Memento Mori

MEMENTO MORI

 

How fragile man's designing schemes

With fleeting glory gone

From Khufu and his pyramids

To conquerors like Sargon.

 

Mere sputniks in the cosmic chain

Or chips at a casino.

Diminishing forevermore

Like porch potato Zeno.

 

And who's to mourn their passing on?

Or give them praise that's soaring?

Not me, you sure can bet your life;

In class I found them boring.

 

And now our modern warriors,

So long on Favor's List,

Are fading fast into the night.

I don't think they'll be missed.

 

Fred Thompson has dropped from the race,

His ratings in the potty.

But he'll console himself at home –

His wife is one sweet hottie!

 

Now Guiliani bites the dust,

His campaign pretty tacky;

He joins the ranks of Lollards and

That Roman family Gracchi. 

 

That good ol' boy from way down South

Is throwing in the towel.

John Edwards will be shacking up

With cousins cheek by jowl.

 

The rest of you still in the fray

Take heed, unlike the Inca,

Reject cruel pride and rhetoric

And do not be a stinka.

 

Your day will come, you will recede,

Though everyone adores you.

One word from Limbaugh or Oprah

Means everyone abhors you.

 

And should you make it to the heights,

To Washington, D.C.

Do not forget that four brief years

Is all you'll get from me.

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The Lame Duck

        THE LAME DUCK

 

The lame duck is a lonely fowl

Much treated to a kick or scowl.

He once was viewed with awe and dread

But now is called a bufflehead.

He still can quack with lordly clamor;

The noise is heard as katzenjammer.

All bright plumage turned to molt;

Hunters know he's shot his bolt.

A prey to every rat or louse

With feathered nest near his White House.

He dabbles with old-time religion

With many loons and lesser wigeon.

The jig is up, there's not a chancer

For this tired stale merganser.

Off he'll fly back to the pond

Where he hatched and where he spawned.

Migrating down south he'll be

Part of musty history.

And then he'll build, with stately waddle,

A library that's full of twaddle.

A lecture tour might be a thrill

But won't compare to Hillary's Bill.

And I suppose he'll write a book

As sure as Nixon was a crook.

The Chinese might say he was mock.

The Democrats might clean his clock.

His stimulus was mostly preen.

But still I'm sad he'll leave the scene.

His face was never all that loveler

Yet I shall miss old George the shoveler.

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MY HEART (AMONG OTHER THINGS) FOR SALE

         MY HEART (AMONG OTHER THINGS) FOR SALE

 

How nice to know if things get tough

That I can call my creditor's bluff

When with scarce funds I have to part

I'll hang FOR SALE on liver and heart.

Surgeons working far away

Can bid for me right on eBay.

I can do without a lung.

My small intestines make great dung.

A warranty upon my bones.

I guarantee no kidney stones!

I'll throw in my appendix free;

Just view my colonoscopy.

A cat scan of my fresh pink brain

Will show it's never had much strain.

And if you've got enough gold coins

You'll get a set of manly loins.

I'm selling skin now by the yard;

Just put it on your Mastercard!

My follicles sprout overnight.

My diaphragm is good and tight.

My feet are flat but that's okay;

My tendons are not built to fray!

Let's dispense with doctor's jargon;

Both my knee caps are a bargain!

Hurry up, I'd better warnya;

The dibs are thick upon my cornea.

With the chance for so much Kroner

Who wants to be an organ donor?

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Jan 27 2008

                    THE PUTZ AND THE PAUPER

 

 

Oh deary me – this is no joke;

How do I handle homeless folk?

They live in boxes under bridges,

Eat spoiled food thrown out from fridges.

The only wheels that they have gots

Is shopping carts from parking lots.

Their teeth are crooked, dripping algae;

Lonely brutes, without nostalgy.

Their French is bad, their Latin's worse;

They keep used Kleenex in their purse.

How I wish I had a buck

For each one who will claim bad luck!

Wearing clothes just ripe with vermin,

Never fans of Alan Sherman.

Often vets of different wars;

Ranting like psychotic bores.

Prone to petty theft I'm sure.

Drinking until life's a blur.

Unemployed and uninsured;

Sprinkled with their eau de merde.

There but for the grace of George

Would I go without my porridge.

Oh deary me – this is no treat.

When rates are low and credit's sweet

I ca afford to be blasé

About these vagabonds who stray.

But credit's tight, the Fed Reserve

Has all but nearly lost its nerve.

I fear my money in the bank

Has disappeared like young Anne Frank.

And mortgage payments have ballooned

While my career has Brigadooned.

My lifestyle I must rearrange

Or I'll be begging for spare change.

