Imagine a world where nobody
Has a butt of any kind:
Nobody would ever poop again
And nobody’d ask “But why?”
Pants wouldn’t be near as popular
And gym girls would work on their pecs
And some guys would probably fantasize
About lasses with the jiggliest necks.
No one would horde toilet paper
And fart jokes just wouldn’t exist
And I could go on, but I think my point
Has been made just with this little list.
Filed under Poems
I always wonder how it feels
To work in an apple orchard.
Is picking fruit for people’s meals
Akin to being tortured?
It can’t be that bad, you say
But what happens if you break a leg?
Those apples all day keep the doctors away
No matter how much you beg!
Filed under Poems
I know that there are anteaters
And I know that there are ants
And I think that this is proof
That life wasn’t made by chance.
The only thing I wish to know
Is why this brilliant creator
Took a look at spiders and said
“I’ll make the thing that eats them later.”
Filed under Poems
Y=X*0
Is a great mathematical hero
Because it refrains from doing crime
Despite running into its X literally all the time.
Filed under Poems
Sometimes I look back and wonder
“Why didn’t I spend more time studying
“How to write mission statements?”
Then I assemble a committee to discuss
Whether retrospection is amenable
To well-ordered, politically-correct society:
Results pending.
Filed under Poems
If you think your job is bad
I think I’ve got you bested:
Today I read on a rectal thermometer
“Each unit individually tested.”
Filed under Poems
Apparently, the color “peacoat”
Is sort of grayish-blackular
I would have thought it greenish
Given “pea” is in its vernacular,
Or perhaps a pale yellow
Would fit Peacoat’s pigmentation?
Alas, the color picker people
Lack an eight-year-old’s imagination!
Filed under Poems
If I had a roll of nickels
For every driver’s-ed I didn’t learn
I could make bus drivers angry
‘Til the dinosaurs return…
Filed under Poems
Mauve is a version of pink
That prettier than you might think.
It sounds like beigey-blue
But that’s just not true.
It was named for the mallow flower
And possesses an old-fashioned power
To make people yawn and complain.
It’s like a happy cocktail stain.
Filed under Poems
There once was a millennial parent
Who thought it completely apparent
That people online
Wanted to see their kids doing fine
But it turns out those people did caren’t.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 