Skip to content

Enough Already!

Syria’s burning. There’s strife in Ukraine.
Iraq is a mess. California needs rain.
There’s racism coupled with riots and arson.
Republicans might even nominate Carson!
The stock market threatens to go belly up,
And the whole freaking nation’s obsessed with a cup!


Cursed Cups

There are Scrooges making Cratchits sing the bleak December blues.
There are Grinches stealing Christmas from the unsuspecting Whos.
There are nasty Mr. Potters out to bleed the paupers dry,
And now it’s evil Starbucks making baby Jesus cry!

They’ve simplified their Christmas cups to basic red and green,
Though the Bible tells us Jesus likes a far more festive scene.
The devil must have led them in their merchandising meetings.
Why, those cups could be more sinful than a cry of “Season’s Greetings!”

So shun the wicked latte cup that doesn’t say, “Noel.”
An espresso minus snowflakes is a ticket straight to hell!
Say no to minty mocha drinks unless you want to fry,
For the demon known as Starbucks made the baby Jesus cry!


A Royal Celebration

Hail to the Royals, the victors in Gotham!
We’ll hoist a blue banner and join the parade!
The crowd will get raucous for Cain and Moustakas,
For Gordon and Hosmer, Yordano and Wade!

Our offense was truly a twelfth-inning terror.
For every Mets error, we knew we would score.
Our tenacity punished the hubris of Harvey.
We never were cowed by the hammer of Thor!

There’s Esky and Eddie, aggressive and steady,
And Salvy with toughness to carry him through.
The bullpen has Duffy and Hoch and Herrera,
While Dyson has speed, and you know what it do!

We come from behind and we keep the line moving.
Forget about Granderson’s solo home run!
Our statement’s emphatic and Ned is ecstatic.
The Series is over. The Royals have won!


Horror from Above

Japan was repeatedly stomped by Godzilla.
New York had its troubles with Kong the gorilla.
Count Dracula terrorized parts of Romania,
But now there’s the Blimp that Destroyed Pennsylvania!

Its horrible tentacles reach to the ground.
Whole cities are threatened and power lines downed.
It can ravage and mutilate, shatter and smash,
While consuming three billion in taxpayer cash!

There are flesh-eating zombies and weird UFOs,
But really, I’ve never felt threatened by those.
My one grim obsession, the cause of my mania
Is truly the Blimp that Destroyed Pennsylvania!


Straight Shooter

I’m a guardian of justice
And I keep my eyeballs peeled.
My heart is filled with courage
And my weapon is concealed.
If I think you look suspicious,
You’d be smart to cut and run.
I’m the champion of the innocent,
A good guy with a gun!

I’m a fearless freedom fighter.
I support the NRA,
‘Cause I know the feds are closing in
To take my guns away!
The Amendment’s called the Second,
But to me it’s Number One.
And I’m itching for some action
As a good guy with a gun.

I’m Batman to your Gotham.
I’m a hero through and through.
You’ll see I’m twice as badass
When I’ve had a drink or two.
My shots may be erratic,
But at least I’ll have some fun.
So bring it on, you villains,
I’m a good guy with a gun!


Disturbing Dump

October is on us. The banshees are howling.
The werewolves are loose and the zombies are prowling.
And yet the great horror of this Halloween
Is the Whopper that renders your excrement green!

It’s the stuff of your nightmares, but nonetheless true
That Burger King’s putting the “Boo!” in your poo.
Was a scientist ever so out of his mind
As to draw such an evil from every behind?

Now demons are dreadful and phantoms are spooky,
But none can compare with this freak of a dookie.
It beats any monster that ever was seen,
The Whopper that renders your excrement green!


Call Me Conflicted.

Dear Caitlyn, congrats on your bold transformation!
You’re rocking the cover of Vanity Fair!
And yet I applaud you with some hesitation
For (pardon the metaphor) growing a pair.
Because of your courage, your goose is ungandered,
Your Mickey is Minnied, your guyhood is girled.
But your beauty has set an impossible standard
For all former he-men all over the world!


Pronoun Fail

I’ve read the grammars front to back,
But still I’ve got no clue
Why standard English has to lack
A plural form of “you.”

It seems that someone dropped the ball,
Which frankly has me bugged.
The South quite gamely offered “y’all,”
But Northerners just shrugged.

And “youse,” of course, is widely dissed
Except for cracking wise.
No self-respecting feminist
Would stoop to say, “you guys.”

How useful it would be to say,
Ustedes,” “ihr” or “vous.”
I curse the fiend who took away
Our plural form of “you!”



Farewell, Mr. Spock

Farewell, Mr. Spock.
Your demise was a shock.
You lived long and prospered,
But ran out the clock.
We’ll miss your expressions of sheer fascination,
Your stoic demeanor of deep contemplation.
We solemnly mourn with the whole Federation.
We bid you farewell, Mr. Spock.

Farewell, Mr. Spock,
Whom no Klingon could mock,
The sort of a man
It’s an honor to grok.
Our grief is as vast as the heavenly spheres.
One lift of an eyebrow now brings us to tears.
That song about Bilbo’s a dirge to our ears.
We bid you farewell, Mr. Spock.

Farewell, Mr. Spock.
Cue the Mozart and Bach,
Or the Stones or The Who,
For in fact you still rock.
Though at times you took on an Impossible Mission
Or morphed into Tevye to sing of tradition,
Your Star Fleet career is what won recognition,
And so it’s farewell, Mr. Spock.
Our fondest farewell, Mr. Spock!



It’s a Long Wait for VA Health Care

Okay, first post in well over a year. The idea for this song recently popped into my head and I had to write it up. My apologies for the low quality of the video. I cobbled it together from images on the web, just to have some visual content for YouTube.