August 20, 2019

Riverdale Renewal

I wonder, have you noticed that The Archie Comics crew Has been revised and modernized, And has emerged, anew? Sweet Betty Cooper—girl-next-door— Is looking like a tramp! Her jeans hang down below her hips; Her shirt is tight and damp; Her pony-tail is history; The girl has shaved her head; She looks a lot like Brittany And spends her days in bed! Veronica, in prison pants, Is angry, wan, and pale! She looks like Paris Hilton and She spends her nights in jail! But, kids, this is America! Don’t whine, complain or crab! Don’t be depressed! Instead, invest In Riverdale…

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On Board Computers

I witnessed on my plasma screen A brand new toothbrush ad! An ordinary brush except for What this toothbrush had: An actual computer in The handle! “Oh what fun!” To tell the owner of the brush Just when the teeth were done! “On-board computer,” said the voice! A phrase I’ve grown to hate, But, still, my hungry rabbit-brain Snapped quickly at the bait. On-board computers in your comb? To keep your fur arranged? On-board computers in your socks? To keep your feet estranged? On-board computers in your belt? To keep away the fat? And how about in condoms? No! I’ll…

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Constellations

I love to lie upon the ground And watch the night-time sky, And pick out constellations that I make up, on the sly. The big one there with all the stars? The one that’s flaming hot? That’s Hillary’s Ambition, and The easiest to spot! There’s Michael Moore’s Agenda, and The Pope with Foot in Mouth; There’s Edwards’ Hair, Pelosi’s Glare, And, John McCain Gone South. There’s Cheney’s Ego, rising, and Obama, Raising Dough, Mitt Romney’s Chances, setting, and There’s Rumsfeld, Eating Crow. And, look! The one that grew so bright? So certain? Without doubt? George Bush’s So Called Legacy! (It…

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Note from Santa

I’m sitting, watching shoppers with Their yuletide kids in tow, And thinking of a Christmas Eve Some 30 years ago. A simple one-room cabin on A deep Montana lake, A wild goose in the oven, and Snow drifting, flake by flake. Before the evening ended, we Left cookies for Saint Nick, And snuggled down together with A stove-warmed bedtime brick. We crawled out Christmas morning to The wood fire’s flickering light, And stared, astonished, at the gift That Santa left last night. For scrawled in charcoal on the wall, These blackened words, forsooth: “Believe in The Impossible, For there, you’ll…

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Relaxing

There are so many kids here, all looking hale and hearty, And in a moment of weakness, I thought I’d throw them a party. Okay, got to think of the problems. Would the fuzz come cruising by, maybe, to complain about the noise? Would all the girls be holding hands, or worse, with all the boys? I rather hope so, because a certain amount of Gallic frivolity Always adds a little something to the evening’s jollity. Rolling around in the hay is a pleasure that comes to mind – Boys and girls having the fun that’s so very easy to…

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The Joy of Gingerbread

Kath works in New York City in The Carnegie’s sweet dell. She plays a little music for A maestro named Maazel. But, each December moment she Can steal from bed and bow, She fiddles with molasses over Bowls of ginger-dough! She kneads it with her fingers, and She throws it on the floor! She rolls it out on hands and knees From kitchen sink to door! She cuts out walls and windows, and Bakes gables, doors and roofs, Then sticks them all together with The glue of reindeer hooves! This year she’ll craft a Gothic church With Handel in a…

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Ruined for Good

There’s something to be said, I think, For living in a place That’s been completely ruined by The lofty human race. Take trees. Yes, trees! Please take them all! Their worth is under par! Once gone there’d be no leaves to rake Or sap upon my car. And birds. Yes, birds! Just beaky nerds! They’re dirty, loud, and mean! I’d love to walk in silence on A sidewalk that stays clean. And, flowers! What a crock they are! Without their lurid blooms, No allergies, or killer bees, Or sweet and cloying fumes. I’ve had enough of all this stuff. And,…

