Category Archives: parody

Roseanne, late night entertainer, lacking just a touch of social grace.

Whacked On Ambien. (Apologies To John Mellencamp.)

Here’s a little ditty about tact and Roseanne,
‘Bout how she twitted her career right down the can,
Of how high she rated, and of how she’s fallen so far,
How now neither ABC nor her agent want a bar of Ms. Barr.

What damage to her ‘good name’ Roseanne is wreaking,
(Though her joke is shared by a few, conservatively speaking,)
Now she blames sleep deprivation and Ambien for her faux pas-
But it’s her own witterings on Twitter that launched this falling star.

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A change for the better in the old monarchy of Swaziland. But better for who? Or whom? Who knows?

Ruling The Changes.

The good King of Swaziland
With one sweep of his hand-
Not to mention a Kingly decree-
Now reigns over the Kingdom of eSwatini.

For the Kingdoms King
It has a less colonial ring,
Old British tethers, now unbound;
His Majesty’s reasoning sounds sound.

Map makers the whole world through
Are left with reams of work to do, and undo,
The Kingdoms King revels in the change of name,
For his poor but loyal subjects life goes on the same.

Donald and the NRA’s Mr LaPierre see there’s a problem with school shootings. They looked at it, and, boy, have they got the problem cracked!

Principles Of School.

The Prez ponders on the question of the latest school shooting,
The NRA have found an answer that they’re keen on contributing,
The first priority for a teacher is to be a passable problem solver,
The second, say the NRA, is to aim to be be first class with a revolver.

Don and the firearms manufacturers think its a policy worth backing,
Although pupils may well be petrified knowing Sir or Ma’am is packing:
Those still attending Stoneman Douglas must feel a touch of concern-
Just how many bloody lessons does it take for one’s learned peers to learn?

Star Lore.

Star lore

A long time ago
In a gathering place
Far far way a young
ragged couple sought…

A babe, a boy, was born in a stable, so they say,
A gift, Heaven sent, by God, delivered down to save the day,
Or was the real miracle the concoction Mary happened to conceive?
If I were Joe I’d find this ‘God’s son’ Virgin mom malarky too much to believe.

When he walked through the door; In the heat of the moment we all make accommodations to base needs. Modern love, eh?

Something Special.

From across the crowded room
Their eyes met and he just knew
That this was The One to whom
His wishes must be relayed to.

He could only stop and stare,
He felt the longing, the desire,
For something so precious and rare
He’d risk the flames of Hell fire.

She suspected it was her dress
That had drawn his attention;
Nevertheless she had to confess
That was expressly the intention.

He stumbled for the words to say
Yet she did not mind him deliberating,
He might be taking a year and a day
But she stood, smiling, waiting.

Tremulously he opened his mouth,
Wordlessly he closed it again,
Confidence not so much going South
As going down the drain.

His eyes wouldn’t meet hers at all,
He tried to speak but his tongue didn’t obey,
He peered past her, at the wall
But she knew she just couldn’t walk away…

After an eternity, with stumbling voice
He spoke low, with slow deliberation,
She was delighted he’d made his choice
Though not by his mumbling conversation.

His words seemed to catch in his throat,
Yet sometimes silence can say so much,
So he wrote her a heartfelt note
And her hand trembled at his touch.

His missive written oh-so-sweetly
Was a simple but impassioned request,
She read it, and time stopped completely
As she crushed the parchment to her breast.

She gazed up at his expectant face,
His hopes, his wants could not be writ clearer,
She had waited long, with maidenly grace,
Now, smilingly she bade him to come nearer.

In his eyes she could see his yearning,
His pleasure she did not want to ignore,
And with fair cheeks hotly burning
She suggested something more…

Tho’ in the rowdy room no-one could hear
This was neither time nor place for idle chat,
When she leaned over he boldly cupped… her ear-
Said ‘Yep’ when she mouthed ‘Extra fries with that?’

Finding a winner is becoming a murky affair.

Mad And Destructive Streak.

Donald is done with all those diplomatic talks,
So he throws up his arms- and his Tomahawks,
Fifty-nine missiles rocket through the hot Syrian air-
Now good buddy Vladimir’s face wears an angry red glare.

Putin is looking puzzled and pained,
Relations with Don are apt to be strained,
They’ll find its tricky building fences
Since someone’s taken leave of his senses.

The Kremlin comes up with all manner of crazy things,
Put Don in charge and Putin would pull the strings?
Vladimir, I fear you have an angry tiger by the tail,
Let’s pray cool heads- and the world- will prevail.