So starting from today on in

I'll treat my credit cards like sin;

Keep them hid and only use

When I feel like self-abuse.

Dining out won't be so common.

I'll dine in on Noodles Ramen.

Charities must feel the pinch;

They ask a mile, I'll give an inch.

Shut off my cell and use pay phones;

Boy, I'll miss those neat ring tones!

Recession times are only nectar

To the busy bill collector.

One is at my door – aw shucks!

I'll finish this down at Starbucks.

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IN THE BAG

     IN THE BAG

 

The plastic bag, when first employed,

A fad with markets soon enjoyed.

Your frozen food in paper sacks

Could not withstand such moist attacks.

With mushy sacks we all got caught

Out in the blasted parking lot.

Packing food in cardboard boxes

Crushed the bagels and the loxes.

Cloth bags seemed too hoity-toity;

Too elite and so John Voighty.

But plastic was the very stuff

To carry Birdseye or plum duff.

Then shopping trips quite oft became

A struggle all these bags to tame.

Compressed into the tightest ball

Around the house they still would crawl;

Snagging feet and plugging drains up,

Beating all our feeble brains up.

And so we threw them all outside

To roam the earth with ghostly glide.

They cover fields and smother fish;

From trees like foreign flags they swish.

They do not rust, they cannot melt;

They make a lousy trousers belt.

And so to death and taxes add

This hollow plastic baggy cad.

If markets don't stop handing out

The plastic bag, without a doubt

The last thing that this world will be

Is plastic bag infinity.

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January 28 2008

                      CLAMORING KURDS

 

What do we do with these clamoring Kurds?

Other Iraqis think they're for the birds.

Turkey would love to commit genocide—

Shooting them up much like Bonnie & Clyde.

 

(Kurds make their yogurt from gingerroot milk.)

(Live in tents spun from brown camel hair silk.)

(Tell their kids stories about sheep and goats.)

(Wear thick suspenders and long belted coats.)

 

We could export them back to the U.S.

To shingle our roofs, our gardens to dress.

They would assimilate as others do . . .

Going on welfare while drinking a brew.

 

(History says that they drained the Black Sea)

(used it to float their own inland navy.)

(They believe dreams are important to keep.)

(Writ in a book called The Secret of Sleep.)

 

Or we could arm them with weapons galore –

Landmines and rifles and rockets that roar.

Letting them blaze away morning and night

At everything that comes into their sight.

 

(They were once known as Hum-Wat-negga-Boo.)

(Chopped up Crusaders for home-made beef stew.)

(Their alphabet has but one single vowel.)

(They have no word for the cotton hand towel.)

 

We could form them into one solid state

Bordered by countries just brimming with hate.

Send them an army to keep them secure,

Shedding our blood for their infrastructure.

 

(They always marry before age sixteen.)

(They are opposed to the color of green.)

(They bathe more often than Turks or Chinese.)

(End every prayer with a determined sneeze.)

 

What do we do with these Kurdy old pests,

Say that we're sorry while beating our breasts?

Leave them alone and get out of their hair;

Being their head lice is really unfair.

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The Second Coming

                         THE SECOND COMING

 

 

You can be happy!  You can be free

If you attend to the ads on TV!

 

Pizza Hut feeds you with sweet loving care.

Rogaine makes sure that you never lose hair.

Fruit of the Loom has got your underwear.

Budweiser makes all the chicks at you stare.

 

Prilosec keeps that bad heartburn at bay.

Charles Schwab will make you quite rich in a day.

Jenny Craig helps all your fat melt away.

Motel Six treats you like Queen of the May.

 

Nicoderm promises freedom from smoke.

Centrum keeps old folks from having to croak.

Visa lets you spend no matter how broke.

Activon will improve your golfing stroke.

 

Walmart has got everything on the cheap.

MetLife insures that your money you keep.

Oil of Olay forbids old age to creep.

Ambien means there's no more counting sheep.

 

Plavix will flush out those clots near your heart.

Glade will disguise the most treacherous fart.

Orbit chews soft and will never go tart.

Macy's will dress you to look very smart.

 

Crest gives you teeth that are whiter than white.

Maxwell House coffee starts your morning right.

KFC brings all the kids home at night.

Hallmark proves clichés are never too trite.

 

Netflix sends movies right into your house.

Revlon will tantalize your torpid spouse.

All-State uncertainty surely will douse.

Disneyland shows we are all Mickey Mouse.

 

You can be happy!  No Second Coming

Can equal the pleasure of TV's mind-numbing.

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Hello Dummy!

HELLO DUMMY

 

This blessed year 2008

We chose a write-in candidate.

