So Trump accepted a gifted plane
Worth half a billion dollars
Which prompted a lot of random folks
To become morning radio callers.
But with regards to blame
And deciding on whom to pin it
You should know the rain in Spain
Is apparently mainly in it.
Filed under Poems
This is Spot.
Spot is a dog.
Spot spots his “spot spot”
(Where spot peed on a log).
Spot spotted Spot’s “spot” spot
In Spot’s “spot spot” spot
But Spot’s spotter, Miss Potter,
Alas spotted not.
Since Miss Potter missed Spot’s spot,
In an act of good will
Spot pointed Miss Potter
But she spotted-not still.
Spot spotted Miss Potter
(His Spotter) her pay
And Spot spotted his “spot spot”
And sped on his way.
Filed under Poems
If you ever see an ostrich
Don’t hit it with a stick
‘Cause when it comes to fight or flight
You know which it will pick.
Filed under Poems
I can fart for fifteen seconds
With moist gurgles or without
And play almost two octaves
With my gaseous booty shout.
“That’s great,” said Mr. CEO
But they gave the job away
To somebody whose farts cannot
Be heard three miles away.
Filed under Poems
When you sit down in America
To have a cup of tea
You pull out your fine china
As if you aren’t the bourgeoisie.
Meanwhile, In China
Do they grab a fancy gun
And call it “fine america”?
‘Cause that’s sounds way more fun!
Filed under Poems
As a blogger, it’s satisfying
When I get a notification
That says a lot of people are viewing my site
And I check on the location
And see three-hundred thirty-seven
Views from Germany
And I know that for some reason
The spambots have chosen me.
Filed under Poems
Little do we know that Mr. Beast
Has been filming a new video
That he started in 1776
And here’s how it will go:
“I locked every good politician
“In a cage for 300 years
“And if they stay the whole time
“They’ll be recognized by their peers.”
Filed under Poems
There once was a gym teacher, Hank
Who I for one think we should thank.
He said, “Movement is bad
“And it makes me sad”
And so he invented the plank.
Filed under Poems
What if ghosts just fly around
To dig up the gossip on you
And that’s why they’re hiding under the sheets
And always whispering “OoOoOohhhh”?
Filed under Poems
Tonight, when playing pickleball
I did a little dance
While trying to smack that fickle ball
And oops! I ripped my pants!
I learned to play more cautiously.
Also, for what it’s worth
I’ve secured my reputation
As the whitest man on Earth.
Filed under Poems
The Daily Travesty 