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Creationism Proved

  I know it sounds ridiculous, But stay with me a while, And see the vast potential that Arises with a smile. They’re tossing out the science books In grades from one through nine, Replacing Evolution with ‘Intelligent Design.’ They say the science was a scam? A vast conspiracy? To hide Divine Perfection from The likes of you and me. But their behavior proves they’re right!? Their straits are not so dire! No need to run around and throw Those textbooks in the fire!     Had we evolved from chimps and apes With our opposing thumb, There is no…

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The Petting Zoo Diet

                                                 The girl sat down across from me And gave her mane a swish. She opened up her menu as She crowed, “I can’t eat fish!” “You can’t?” I asked. She mooed, and said, “Nor cheesecake anymore, Or anything like brownies or The things that I adore. No sugar, lard, or olive oil, No beef or bird or pork, No albatross or crocodile will Ever grace my fork. Now, rutabagas I can eat, But I don’t see…

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Please Forward

                                                  I know that your intentions are No less than heaven sent; I know your altruistic goal Is pure enlightenment. I know you think my slate is clean, My mind an empty jug, And that the stuff you forward is All welcomed with a hug. This email is to let you know The opposite is true: You’ve got it wrong, you’ve missed the bus; You haven’t got a clue! In fact, when I see “FORWARD TO:” I feel the…

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The Garden of Edam

                                      I’ve always been a person who Could conjure up the bucks; At eight years-old I biked the park And raffled off the ducks! My latest scam requires a move To Nazareth, P.A. To launch my Christian cheese shop and To profit from the fray. “The Garden of Edam” is its name, With sculpted cheese on-line: There’s “Adam and Eve in Provolone” And “Noah’s Curds in Brine.” There’s “Matthew in Sharp Cheddar” and There’s “Mark in Tasty Brie,” There’s “Luke in Mozzarella”…

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Brimstone Bound

                                       Pope Benedict is telling me That my beliefs are swell, And, though he hates to break the news, I’m going straight to Hell. The Protestants proclaim with smiles, My heart is pure and true, But, if I think I’m heaven-bound, I’ve lost a major screw. The Christian Rapture Right declares They’d help me if they could, But, since I voted Democrat, Damnation is too good. I’ve not heard from the Atheists, Or, those who worship Beer, But, exit polls predict as one, My…

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Confirmed

I’ve heard you say your fellow man, And fellow woman, too, Is “crazy as a crocodile Who’s feet are stuck in glue.” “As batty as a bedbug” or “As loony as a lark” “As zany as a zebra” or “As quirky as a quark”; “As silly as a sailor” or “As pouty as a punk” “As goofy as a gopher” or “As squirrely as a skunk.” A brand new study indicates You didn’t speak too soon: One-quarter of Americans Are loopy as a loon! Quote: “One in four exhibit signs Of clear insanity.” (Which makes me stop and wonder where They…

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Giraffic Park

                                          The latest thing in eco-chic Is spotted milk and cheese, Obtained from freckled animals With high and lumpy knees. Their eyes are big and lashy and Their heads have door-knob things; Their tails sport lovely flourishes Akin to feathered wings. Their tongues are eighteen-inches long; Their manes are rusty red; They have to kneel to get a drink; They never go to bed. They’re ruminants like Holstein cows; They eat trees from the top; Their babies weigh a hundred…

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New Man

                                        I just came from the doctor’s with The little list she made: “The food I must not ever eat,” The things I must evade. Right at the top is COFFEE, Which I’m drinking as I write; And next, I see, is BROWNIES, As I take another bite. POTATO CHIPS and KRISPY KREMES Are numbered three and four; Darn lucky since I packed them both For lunch the night before. And for this evening’s barbecue, With perfect timing clear, Are number…

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Whatchamacallit?