One dark horse without much beauty

Known to all as grim Judge Judy.

 

She wasted no time on mere blab.

She put the country in rehab.

Her first act as the president

Was charging Congress a steep rent.

 

"They have a warm place where they snooze

while children go without good shoes.

Prostituting their great power –

I will charge them by the hour!"

 

She then ruled that the Pentagon

Should all their weapons put in pawn

To buy each person in Iraq

A bodyguard against attack.

 

She lined up all the CEO's

To let the laid-off punch their nose.

And now she turns her beady eye

Upon what she calls "that pig sty."

 

She means, of course, the CIA;

They're put on unpaid holiday

Until, she says, birds learn to bark

Or Ringo Star becomes a narc.

 

Emulating Andrew Jackson

Her language is Anglo-Saxon;

"Morons!  Dimwits!  Ninnyhammers!

Jump out of those silk pyjammers!"

 

"Office holders better wake up

unless leaves they like to rake up!"

"And postage stamps are now a dime

but junk mail I decree a crime!"

 

Our U.N. rep she quickly sacked,

Then read out loud the riot act:

"Red China, you pollute the world;

and from this joint you should be hurled!"

 

"Yo, Putin, you Slavonic shrimp,

you've got more hot air than a blimp!"

"Iran had better watch their step;

I'll show them atom bombs with pep!"

 

"The North Koreans don't scare me.

I'll gas them with their own kimchee!"

"That OPEC better cheapen oil

or in it I will have them boil!"

 

We clawed each other's backs with joy –

This lady was no tinker toy!

Judge Judy made the fat cats squirm,

Encouraging the turning worm.

 

But then she went a bit too far

And called for feathers and some tar

To treat with those who owed back tax

Or credit cards began to max.

 

"Go get a job, you deadbeat scum

or on the rack your guts I'll strum!"

"There are no laws that you can break

and no excuse that you can fake!"

 

We sickened as we realized

Our problems we had super-sized.

We begged Congress to impeach her –

She was such a nagging creature!

 

 

 

Congress, itching to get even,

Set to work her shroud a-weavin'.

So her gavel and invective

Finally made her defective.

 

Her V.P. stepped up to the plate

To navigate the ship of state.

I'm not sure we're free of pickles . . .

Our new leader is Don Rickles.

---

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REBATE REDUX

REBATE REDUX

Blow the trumpets, swing the gates;
Everybody gets rebates!

Food shelves hand out pork and beans.
Down-sized folk sell magazines.
Bankers cannot count their liens.
Rebates make us kings and queens!

Pat old Bush upon the back;
He sees white but never black.

Everybody's lost their lease.
Bankruptcies do sure increase.
Bill collectors never cease.
Rebates are the golden fleece!

Factories are making rust.
Pension plans all turn to dust.
Every boom contains a bust.
Rebates are a sterling trust!

Military actions show
Someone has a lot of dough.

Parents mourn for fallen sons.
Ghettos blaze with cheap handguns.
Like a stocking, Wall Street runs.
Rebates! Holier than nuns.

Shaking down the money tree;
There are nuts for you and me!

Baby boomers going broke.
Chubby kids are prone to stroke.
Not the rich, but poor we soak.
Rebates are the magic cloak.

In this great land of the free
How about a shopping spree?

Credit cards spread like disease.
Fortunes squandered on TVs.
Gussets weaken at the knees.
Rebates make the custard freeze!

Happy days are here again;
AIDs strikes down but one in ten!

Mortgages become black holes.
Loans are juggled like hot coals.
We've already sold our souls.
Rebates play well at the polls.

Beat the drum and strip the gears;
Rebates will dry all our tears!

_________________________________________________________________
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THE TASER
 
Law enforcement practices are better than before;
no more now the billy club, the rubber hose, the gore.
Instead they have the taser -- delightful little plug! --
that gives you an electric untraceable bear hug.
So you fall down into a swoon, a few teeth you might lose;
but bleeding-heart attorneys will never find a bruise.
Don't I wish I had one to carry down the street
to zap the slow panhandler and others I may meet.
I'd love to share it's spirit and invigorating buzz
with bullies like state troopers and other kinds of fuzz.
 

---

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The Telescope

                    THE TELESCOPE

 

Science and religion do not like each other well;

One is always prying while the other preaches hell.

Galileo said the earth revolves around the sun;

The Pope warned Galileo that this doctrine he should shun.

Darwin pondered nature's way of filling in blank slots;

Defenders of the pew said leopards cannot change their spots.

Stem cell research might just help to stamp out all disease;

But it makes the pious fall upon their stubborn knees.

