Rasputin ate some gluten
in a bite of Russian bread,
And before the day was over
he was batty in the head.
He dressed in women’s underwear.
He smoked a lead cigar.
He diddled Alexandra
and he tried to pork the Tsar!
The Romanovs were doomed,
for he was crazy sure as shootin’.
What a bane for all of Russia
when Rasputin ate some gluten!
A gripping, fast-paced drama
is the acme of the arts.
A really funny comedy
is done before it starts!
It seems a finely-crafted film
has time-constricting powers.
Unlike the average Oscar night,
which lasts a thousand hours.
Palin is pitching a show for TV!
It may air on Fox, or perhaps NBC.
With its scenes of Alaska, it’s stunning to view,
But it suddenly ends when she quits halfway through.
A TV chef in Italy
Was sacked in seconds flat
When he aired an ancient recipe
For tasty Tuscan cat.
Now me, I love a hearty ziti,
But please, signore — hold the kitti!
I’d likely meet a stripper
With the body of a troll
Or a Bible-thumping Jesus freak
Who’s out to save my soul,
A goth with too much attitude,
A biker dude who’s well tattooed
And fat and drunk and bare-ass nude
Upon the toilet bowl!
How wasted would I have to get
To try my luck at Chat Roulette?
I ask, “To watch or not to watch?”
For that’s the burning question.
To suffer Leno’s finite jest
And thus risk indigestion?
His disposition’s antic, true,
But stale as day-old beer.
The Prince of Denmark had a point.
The time is clearly out of joint.
“Tonight” is SO last year!
Quoth the Right with bluff and bluster,
“Numbers you will never muster
To avoid our filibuster.
You’d need sixty votes or more!”
Suddenly Barack Obama,
Heightening the sense of drama,
Taunts the GOP, “Your mama!
We will bring it to the floor!
Reconciliation, baby!
That will bring it to the floor!”
He’s no wussy anymore.
I used to have a playful cat
Who’d tear around the house.
He used to be an acrobat,
But now he’s older, rather fat.
He’d barely move to make his scat,
Much less to chase a mouse.
He sleeps all day without a care.
Perhaps he’s onto something there!
Bathroom cell phone talker guy,
What customs are you living by?
The subject of your chatter
is of no concern to me.
Ensconced within a public stall,
You think it’s cool to make a call?
It’s frankly quite distracting
when I’m trying hard to pee!
Bathroom cell phone talker guy,
Is this the time for saying hi?
Is yapping while you’re crapping
how you get your twisted kicks?
You’ve got to be some kind of fool.
You haven’t learned the simple rule:
With idle conversation
defecation doesn’t mix!
The locker room’s my personal lyceum.
I overhear great insights and opinion.
I’ve learned what’s hot at Ripley’s Wax Museum;
That President Obama is a Kenyan;
That Marnie has great knockers (you should see ‘em!);
That climate change is part of man’s dominion.
From hanging where this class of genius gabs,
My brain is now as awesome as my abs!
