I wonder if the guidance counselor
At Hitler’s Alma Mater
Told him to “Just be yourself”
And then regretted it later.
Category Archives: Poems
A Six-Figure Sense Of Humor
She offered me a sandwich
And I said “Thank you dear.”
She sighed and asked “What would you do
“If I were to disappear?”
I said “I’d eat steak every day
“And be left with much more money.”
She scowled, so I bought her jewelry
And now she thinks I’m funny.
Filed under Poems
Watching the Debates
What you need to know about ducks
Is not as important as the fact
That every day a million fish
Are, by some birds, attacked.
Those fish cannot defend themselves
Against these violent birds
And it’s time for us to take a stand
And learn to use our words.
When I held political office
In a non-avian related capacity
I realized that my constituents
Viewed me as a guy with some sagacity.
Because of that, I make my case
That fish deserve love too
So vote for me in 2020
And also ducks. Thank you!
Filed under Poems
Why Mufasa Has A Handkerchief
Simba’s nose was stuffy,
And that became an issue
When the only Kleenex he could find
Was, alas, Scar tissue.
Filed under Poems
Disclaimer: This Poem Is False… My Wife Takes A Half Marathon
My wife stole 5,280 feet
On our honeymoon cruise down the Nile.
But that’s really ok,
‘Cause you know what they say:
Give her an inch and she’ll take a mile.
Filed under Poems
Why Philosophers Don’t Flirt (Cogito Ergo Sumthin’)
I saw Descartes sitting at the bar.
I asked “Can I buy you a beer?”
Descartes replied “I think not,”
Then I watched him disappear.
Filed under Poems
We’re All In The Mood For A Melody (And You Know The Rest)
“I’ve got a song for you Billy,”
The executive told Mr. Joel.
“It’s a song for the sad, lonely everyman
“And the pianist has a prominent role.”
“Sounds pretty fly,” Mr. Joel said,
“And I have but one simple request:
“I think we’ll have one short piano bit
“And let harmonica guy do the rest.”
Filed under Poems
How To Double The Size Of Your Congregation With OnePoem
The first layer of Hell is full
Of normal people. It is musty.
In the second layer are gluttons,
The slothful and the lusty.
The third layer’s for murderers,
And it smells like rotting poop.
Everyone else goes to the deepest layer
Where they play Taylor Swift on an infinite loop.
Filed under Poems
How To Choose A Favorite Sports Team
If their best player’s white
You’re not doing it right.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 