Monthly Archives: August 2017

Political Commentary < Forced Cheese Puns

When all was young

In the beginning

There was a big cheese

And we called it a king.

But the cheese was too big

For the peasants’ humble stomachs.

Though they had many plans

The situation continued to flummox.

So they cut up the king,

(Figuratively, of course)

And imposed their own rule

Through riot-based force.

Instead of a king

Who can do as he pleases

They had a republic

Of many smaller cheeses.

Yes, the peasants were the first

Of the modern free-staters.

They made cheeses smaller

And, thus, the cheese grater.

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Thanks Evil Empire!

I went to a church

Not confident one bit

About appropriate places

For me to sit.

Then a stormtrooper came

And yelled “pew, pew, pew!”

I am so very grateful

That now I know what to do!

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Something’s Fishy… And Also Gummy

If you teach men to fish

You’ll feed them forever,

But I find that sometimes

It’s a fruitless endeavor.

I taught fishing in Sweden

But to my dismay

They were still eating candy

The very next day.

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Apocalypse? Not Now!

Apocalypse’s horsemen

Were riding home one night

When the BMW of depression

Passed them on the right.

“I think we’re now outdated,”

Said Famine to his peers

So they let the horses loose

And went out to get some beers.

The horses ran to far off lands

Where they could eternally play,

And some lucky Harley-Davidson salesman

Got four new customers today.

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A Better Deal Than Gas Station Sushi!

Imagine for a moment a world in which the typical person lives about sixteen years before being enslaved by corporate overlords and enduring fifty years of ever-increasing toil simply to stay alive. 

In this world there is an individual who has escaped the never-ending cycle of despair, and each day he renews the hope of a few hundred people via moments of free, digitally-published, frequently-rhyming silliness. He is a beacon of cynical optimism, a daily reminder that you don’t have to be perfect (or even reasonably good) to make a difference.

Would you be willing to give 6-12 seconds of your wages to keep the beacon of hope alive?
OF COURSE YOU WOULD!

Well, I have a confession: The in-no-way-a-metaphor-for-this-writer protagonist in the suspiciously-similar-to-real-life fantasy world is actually me! (M. Night Shyamalan, feel free to use this as inspiration for your next film’s inevitable plot twist).

I’ve been thinking about monetizing this blog for a while. I hate ads, and I will never willingly force you to suffer through ads to access this content. Instead of that, I want to give you the chance to financially support me as much or as little as you want via Patreon.

For those of you unfamiliar with Patreon, it’s a membership platform that makes it easy for creators of great stuff to get paid, and gives you (the patrons) some fantastic rewards for your generosity.

This blog has just shy of 900 followers as I write this. If each of you contributed fifty cents a month (less than two cents a day), it would pay my rent for the month. If each of you gave one dollar a month it would almost double my annual income (actually true). [Yes ladies, I’m single]. So if you’re willing to help keep the light of silliness alive in an increasingly dystopian society of “those other guys” for less than the cost of gas station sushi (financially and otherwise), please consider supporting me via Patreon when it launches on September 24th.

Humanity thanks you, as do I.

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The Personified Double-Negative

Tyrants will be tyrants.

Braggarts will be braggarts.

These statements are self-evident

And fear no refutation.

Logicians will be logical.

Artists will be artistic.

So do or do not contrarians

Deserve their reputation?

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Onomatopoeia

There are certain words

That are written like they sound

Life “oof” and “pow” and “shimmer.”

They really do abound.

Then there are things that make no sound

Like plants and orange and schisms

Which would make great onomatapoeias.

That’s the case with “colloquialisms.”

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If The Shoe Fits…

I lived a life of luxury.

I thought I had it all

Until I met my true love

At the climactic royal ball.

Her dress had such a shimmer,

Like her slippers made of glass.

Her smile moved a mountain

And OMG dat ass!

We danced ’til past eleven

Before she fled into the night

Leaving my heart in tatters

And a slipper in her flight.

I picked up the glassy remnant

Of the girl who once was mine

And tried it on. Who would’ve guessed

We both wore a lady’s size 9?

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How Else Would You Pass The Time When You’re All Tied-Up, Half-Naked, And Waiting For Rescue?

I bet that back in elder days,

When dragons roamed the sky

And virgins all got kidnapped

To be rescued by some guy

That said virgins played a game

Where, in a future land,

They were ordinary citizens

Who love they did demand

From virgins playing games

In which they acted like a knight

Rescuing imaginary virgins

Kidnapped by dragons. Am I right?

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I Just Rattled This One Off… Hope It Wasn’t Too Boa-ring!

The snake was made uncomfortable

And it gave a gasp.

You might say it experienced

A pain in the asp.

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