I’m trying to attract more visitors
To this little blog o’ mine,
And, as you’d say to a stranger,
“Everything’s going fine.”
That said, with all the interest
On riots and anarchy,
I thought I’d write a poem
For those in national security.
Bomb, plastic explosives,
Do not fly to Baltimore.
Tomorrow night at noon.
[Unintelligible string of letters].
Shoe bombs and bomb swallowers.
That should give me some new views
(And maybe a few new followers).
There once were some NSA agents
Who wanted to start a band.
They dreamed everyone would watch them
Across their secure homeland.
One of the guys played the data bass,
And another tapped all the drums.
One filled out forms in the corner
And the boss just twiddled his thumbs.
And so formed the band, “The Observers.”
They lacked talent, but had admins galore.
They became a huge thing overnight,
Perfect for the news to ignore.
They sang of bureaucracy’s beauties
And of what you did in 2005.
They had mosh pits called “internet forums”
Wherever they concerted live.
The Observers still play on the weekends;
It’s a sensible thing to do
To get them pumped up for another week
Of the best show in town (which is you).
In unrelated news, I’m enjoying my stay on the “do not fly” list.
At first I was unnerved
By the thought of being observed.
But no longer do I utter groans.
Just think! A lass like me
Could help U.S. Security!
I smile at the very thought of drones.
They read my email and spam,
And when I’m on my webcam
I always throw those patriots a wink,
And if at night they watch
Some lucky guy might spy my crotch.
They give my life a gigabyte of kink!
So if you’re paranoid
You need not be annoyed
That big brother’s got his eyes on you.
Instead, it would be wise
To pity all the spies
Who have to watch the boring s*** you do.