Erma Bombeck
Erma Louise Bombeck (née Fiste; February 21, 1927 – April 22, 1996) was an American humorist who achieved great popularity for her newspaper column that described suburban home life from the mid-1960s until the late 1990s. Bombeck also published 15 books, most of which became bestsellers. From 1965 to 1996, Erma Bombeck wrote over 4,000 newspaper columns, using broad and sometimes eloquent humor, chronicling the ordinary life of a midwestern suburban housewife. By the 1970s, her columns were read twice-weekly by 30 million readers of the 900 newspapers in the U.S. and Canada.
Early life
Erma Fiste was born in Bellbrook, Ohio, to a working-class family, and was raised in Dayton. Her parents were Erma (née Haines) and Cassius Edwin Fiste, who was the city crane operator. Young Erma lived with her elder paternal half-sister, Thelma. She began elementary school one year earlier than usual for her age, in 1932, and became an excellent student and an avid reader. She particularly enjoyed the popular humor writers of the time. After Erma's father died in 1936, she moved, with her mother, into her grandmother's home. In 1938 her mother remarried, to Albert Harris (a moving van owner). Erma practiced tap dance and singing, and was hired by a local radio station for a children's revue for eight years.
Podcasts:
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by Zutons
Bumbag
by: Zutonsraise a glass now to the person
who invented the word called scum
he was clever never foolish
and he knew where you came from
you're a bumbag and a vexer
and you never let your standards slip
cause your standards are so low-down
like the pavement
you find when you trip
but I won't trip over
look over my shoulder
you won't get the better of me
the credit you owe me
respect you don't show me
all makes the better for me
ooh you look so good from afar
ooh you're just a bumbag
yes you are
you're a parasite you're a virus
you only ever make mistakes
like a leper or a tapeworm
you only ever seem to take
now you're livin' with your language
and everyone's avoiding you
ask for money ask for cigarettes
it's all you ever seem to do
but I won't trip over
look over my shoulder
you won't get the better of me
the credit you owe me
respect you don't show me
all makes the better for me
ooh you look so good from afar
ooh but you're just a bumbag
yes you are
all my friend's heads seem to go down
whenever you decide to turn up
feel so sorry for your parents
when they see your face
they must spew up
you're the black sheep
you're the distance
you should keep your wits
about you in town
because one day it could kill you
and your body never will be found
but I won't trip over
look over my shoulder
you won't get the better of me
the credit you owe me
respect you don't show me
all makes the better for me
I won't trip over
look over my shoulder
you won't get the better of me
the credit you owe me
respect you don't show me