They say that as you’re growing old, Your whatchamacallit goes– You can’t remember little things Like if you wore your clothes, Or if your sister (what’s her name?) Has been released from jail, Or if your sister’s brother is Still trying to make bail. But, when you really think it through (Which, clearly, you can’t do), The things you don’t remember are The very things that you Would rather not remember and, In fact, would best forget, To give your brain some breathing room, So, frankly, you could get The life that you had rather lived Set firmly in your…

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Whatchacallit II

In reading last month’s ditty, I Have realized of late, That what I vainly preached about Has been my own true fate. My whatchacallit’s truly gone! I’m in a brand new zone! I don’t remember anything, And, boy, how I have grown! Or shrunk, I guess! At any rate, I’ve had to start anew and Invent a past and present that More fairly is my due. A myth, in fact, a naked lie, A fabricated rout! Complete with names and places that I’ve only dreamed about! But, wait, this seems familiar. Could I simply have forgot? I’ll never really know…

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A Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light, I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight. My wife was asleep, her head on my chest, My daughter beside me, angelic in rest. Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white, Transforming the yard to a winter delight. The sparkling lights in the tree I believe, Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve. My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep, Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep. In perfect contentment, or so it would seem, So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream. The sound wasn’t…

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Heart Rider

I peddled out of Phoenix Just about three weeks ago, And panted up the Mogollon, And through New Mexico, Then Texas, Oklahoma, and Across the Kansas miles, To end it in Missouri to St. Louis–welcome smiles. I peddled fifteen hundred miles With bare necessities: The clothing on my back, that’s all, And no real niceties. A sleeping bag and sunscreen, and Some shampoo and a comb, A couple of necessary tools, And my desire to roam. An Ogalala Sioux I met Who’s words cut clean and smart, Told me I didn’t ride a bike. Instead, I rode my heart. Related…

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No Girls Allowed

I’ve always been a skeptic when They cried, “Conspiracy!” But, lately, it’s apparent that They’re ganging up on me! Not lobbyists, or lawyers, or Republicans, or gripes. I’m talking about plumbers and The placement of their pipes. Or, maybe, it’s the architects Who all are growing taller, And simply draw the men’s room plans That plumbers all must foller. At any rate, I’m 5 foot 5″ A Lilliputian prince And when I use a public john It makes my ego wince. The plumbing has ascended far Above my dignity: The fellow with the kiddy stool Is more than likely me!…

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New Toys

While the toy recalls mount through the ceiling, Sending outsourcing importers reeling, And Barbie’s lead paint Causes Elmo to faint, While the Easy Bake Oven is peeling, There’s an old fashioned movement re-starting, Causing Wal-Mart and Cosco some smarting, ‘Cuz without Einstein Blocks To stuff in kids’ socks, Toys R Us, from their profits, is parting. They are words often spoken by mothers, And repeated by grandmas and others, Fisher Price is appalled ‘Cuz they can’t be recalled: “Just go play with your sisters and brothers!” Related posts: Ask Kids about Mom and Dad On Board Computers The Sun Mystery

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Homeward Drowned

They say that you cannot go home— You never can go back! I’m here to take exception, and Encourage you to pack Your grip, and quit your worthless job, And terminate your lease, And drag your furniture outdoors, And burn it, piece by piece, And call the Postal Service, and Exterminate your mail, And cancel all your credit cards, And don’t forget to fail To call the county coroner, And tell him that you’re dead, But not to pick your carcass up— You’re going home, instead! And, when your bus pulls into town, Prepare to be bereft: Because, in twenty…

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Calling All Richards

The difficulties of this world Are big and bad and mean, And charged with such uncertainties To make solutions lean. But, if you would indulge, per chance, This simple minded cuss, There’s overwhelming evidence The problem is named, “Us.” There’s way too many of us all Including me and you And, barring wars and meteors, The answers are too few. There’s way too many Lindsays and There’s way too many Dawns, There’s way too many Trevors and There’s way too many Seans. There’s way too many Meagans And there’s way to many Ricks. There’s never enough Richards cuz There’s way…

