Tag Archives: Humor

August 17, 2012 · 5:44 pm

Christian School Cheerleaders

When I was going to middle school

I attended an institution

Which followed Christian philosophy

As a sort of constitution.

 

When I went to high school, I made sure

That It was public, ’cause see here,

Public schools, unlike Christian ones,

Have squads of young leaders of cheer.

 

And frankly, I don’t think it’s fair

That those good Christian girls

Shouldn’t have the same oppurtunity

To shout inanities and do kicks and twirls,

 

So I assembled a brief list

Of appropriate Christian cheers.

So now still be Christian

And be immodest in your high school years:

 

Moses brought commandments a long time ago!
Jesus died on the cross to redeem your soul!
Goooooooo PURITANS!
Jesus crossed the Galilee!
Now we’ll high-kick modestly!
Gooooooo DISCIPLES!

How many goals we got? THREE!
How many goals they got? NUN!

Jesus loves the home team, and the visitors too!
But we now who is gonna win, and we hope that you do too!
Goooo BULL- DOGMAS!
On the first day God created light!
But today we’ll honor him and FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!
Goooooooo be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground. ”

In other news, I’m going to Hell.

The weather’s nasty, but the Company’s swell.

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August 15, 2012 · 9:37 am

Beavers

The beaver is an animal

That’s really pretty swell.

It’s Canada’s national animal

And it’s waterproof as well.

 

Gosh, I love the Beaver

As it slaps its tail on the water,

And it had a television show

Years before Harry Potter.

 

And guy, I find it snazzy

And I’d venture it’s spiffy too,

That beavers always give a damn

And about them, you can too.

 

So next time a beaver steals your lunch,

Instead of trying to retrieve it,

Just agree to part with food,

And to the beaver, leave it.

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August 12, 2012 · 10:13 am

Love is:

In the woman’s mind:

 

Love begins as a dove:

It is quiet, sublime, and simple.

Love evolves.

It becomes an eagle:

It must be strong to survive, and often it becomes vicious.

Then love is the space shuttle:

There is no limit to where it can fly, and you will see new places the rest of your days.

 

In the man’s mind:

 

Love begin as  a rooster in the suburbs:

It is noisy, the main point is cock, and it alienates you from your friends.

Love evolves, sort of like a Pokemon.

It becomes a Chinese Restaurant:

Basically, cock is still being put in mouths, but you’re not sure if this is what you ordered.

And remember, love is like flatulence:

If you have to force it, it’s probably crap.

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August 10, 2012 · 9:45 am

Good Morning Moon

Originally composed in 2012, this epic poem spans the bridge between treatise and children’s poetry.  It reveals to us our own ephemeral lifestyle of insults, mindlessness, depression, old ladies whispering “hush,” and the African tourism industry  Now, published for the first time, this masterpiece of modern literature, no, the definition of the future of art, is made accessible to the general public.  Also, the emperor’s new wardrobe has arrived).

 

Good morning room,

Good morning moon.

Why are you up in the day

You stupid buffoon?

 

Good morning chairs

Good morning bears.

Good morning kittens

And the hairballs they spittin’s.

 

Good morning clocks

And good morning socks.

And green eggs and ham rocks

In a box with a fox.

 

Good morning comb

And good morning brush.

I feel like a nobody…

My heart turns to mush.

(And something about an old lady

Whispering “Hush.”)

 

Good bye stars

And good bye air.

I’m going on vacation to somewhere in Zaire.

 

You get it, right?

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August 6, 2012 · 8:55 am

The Best Part of Waking Up

I never drink Folgers,

And I’ll let you know why.

That slogan they say

Is a big stinkin’ lie!

 

No matter what model

They hire to promote

Their instant coffee,

The chance is remote…

 

That they’ll realize

The secret we keep:

The best part of waking up

Is going back to sleep!

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August 5, 2012 · 12:30 am

Birthday Poem (for my Sister)

Dear sister, on this special day,
That occurs in August instead of May,
You’re twenty-one! Yay oh yay!
And so I mean to simply say
Happy Birthday Katy!

