The President as Playwright

You play in an absolute farce
And your role you cannot quite parse
Plunge the bleach to your vein
It will ease Covid's pain
Then shove Ultra V lights up  your arse.

Hoof Ardette,  SJ

Not my First Cowboy

You’re not my first cowboy

You’re a handsome man who looks fine in jeans

You’re almost authentic, but your boots are too clean

Still I’m tempted to tumble, though I know where that leads

From now till the dawn, all hurry, all speed

And after your coffee you’ll be ready to go

You ain’t my first cowboy

And this ain’t my first rodeo.

You think that I’m new here, and don’t know this set

But I’ve been here before, in other towns I’ll forget

And I’ll forget this one, unless you’re the best

Not just one more who wants me who seems like the rest

Of the wannabe cowboys who don’t quite catch the flow

You’re not the best cowboy 

And this ain’t my first rodeo.

Let’s drop all this posing, all these postures and acts

And get to down to business and deal in straight facts

No that’s not right, either, it’s uncomfortable, too

I don’t have to be me, you don’t have to be you

Let’s spend this night happy then let it all go

I’ll pretend you’re a cowboy

Pretend it’s my first rodeo.

                                         

  Delia S. Gahn

Merci, Adam Smith

Merci, Adam Smith

I’ve got more to pay out than my pocket can stand
No relief for a woman or man here in this land
Now I never called that banker my friend
But I feel I’ve been spanked by the invisible hand.

Perhaps it’s my fault that this all came to pass
But I did not declare war on the privileged class
Though they think that I’m vulgar, at best a bit crass
And they force me to kiss the invisible ass.

They say the problem is mine, right there at its root
But a normal guy would go off on a toot
When they place the blame and say that it’s moot
Who or what kicked me with an invisible boot.

I may not be bright, but I’m not all that dim
And I have a hunch that it’s not me but him
I mean Adam Smith, who worked out at the gym
And then beat me up with a mean phantom limb.

I get tired and fed up, but I never sass
When they turn their backs and release all that gas
And the odor is awful, a pungent morass
When one must keep kissing invisible ass.

I once had a job from which I was canned
Cause I did not fit in with the corporate brand
And I’ll never say that I think that they’re grand
And I’m going to bite the invisible hand.

Eulick McCreavis

Republican health care

(From 20170

The Republican health care plot
Is all about what it is not
It’s not about wellness
But instead go-to-hellness
With whatever disease you have caught.
…………………………………Eulick McCreavis

Winged Victory?

He comes as a bird
To show His love
Think of Leda and the swan
Mary and the dove.

A rustle of wings
A coo or a honk
"Nice birdie" she says
And then they bonk...................Hoof Ardette, SJ

Sometimes I Always Drink Too Much

This morning's attempt at a country song:

Sometimes I Always Drink Too Much

I’m nervous and anxious and out of touch
I can’t find the time for the self-help books
I look everywhere and see dirty looks
So sometimes I always drink too much.

She says I’m no good and this and such
That I don’t pay attention to anything good
I’m too close or distant, don’t do what I should
So sometimes I always drink too much.

Drink too much, drink too much
I hide out at the bar and don’t make a fuss
The booze is my friend, confidant, and also my crutch
Sometimes I always drink too much

Sometimes I always drink too much
Then I’ll curse and I’ll fight and act like a putz
I’ll stagger and stumble and lose everyone’s trust
Sometimes I always drink too much.

Eulick McCreavis (Eulick assures me that there are more stanzas to come--Perk). Copyright:Eulick McCreavis and Mike Perkovich

Theology

Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins are often so strident that I, an atheist, think of them as nagnostics.

Drunk gifts

An idea whose time may never come: a website dealing in bar accesories--Toys for Sots.

Winged Theology

He comes as a bird to show His love,
Think Leda and the Swan, Mary and the Dove.

Hoof Ardette, S..J.

Witch narrative

An idea for a narrative: The women (or men and women) in a highrise martyr a witch. Their proof:
In the laundry room, no one has ever seen her search for a singleton sock--hers always come out in pairs. Her permanent press items come out actually fresh and ironed looking. Her fitted sheets are always folded into perfect, flat, squares.

A Song of Plenty

 

A Song of Plenty

Oh, we’re the cops and firemen, and the teachers, too.

You think we’re there to help you, but we want to stick it to you.

Our salaries run up deficits, although it’s kept hush hush

All we cost the country would make old Wall Street blush.

The bankers take home little, just enough to fill their pools

And their club dues, fill their Prius, and buy their wives some jewels.

A European vacation is the least that is their due

Because they’re job creators, not like me and you.

They fix all of the interest rates, and trade on inside dope

It keeps the country going, a gives us lots of hope

You should not ever question that, unless you are a mope

They bust their hump collectively, it surely is a cope.

