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 |   Tales from real life |
| Well, if they're not true, they oughta be! |
Earning My Derision (to the tune of Losing My Religion by R.E.M.) Your lies are bigger They're bigger than you And you are not nice The lengths that you will go to The disdain in your eyes Oh, please, don't say that stuff You're fucking up That's you at the rally That's you in the spotlight Sowing your dissension I try to withstand your lies And I don't know if I can do it Oh, no, you've said too much You never could shut up I can always hear you sneering Your insults are meant to sting You always play the bully Every moment Of every waking hour You choose to drag me down I try to find some good in you Like a hurt, lost and blinded MAGA fool Oh, no, I've lost too much I've been set up Consider this Consider this, the hint of the century Consider this, your whip That brought me to my knees, failed What if all your fantasies come Flailing down Oh, yes, you're fucking up I can always hear you sneering Your insults are meant to sting You always play the bully And I can only scream All I have are screams That's you at the rally That's you in the spotlight Earning my derision I try to withstand your lies And I don't know if I can do it Oh, no, you've said too much You never could shut up I can always hear you sneering Your insults are meant to sting You always play the bully And the pain won't go away Try, cry, why try? That’s my nightmare scream Just a scream Just a scream, scream |
This was my entry for the February 2025 round of the The Humorous Poetry Contest  .Knock, Knock, Madame “Knock, knock,” I cry in urgent pain. “Who could it be?” you ask again. “Tis I, madame, let me explain.” “Begone, strange man, you plead in vain.” “I do not wish to be a bore, but lift the latch, I must implore.” “I’ve opened once, so why do more?” “Because my damn foot’s in the door!” When I was a kid, I would never have dropped an f-bomb. My mom would have beat my butt with her yardstick and then washed my mouth out with Ivory soap (99 44⁄100% pure). To be fair, she was actually much more kind than strict. You could count the number of times she used the yardstick on one hand and the soap sessions on the other. It must have been effective, though, because I rarely swear or use rough language. Beyond an occasional dammit when I stub a toe or hammer my thumb, of course. Nobody's perfect, and even 99 44⁄100% pure is a tall order. My generally polite usage is especially surprising because my dad was a real pro with vulgar invective. He learned early from cowboys, miners, and loggers, then honed his skill with a four-year stint in the navy. Dad could swear fluently and at length without being boring or repetitive (unlike most stand-up comics). But that was his outside voice. He (mostly) refrained when he was in the house or with his family in public. None of us kids ever even tried to match his example. We thought it was clever to get away with saying things like 'dam water' or 'hell-o operator'. Oh, days of innocence lost! One opportunity for childish hilarity was this knock, knock joke: Knock, knock! Who's there? Madame Madame who? My damn foot's stuck in the door! My poem is intended as an homage to that old joke. I agree that the last line is strained, but I decided to remain true to the way I remember the punchline. |
A couple of years ago, there was near panic as a Chinese spy balloon drifted across the entire continental U.S before being shot down by heroic U.S. aviators. Apologists for the communist regime claimed it was merely a 'weather balloon'. They said it was no different from the dozens of balloons released every year by our own National Weather Service. I'm not so sure that it was an innocent science mission. That balloon came within hundreds of miles of several sensitive U.S. sites. It had a number of so-called meteorological devices that could have gathered vital information about rainfall, windspeed. or even reservoir levels. The only thing that prevented a more serious data breach was that it had no directional control. Thank God for Asian drivers! But there is a much larger conspiracy being perpetrated on the American public by even more nefarious agents of a foreign government. Imagine a fleet of millions of high-tech spy vehicles roaming across America with cameras, microphones, radar, and GPS tracking. And many of these interlopers have been given permission to access secure government parking areas. They're even waved through checkpoints at military bases! It may seem inconceivable, but the co-president of the United States, an unelected bureaucrat, is the one behind the conspiracy. And he's given the 'elected' president a $300 million bribe to look the other way as he undermines America. I'm talking about Tesla spy craft, of course. We know for a fact that every one of Elon's electric vehicles is connected to the internet. Collectively, they can upload Terabytes of sensitive data to Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service every day. They can listen and record every word uttered in their vicinity. They have millions of camera eyes monitoring our every move. And here's another chilling fact. Every one of these self-driving cars is capable of piloting itself to a classified target to gather secret intelligence. No driver needed! And, very soon, they'll be able to contact Vladimir Putin directly through the Starlink satellite constellation. Russia, are you listening? |
Selling your soul only feels wrong while you have one. Once it's gone, you don't miss it at all. - The Gospel of Trump I called the university and booked some time on their scanning electron microscope today. I wanted to see if I could find some respect for President Trump. No go. I felt bad about it for a minute and then I thought, Wait, maybe I should look at him instead of me. If I can detect any reason at all to respect him, then I might feel better. I set the microscope to its maximum magnification and looked for compassion, kindness, or humility. Nope, nope, and nope. Well, Christian virtues aren't everything. Maybe I can find courage, integrity, or wisdom. Not a trace. There has to be something positive, what about humor, intelligence, or good looks? Not even a blip. Then the view became murky, and I realized that the lens was completely fouled with uttered bullshit. I shook my head in disappointment and left. My time slot was about done, anyway. |
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