Humor

    Disclaimer

    Because of this—that might happen.
    As a result of—there's a chance that ...
    I cannot guarantee it, if not administered properly.
    Since you may now understand there's a slight
    possibility that I might too—given all of the facts.
    Get it?
    Got it?
    By no means do I in any way claim that I am
    the one and only—officially licensed and team
    sponsored by Sears Craftsman Tools—in direct
    conjunction with Toyota Racing Development—
    Bad-Boy Poet.
    There is plenty of room for everyone.
    We are all around.
    I am bad.
    I'm a boy.
    The poet part is now for you to decide.
    Be nice, because I have marshmallows.
    Hey, we like s'mores too—and your point is?
    Just strap in and hush up, hmm?


    It's Always Raining

    High-pressure system
    with nary
    a cloud in the air,
    the weather so fair,
    but then
    it's always raining
    in my head.
    No coastal Eddy.
    No monsoonal Flo.
    The turtles take
    a pounding
    because
    they move
    so damn slow.
    And, as per usual,
    it's always
    raining in my head.
    I had better check
    the Channel Seven
    Eyewitness News
    live
    Doppler
    radar.
    Simi winds
    are always blowing
    out of my mind.
    And, just in
    the nick
    of my
    totally wasted time,
    I begin
    to gather my
    boxes of rain
    that
    fell
    mainly on the
    plains in
    Bahrain.


    Gasoline

    I've been oh so cold
    for oh so long,
    fragile inside but
    I seem so strong,
    so fat in the head
    but I look so lean.
    I love putting out the fire
    with some gasoline.
    Dressed to the nines with
    clothes that are ragged,
    a butter knife was dulled
    by a spread that was jagged.
    Rising from the milk, let me
    show you my cream.
    First I'll put out the fire
    with some gasoline.
    At one time so molten it
    seemed I was on fire,
    gained the control but
    soon lost my desire.
    I meant to be nice yet
    I gleam when I'm mean.
    I'll just blame it on more
    heat from my gasoline.


    Model Year-End Clearance Sale

    Hi, friends! Ralph Williams here—
    Yes, it's model year-end clearance time once again.
    It's time to trade up, folks, so, bring that used clunker back in
    here, and then you can again experience that new-car smell.
    Forget all the phony factory rebates—we have them every day!
    Free hot dogs for the kids—and we even have plenty of games
    for the little brats to help keep them quiet while you are busy
    beating me up like a red-headed step-child that talks smack—
    I mean hurry in, because you just won't believe your eyes!
    Damn Tourette's fucks me every time.
    Come one, come all!
    You're really going to have yourself a ball.
    Remember, as always,
    se habla español!


    Pole Position

    I want to start just one race not
    so far back in the pack.
    I want to begin in pole position.
    Let me see how I can do
    in pole position.
    Let them all come to me.
    Fresh start,
    lead the way,
    drive hard,
    kiss my tailgate,
    quick pits—
    Just one race
    I want to start in pole position,
    low on the turns and accelerate
    hard on that long straightaway.
    See the checkered flag?
    Now it's time for the backflip.
    Where's my bottle of sour milk?


    Don't Hate the Player

    Hey, don't hate the player.
    Get your hate on the game.
    I'm the same old bad boy
    with just a different name.
    Seventeen long years ago
    everything was all the same,
    but then the crazy traveling
    sent me to the zoo again.
    So please hate the game
    and not this franchise player.
    Are you a glass half full or
    another wise naysayer?
    Should I scarf some emerald Vicodin?
    Or pop another Bayer?
...