Friday, September 3, 2010
Dr. Hawking, Dr. Hawking,
Your remarks are truly shocking!
A creator wasn’t needed
For the universe, you say.
Those entities you’re knocking
Don’t take kindly to your mocking.
There’ll be coal inside your stocking
On this coming Christmas Day!
Dr. Hawking, Dr. Hawking,
Hear those theologians squawking!
They’re exclaiming, “Gosh!” and “Darn it!”
(Which is how those fellows swear.)
Just be careful, for you’re liable
To be belted with a Bible,
And without the Lord’s protection, well,
You haven’t got a prayer!
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Some dude has high hostility,
Dementia or senility,
Perhaps a disability,
Or else he’s in a rush.
It could be insobriety,
A lack of all propriety,
But though I wish he’d try it, he
Can never seem to flush!
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Combat troops
Disengage.
Mission’s changed.
Turn the page!
Now we train,
Show them how.
Biden’s there
Explaining now.
Afghanistan?
Pakistan?
We’ll defeat
The Taliban!
Here at home,
Middle class
Needs a boost.
Must haul ass!
Troops inspire
In times like these.
Kept my promise.
Love me, please?
The newspaper once was the media king,
Purveyor of facts and of views.
It would bring you the latest from Rome or Beijing,
And the comics were fun to peruse.
It would cover the issues, or even your eyes
If you needed a ten-minute snooze.
And if print hadn’t practically met its demise,
We could wipe our behinds with Fox News!
Two thousand light years distant,
Round a star called Kepler-9
There spins an earth-like planet
Of a promising design.
If higher life’s survived the droughts,
Volcanos and diseases,
It may be full of Starbucks,
Chick-fil-A’s and Chuck E. Cheeses.
Perhaps one day we’ll travel there,
And not to offer battle,
But just to give them anal probes
And mutilate their cattle.
From the days of Edmund Spenser
To the era of Millay,
Great poets wrote in rhyming verse,
Which then became passé.
As the moderns have discovered,
When you write of timeless love,
You’ve run clean out of rhyme words
After using up “above!”
A sing-song verse now ranks among
The worst poetic sins.
But a rhyme is still effective
When it’s just for shits and grins!
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Though classic Greek and Latin
May be tongues of yesteryear,
Corruption of the ancient forms
Still grates upon my ear.
The rules have slowly faded
Like some old Pompeiian mural.
But “kudos” is the singular,
While “media” is plural!
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
If I had never done a thing
Resulting in reproach and shame,
Had never had a sordid fling
Or cheated in a poker game
Or looked at dirty magazines
Or uttered “Damn!” or something worse,
Then I could be Miss Philippines,
But wouldn’t make Miss Universe!
When I’m inclined to be alone,
Completely solo, on my own,
Sans wife or colleague, friend or boss,
I eat sardines with mustard sauce.
I pop the can; its thick perfume
In nanoseconds clears the room.
It renders many ill and cross
To smell sardines with mustard sauce!
Though others may retreat in haste,
I’m happy I’ve acquired the taste.
If you can’t take it, hey — your loss!
I like sardines with mustard sauce!
One night when I was feeling fine,
Perhaps a little odd,
I put on ABBA’s greatest hits
And heard the voice of God.
I ate a pound of curly fries,
Three microwave burritos,
A box of Frankenberry
And a jumbo bag of Cheetos.
I think I did some smooching
With my roommate’s beagle mix.
Which is why I haven’t smoked a joint
Since 1986.