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Daddy’s Diary

I found my daddy’s diary tucked Beneath his attic mess, And, lettered on the cover was, “The Secrets of Success.” I feared it would be bulging with Some windy, long laments; But when I opened it I found Three simple stanzas, hence: “To know someone, don’t listen As their lofty talk ascends, Instead, just look at what they’ve done, And who they choose as friends. And learn what you do badly, and Stop doing it, pall mall, So you can concentrate and grow In that which you do well. And, most important in your life In love, or work, or…

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The Sun Mystery

In June the sun was coming up Before the crack of dawn, But, now, the thing is hold out, Not only that, but gone To bed at night much earlier— Three minutes, by the day!— And while I know this can’t be true (It’s summer; I’m at play) The trend seems clearly ominous (I’ve calculated stuff), By Christmas, it won’t shine at all And there won’t be enough Daylight and its resulting heat To keep my footsies warm And I might think of growing fur And there might be a storm And it might even snow and I Might have…

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Sell By

by Doug “Rabbit” Sutherland I never thought my barber would Destroy more than my hair. But, yesterday, he shaved my neck And drove me to despair! “What’s this?” he said. “Why, you’ve expired!” I said, “What do you mean?” He touched my neck, “It’s right back here– That place you’ve never seen. “We all have sell-by dates,” he said, “Tattooed behind our ears. We never, ever see them but For glimpses caught in mirrors. “And, then, of course, they’re backwards and Impossible to read, And, so, the implications are Impossible to heed.” It truly is ironic that I’d be the…

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Playing for Keeps

Keep those wheels of commerce turning; Keep those suckers greased. Keep those time share condos churning; Keep those suckers leased. Keep your looks your highest passion; Keep on buying shoes. Keep your children high on fashion; Keep ignoring clues. Keep five-dollar coffee pumping; Keep refining taste. Keep those plastic bottles dumping; Keep refueling waste. Keep those Hummers gassed and guzzled; Keep those engines hot. Keep your horse sense tightly muzzled; Keep the past un-taught. Keep The Truth from dimly blinking; Keep all wisdom gone. Keep America from thinking. Keep on keeping on. Related posts: 4-D Printers Disapproval New Year’s Vow…

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Up with Dogs

She’s given up on husbands, and She’s taken up with dogs. “Dogs shed,” she said, “and host some fleas, And, sometimes, eat my clogs, “But, all of life’s a trade-off, and In weighing tit for tat, It’s clear to me that husbands lose! That dogs are where its at! “Dogs never stop me asking for Directions when I’m lost, Or, when I have a headache, pout, Like they’ve been double-crossed; “Dogs never raise their eyebrows when My Visa bills come in, Or, go into a tizzy, like It’s some kind of a sin When Brian, my old boyfriend, calls Who’s…

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Fun Raiser

by Doug “Rabbit” Sutherland I’ve noticed, public radio’s Stopped begging for my car, Regardless of it runs or not Or if it’s plagued with tar! Apparently, they’ve changed their minds: They want my wife, instead! And, if I hesitate or balk, Then NPR is dead! Their pitch is quite familiar as The radio explained: They’ll tow her off regardless of The hundred pounds she’s gained, While celebrating loudly that At last, she will be free, Will earn a super tax break and, To boot, be rid of me! I have but one condition to Impose to grease the skids: They…

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The Fountain of Truth

I hear I’ve no requirement to Be growing old and worn, No scientific reason to Be wrinkled and forlorn. No deconstructing chemistry That can’t be turned around To make my failing body right And tight and bright and sound. No breakdown of my systems that Smart doctors can’t reverse Returning my deposit on That black and shiny hearse. No single, solitary thought That any mind can think That justifies my plunging from The geriatric brink! Except for this endorsement in Mortality’s behest: I’m sick and tired of all this crap; I need a good, long rest! Related posts: Horoscopes for…

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