You make you joyful when I’m sick,
And our shared gutter mindedness is quite slick.
I mean that in a good way, not like “ick.”
You get what I mean by that, ’cause your mind is quick.
Happy Birthday Katy!

Today you can have a gun or drink alcohol.
You want to do one of those, the other not at all.
This being on a blog, people will likely not comprehend the correct option, ’cause they’re not as smart as you. Not at all!
(And if my readers are mad at my rudeness or my long lines, I’ll take the fall).
Happy Birthday Katy!

And thus your birthday is immortalized by a travesty,
As was your full name by the hurricane that started with “Katri…”
This poem’s going downhill if you see what I see,
So I’ll sign off now. Thank you Sus-comma-Je!
Happy Birthday Katy!

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August 1, 2012 · 11:56 pm

What I Like To Do

I have lots of hobbies.

I like working with my hands.

I spray my garden with my hose

And spray the fertile lands.

 

I like to pet the heads of snakes

And hear them hiss with glee.

I like big sandwiches, especially foot-longs,

Because they’re similar to a part of me.

 

I like long tubes and guys named Richard

Who go by their nicknames.

I like roosters (take a guess why),

And playing all sorts of games.

 

I also like innuendos,

And I hope you do too.

But if you didn’t, I’ll not fix my mistake,

And you’ll go on thinking this poem blew.

 

But if you enjoyed what I did

For you this summer eve.

I guarantee I’ll come again,

And with that, I now leave.

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July 23, 2012 · 11:35 pm

Prelude to “Left at the Altar”

I observe in the world some ridiculous things

In which men and women fall in love and wear rings.

They dress in nice clothing and a church choir sings.

They call this strange custom a wedding.

 

Now from my point of view this could be simplified

By giving a gift and agreeing to abide

By the rules of agreement, which mutually signed

Would much simplify this custom of weddings.

 

A man should give to the women he loves

A fishing rod, radio, wrenches, and gloves,

And then he gets drunk and says something ’bout “chuvs”

And he’s now satisfied with a wedding.

 

A woman, following in her man’s example

Might give her loves roses or a new perfume sample.

The possibilities of gifts would be thoroughly ample

And would well take the place of a wedding.

 

And once this process is finished, the man and his wife

Are unsatisfied with their gifts and the course of their life,

And no one gets married, has kids, or has strife

And humanity dies without weddings.

 

Well actually that does not sound very good.

Life without weddings is not how be it should.

I’m sorry I questioned you darling. ‘Twas rude,

Now we’re off to our big stupid wedding!

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July 21, 2012 · 5:45 pm

Statuesque

Two statues stood in a park

Gazing at each other.

One of them was a naked man,

The other his naked lover.

 

A fairy came to them one day

And gave to them a present.

She let them live like human beings,

(Or at least to live like peasants).

 

The statues thanked the fairy,

But the fairy warned them this way:

“You must return in fifteen minutes

That’s all the life for today.”

 

The statues then retired

Into a nearby bush.

Some giggling was audible,

And certain things went “woosh.”

 

They then returned to the fairy,

Who looked at them quite oddly.

“You still have seven minutes left,

Why not make them as Godly?”

 

So the statues looked at one another,

And the woman, to the man, said

“Alright, this time I’ll hold the pigeon

And you poop on its head!”

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July 13, 2012 · 9:10 am

The Oregon Trail (Last post for a while)

I’m headin’ down South on the oregon trail,

So this poem is my last

For one long week, but cry not friends,

I’m sure it’ll go by fast.

 

I just hope we do not have

To ford a river crossing,

And that we don’t get dysentery

And can continue flossing.

 

And should our wagon wheel break

We’ll fix it by ourselves,

‘Cause trading with Indians is not politically correct,

And we can’t trade with elves.

 

And should we die along the way

We get to leave a tombstone

That tells others who come this way

That we did meet our doom-stone.

 

So farewell to those whose childhood

Was full of these Oregonian fails.

For those of you who don’t understand,

Here’s a link, and happy trails!

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