comedy, he can be found recording podcasts with Craig Stein at Fullsass Studios. Follow him on twitter @clickpicka79. For booking inquiries, send contact info to 

Humility in Doses

22 Apr

The collective air had been sucked out the town

with the madness now over.

Their team had lost

but their guys were were getting their recognition


A  pleasant weekend of chasing pickup ball

all over town and now we were in the park

enjoying the waning daylight


It was good to see her again–

to finally know there were no grudges held on either side

No doubt I could’ve handled things

with more delicacy and tact.

She was just doing what young women do at that age


We talked for about an hour;

neither of us really saying anything.

Avoiding any past details that led

to touching each other’s faces

early into the night;

caught somewhere between

convenience and necessity,

lust and tenderness,

tepid and cavalier,

wrecking the perception of friendship


I know what I should’ve done

even while I hurriedly packed

running from feeling broken and disappointed.


She looked in good spirits

and that felt good.

But the biggest difference was that I was finally happy.


I hadn’t failed myself after all

And as it turned out I’d left

at exactly the right time–

again and again (soon to be) again


I felt the sudden sense of satisfaction

towards my lovers (all of them).

Happy for all of them

and happy about all of them.

Knowing that they were all the right ones

And knowing that none of them were the right ones.


The chimes from the city clocks went off.

The wind stiffened.

There was about an hour of daylight left.

She and I hugged it out in the middle of the park

before I got in my vehicle and left town.


~Edward Austin Robertson


22 Apr


25 Mar

Shake it Up

25 Mar

Somewhere between wandering the streets of Paris’ Latin Quarter and getting lost in Barcelona’s La Rambla neighborhood, I realized that I had become a gluten intolerant replica of my dead grandpa. I couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but some time ago, I’d fallen asleep as 14 year old fun loving black kid in a baseball cap, and woken up a cheap, joyless, crotchety old man.


What tipped me off?


My penchant for inwardly vomiting at excessive displays of public affection. Every storefront felt like a tourist trap, and I found myself shaking my head at anything that cost more than 10 Euro. I’d worked, saved and done all kinds of legwork just so I could not spend my hard earned ducats.

I don’t mind spending money, but I want to feel like I got value for my dollar. There are not many places in Paris that make you feel like you’ve gotten equal value. The Euro in Spain didn’t take you much further, but you at least could walk away from a transaction with your pants still on and your rectum intact.


I doubt I will ever go to France again, and if I do it certainly will not be on my own dime. It is a shame that such a beautiful city like Paris is wasted on such lifeless, vapid,xenophobic malcontents like Parisians. I’m afraid that this is the city that New York City will turn into after all the young artists and brown and black people are pushed out—you know the people that make New York poppin’.

Give it 5-10 years. The wheels are already in motion.

Anyway the last memory I’ll have of Paris is seeing a white guy get pimpslapped by an Arab man. I had stopped long enough to consider getting closer to the show, when I saw the white man reach for something along the small of his back. I suddenly remembered that train I had to catch. Dude got smacked hard though. What a way to start the day.


I’m fascinated by Spain’s bizarre and violent history. As a city they’ve survived Moorish and Arab occupation, dictators, and ethnic cleansing to become the place it is today. Barcelona is a very beautiful city. Its clean (one of the cleanest cities I’ve ever been to), and the metro system is pretty straight forward.The food is fantastic and its easy to navigate.  You can seen the Spanish influence on american cities such as Mexico City, San Francisco, and New Orleans. And the abundance of beautiful women would give NYC a run for its money.

There is no way I’d live in Spain as an African,, Muslim, or Jew. Spaniards may have calmed down, but these are people who used to quarter people  and decapitate dogs. That kind of behavior just doesn’t dissipate into thin air. Historically, Spain is like the Boston Celtics of Imperialism. Their influence is far reaching when you think about how many countries in the world speak Spanish.

The French were either rude, or inconsiderate, but I found Spanish people to be  cold  and dismissive. Often times i’d make eye contact with a citizen and hold it, waiting for a nod or a hello. Often times, neither came. This started to become unnerving by  the 34rd or 4th time this happneed. Where i’m from, if you stare at a person longer than a couple of seconds, then its usually an act of agression or seduction. It put me on edge, and Spain’s attitude towards Africans became increasingly clear (God they must HATE the Moors). After a while i started mean mugging these staring people, my eyes screaming Buenos Fucking Tardes mufucka!


I have to say though, any place with late night eateries and cafes is in theory, alright with me. It was nice to not have to rush out my room at 22:30 in hopes of catching some tapas and espresso. There was one spot I walked into about an hour to midnight, and had one of the best meals I’d had that whole week; a plate of goat cheese covered in sliced veal that was so delicious that I got an erection from every bite.

Other notable things:

  •  Saw a bunch of grown ass men in full FC Barcelona garb throughout my stay in Spain. Interesting how fandom is so different over there. If a man over 21 is wearing a jersey with someone’s name on it, its considered kind of busterish (unless you are autistic of course). I mean you would have thought these cats were equipment managers the way they rock the FC Barcelona gear.
  • I went to the Picasso museum in both Barcelona and in Paris, and the one in Barcelona though slightly cheaper by a Euro; was far superior. There were 3600 pieces in the Spanish location. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me since the man was from Spain, but I was disappointed to find that the infamous Blue period( my favorite Picasso era) was not in the Paris collection. Something I realized though is my dude Picasso was a savage. I hadn’t seen that many uncircumcised penises since my YMCA membership was canceled.
  • The contemporary museum in Barcelona was a nice surprise (I did a bang-bang–going immediately there after seeing the Picasso exhibit). It was relatively inexpensive, but for every cool installation piece, there was some indulgent student art experiment that was supposed to be edgy and provocative, but ultimately could’ve been done by anyone (like a room full TV’s with live static). There were a lot of provocative pieces there that captured or mirrored the politics of the Franco regime .Made me realize that war doesn’t kill creativity, and that although art isn’t a high priority during times of war, there is a place for it. There is still an importance in someone keeping record of whatever is going on in society.
  • New York City has become the standard I judge other cities on. Though world class cities like Barcelona, Paris, Amsterdam, and Montreal may be socially more progressive, the diversity and culture in NYC is unlike anywhere else. New York is not only the epicenter of America’s pulse, but also of the world’s. I still haven’t been to a place that is as poppin’ as New York (not to mention it is the birthplace of Hip Hop).  It makes you understand why everyone wants to live there (despite the miserable winters and ridiculous rent). Probably the only place in the states worth living for my money.




profile pic b mick  Bobby Mickey is the alter ego of writer and poet Edward Austin Robertson. When he isn’t involved in some basketball related activity, actively looking for parties to deejay or venues to perform comedy, he can be found recording podcasts with Craig Stein at Fullsass Studios. Follow him on twitter @clickpicka79. For booking inquiries, send contact info to