Faith is something you cannot put into a test tube;

And calculus still separates the scholar from the boob.

 

It came to pass that scientists propounded a grand theory

That left the church-attending folk feeling mighty leery.

According to this theory every particle of light

Could be transferred by telescope to man's dim mortal sight.

All the past and present, and all future ages, too,

Could be taken in at once with panoramic view.

"Blasphemy!" the faithful cried; "'twould be another Babel";

the scientists all curled their lips at such faint-hearted rabble.

"Such vision, if accomplished, would indeed make us like God."

To which the churches of the world could only reply: Fraud!

The building of this telescope began with great fanfare;

There was rioting and bloodshed and goodwill was very rare.

Armies marched and nations clashed and angels, if they're real,

Wept to see the innocent wiped out with holy zeal.

At last the thing was finished and stood ready to be used;

They turned it on . . . and what they saw left nobody amused.

After a brief flicker what they saw looked like a man;

He had another telescope turned on them to scan.

Silence reigned upon the earth, then with a queasy shrug

The scientists decided that they'd better pull the plug.

The treasures of the earth had gone into that great machine;

But nobody was willing now to say what it might mean.

 

The weary world went back to work to build what was destroyed.

No one was very anxious to make that lone man annoyed.

For when they looked upon that man, everyone was seized

With the feeling that with them he was not very pleased.

Faith became much humbler and scientists decided

That no man's system of belief ought ever be derided.

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The Taxing Trolls

THE TAXING TROLLS

 

Deep in caverns 'neath the earth the taxing trolls do dwell.

You cannot trace their handiwork by sight or sound or smell.

But when the dark of moon arrives and sable bats do gibber

The taxing trolls all must creep out to haunt the saint and fibber.

Their eyes glow red, their teeth are green.  Their breath smells like a sewer.

Their skin is warts from stem to stern; they turn to stone the viewer.

So when we rise from our soft beds to seek some breakfast snacks

We find that overnight we're stuck with some new wicked tax.

It might be on our gasoline or cookies made with figs;

It might be on pink hula hoops or bowling balls or pigs.

But when we storm the marble halls of Congress for to cuss,

Our mealy representatives just stare and say: "Who, us?"

"We never laid a finger on your wallet – cross our souls.

It must have been those nasty grasping midnight taxing trolls."

The President is not to blame; his voice is most sincere:

"I haven't raised a single tax since I quit drinkin' beer."

Nobody wants to take the heat for squeezing us the harder,

Reducing the economy to welfare checks and barter.

Yet up they creep, those taxes drear, and no one is the wiser

How those greedy trolls can gnaw our wealth with keen incisor.

Whatever treasure you may hoard those fiendish trolls will find it

And with a calculating grin with some odd tax they'll bind it.

I cannot tell you all the ways their taxes make me sorry

For now I've just discovered that they've slapped one on this story!

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The Senator Gives a Speech

THE SENATOR GIVES A SPEECH

 

The senator got up to speak.  His audience was ready.

They knew he was a patriot; he told them so quite steady.

Gay bunting hung about the place and flags dripped from the ceiling.

So many mikes around the stand – they'd send Marconi reeling.

A news release had told the press his speech would be inspiring.

Reporters hoped it would be short and might say he's retiring.

Once all applause had died away and each mike had been tested

The senator got under way and common sense molested:

"I come before you all today to speak of things specific.

A criminal conspiracy that's spreading and terrific!"

"No corner of our nation's safe from these illegal entries.

Not even if our borders had a million eager sentries!"

"And once they're in they do destroy our peaceful safe existence.

They must be met and turned right back with sturdier resistance!"

The subject didn't seem to stir the media completely.

The senator's own wife could not do much more than smile sweetly.

But then he pounded with his fist and this is what they all heard:

"Much more must be done to defend the purity of our word!"

"Too many words are sneaking in like chutzpah and cojones

that have no legal standing and are frivolous baloneys!"

"Greek and Latin are the basis of our national discourse

and I reckon just a smatter, just a smidgen of Old Norse.

Our lusty language is just fine without this foreign wingding.

We need not countenance such stuff from Bollywood and bling-bling!"

"So I propose we pass a law that makes a misdemeanor

of every word imported by a Frenchman or a Beaner."

The crowd looked for a wink or nod to show them he was kidding

But he kept up this antic rant and showed no signs of quitting.

(and all this time his wife kept on her smiling and her knitting.)

"In conclusion, we must hurry, pouncing like a lioness,

on undocumented phrases, helping out the INS!"

The story broke and made headlines.  The senator was roasted.

But cooler heads prevailed at last – He was Cabinet-posted.

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