And if they fill their coffers with pension funds galore

It’s just because they need it, cause life might be a bore

If they did not have the moolah to buy and sell and trade

And without it they would fade.

They slog away to keep us safe, to teach our children, too

Oh wait, that’s us--I mean it’s me and you

Who guard their homes, put out the fires ,and teach their kids each day

And they want us to keep quiet, or they’ll take our jobs away.

Eulick McCreavis

And

Mike Perkovich

George Sand

Aurore Dupin, er, George Sand
Would opt for the wild not the bland
She had no use for the priests
And her books never ceased
And she never stopped rockin' Chopin.

Debussy Fields

Jesus Fix My Drip

That nasty old drip and the burn

That announces the clap in the morn

Please Jesus Please cure it

Don't make me endure it

And next time I'll stick with the porn.

Eulick McCreavis

Skeptical Noyes

Let's hear it for Rufus King Noyes

The most skeptical, honest of boys

He dismissed all the gods

Cause they gave hot fantods

And gave no equivalent joys.

Debussy Fields

When Freud explained Group psychology

It wasn't by way of apology

To him it seemed strange

And sometimes deranged

But he managed to say it quite stodgily.

Debussy Fields

Let’s leave our wives and get gay married

Our feelings  simply won’t be buried.

Let’s leave our wives and get gay married.

The straights won’t mind if we ruin their marriage

Mismatched sexes outweigh that carriage

It just can’t take that wear and tearrage.

But we think their weddings cute

Her in her gown and him in his suit

And then they breed our new recruits.

Ladies!

Let’s leave our guys and get dike wedded

With bed and breakfast, but mostly bedded

Let’s leave our guys and get dike wedded.

The fellas won’t mind if we go away

They have each other, so they can play

Nice with each other, and swing and sway.

They’ll find a crank that they can turn

And find it’s better to marry than it is to burn

That’ll teach ‘em, if only they’ll learn

That they can leave their wives and get gay married

And those yearnings simply won’t stay buried

Fellas leave your wives and get gay married.

                                                                        Eulick McCreavis

Leonard Cohen Parodies

LC Opts for Number Two I’m in my bathroom all alone
Singing in a monotone
Looking at razors and feeling forlorn
Should I look at razors? Should I look at porn?
Now I’m in kitchen fixing a Pop Tart
A song is my answer, singing’s my art.
There’s a knife by the toaste--should I stick it in?
Or should I bite this Pop Tart and continue to sin?
Here in this treehouse it’s never so dim
As when the sun has gone down and I’m out on a limb
Should I slip on this noose and jump off and quit
Or squat o’er the sandpile and take a big shit?
Now in the study, looking at books
I glance in the mirror and curse my sad looks
Should I give it all up and cut my own throat
Or get a new nose job and a vicuna coat?
Now to the bedroom where I’ve stashed some pills
They’d stop the fight twixt my soul and my will
But the porn from the bathroom has migrated here
I guess I’ll just whack it and to hell with my fears.
        
Canard Cohen

 LC Buddha Song:
The Way Your hair is golden, your buttocks are firm
Girls and boys see you and they start to squirm
You can light up a room that was given to gloom
You cavort, tease and flirt while the large shadows loom
And you deny that you know it, though you surely do
So what makes you think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like you?
You quote some old sutras and smile like you know
Some secrets that only the privileged can know
Your credentials are doubtful, your knowledge too glib
When you quote a koan it sounds like a fib
Your questions are those with answers too pat
With sartori waiting you’ll surely fall flat
So what do think that the Buddha would do
With a little trick like you?
Your spirit is wanting, though your body is nice
You think that you’re warm, but your touch is like ice
You do not think twice of the souls in your wake
I can’t quite convince them that your soul is fake
You look good in saffron while you’re chanting OM
By a lake or the Ganges you act like you’re home
Now what acts would the Buddha perform
On a little trick like you?
The Way it is waiting if you have the key
And the guru has said he won’t give it to me
But for you he’s wide open cause he’s charmed by your force
He’s pointing the way to the one and first Source
Your path might be thorny but he’ll get you there
With shoes for your soul and balm for your care
But I’ve washed his feet with my tears while he sneered at me
Why did I think that the Buddha would care
For a little trick like me?
                                                                           
 Canard Cohen

Nietzsche Limerick

Just when you thought that all was peachy
And Church was only a little bit kitschy
Then came college, it expanded your head
And you figured out that God was dead
We'd like to thank you, Friedrich Nietszche

Eulick McCreavis

Prayer?

I asked God to prove He existed by saving me from superstitious dimwits.

I rest my case.

Ponzi/pansy

If one asked a group of people to get involved in a plan to buy several gay bars, would it be a pansy scheme?