Life In Washington State

Two inches of snow

Means schools are closed tomorrow.

Colorado laughs.

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Socialism: Free Trial Edition

If you’re tired of Trump

Then make the jump

To sunny Venezuela!

There you can shirk

And do no work

And the socialist state will pay ya!

You’ll save so much money

It isn’t funny

‘Cause there’s nothing for sale to buy

So if you bite your thumb

‘Cause there’s no food to bum

You can tell South America “hi.”

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AI Writes A Country Song

Today I’m bored and kinda tired,

For sure not feeling too inspired,

So a thought emerged within my head:

Let robots do my job instead!

So I was nit at all upset

When a robot said “I can write a rhyming couplet.”

I said “write me a country song,”

And here’s the poem that came along:

——————————————————–

See the hightailing of the cowboy,
I think he’s angry at the ahoy.

He finds it hard to see the horse,
Overshadowed by the rainy field of force.

Who is that yodeling near the saddle?
I think she’d like to eat the cattle.

She is but a rural addition,
Admired as she sits upon a position.

Her leather car is just a beer,
It needs no gas, it runs on steer.

She’s not alone she brings a dog,
a pet dog, and lots of parts catalogue.

The dog likes to chase a truck,
Especially one that’s in the dabbling duck.

The cowboy shudders at the country gun
He want to leave but she wants the bun.

——————————————————–

The poem’s bad, and I think it’s neat

That I am not yet obsolete.

Sure, technology is fun

But robots 0, human 1.

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Dear Washington…

Those who take the roles

Of conducting political polls

Should receive an MD

In proctology

For their research in helping assholes.

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The Last Jedi’s Valentine

A dozen roses can show your love

If flowers are what your love adores

But if you send a Rose Tico

You might accidentally kill Star Wars.

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Guest Poem By Michael Bay

There once was a musclebound maverick

Who lived on a houseboat back east

Whose hobby was arm-wrestling pythons

And whose fingers’ tattoos spelled out “B.E.A.S.T.”

A menace that threatened America

Made the president call him to arms.

Then there was a gratuitous explosion

And a lot of red flashing alarms.

So Maverick emerged from retirement,

Shook hands with some buddies from ‘Nam

Then one more gratuitous explosion

This time from a nuclear bomb.

A scantily clad 20-something

Kissed Maverick and gave him a knife

After which he confronted the menace,

There was a gratuitous explosion…

Thus endeth the big bad guy’s life.

Somewhere in there’s a Bugatti

And a shirtless training montage.

You might think this doesn’t make sense,

Thus explosions and décolletage.

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How To Write A Superbowl Ad

You start out with a robot

That’s been made with CGI

Who says one beer is best

With no compelling reason why.

Next you strip the advertisement

Of anything resembling humor

So you don’t provoke the many

With an “I’m Offended” tumor.

Then say “We love social justice

“So you should buy our calamari”

With the sincerity of a five-year-old

When they’re forced to say “I’m sorry.”

The result’s an advertisement

To appeal to a mob

That hates all corporations

But still needs them for their job.

I hope next year’s Sportsball expo

Doesn’t try to be so “woke”

And the 2020 vegans

Are prepared to take a joke.

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