Category Archives: satire

Fifty years and billions of bucks ago we went boldly forth, shootin’ for the moon. Now we can look up and say ‘been there, done that.’

Twinkle In The Sky.

It was fifty years ago on this auspicious day
Neil Armstrong had these prophetic words to say,
‘One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind,’
Before stepping out to see what in Heaven he might find.

Will there be diamonds, just lying around?
Will there be gold, or the good oil underground?
A planet full of platinum- or plutonium- ours to take?
Some star-spangled silver to make into a lunar keepsake?

And what worldly wonders the brave spaceman saw;
Just rocks and dust, dust and rocks, rocks by the score,
Dutifully into the sample satchel Neil tossed in the rubble;
A dumb bag of rocks costing all this time, travel and trouble.

See that tiny twinkle, fading on the moons crust?
Fifty years on Apollo 11 sits, forever gathering dust,
Back on Earth NASA scientists say it has all been worth it;
Pity NASA’s accountants, they’re still struggling to unearth it.

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New Zealand lose to England in the Cricket World Cup. NZs captain Kane is a fine example of accepting the bitter pill of defeat. Myself? Altogether less understanding.

Not A Prayer At Lords.

There’s no more gracious loser than that humble Black Capped bloke,
Though handicapped by the International Cricket Councils ruling joke-
Backing England to win on boundaries, the latest of their master strokes-
Including that deflected six from that lucky bast- batsman, Master Stokes!?

Inclement weather upsets patriotic Presidents Independence Day blusterings.

The Big Show Off.

On July the Fourth, Independence Day
President Trump put on his great display,
The Air Force planes soared and roared overhead
As Donald addressed his MAGA cap waving sea of red.

It was quite the show of militaristic might,
A tip of the hat to the old, the traditional, the white,
Then down came the rain, soaking the poor crowd through,
Between the rains and the planes Don screamed himself blue.

An Alabama Ford dealership offer you an unholy trinity of extras. Are you ready and all tricked out for the highway to heaven?

Backfire.

Let us give our thanks to our sweet Lord
For the sweet deal goin’ down at Chatom Ford,
Buy any fine Ford, Focus, Ranger, Rapture or 4 x 4
And here at Chatom Ford we say whoa, there’s more…

You get a ‘Merican flag, a bible and a gun,
Damn, it’s a deal hotter than Hel-the Alabama sun,
Won’t that flag look purty waving on your pickup?
And that gun is sure to come in handy on any stickup.

But you won’t find me singin’ the good Fords praises,
Ever since I trashed my Pinto all Fords can go to blazes,
I won’t believe a blessed word Chatom Ford may say,
God willing, I’ll keep rolling in my Chevrolet till Judgement Day.

We welcome the winter solstice in the southern hemisphere. Even when I try to escape into fantasy I find it’s still a cold cold world. Oh yeah, spoiler alert.

Chilled Out.

It’s a cold day in June and winter is here,
Over the land a chill bitter wind doth blow.

Now my nights drag on and on and I fear
This last winter of discontent only adds to the woe.

My hopes for the future faded, finale, mid-year,
Winter’s come and gone, and I’m soooo over Snow.

 

 

A dozen die in a shooting at Virginia Beach. Time to reach for the tissues and the cliches again.

That Same Old Familiar Feeling.

Sweet Jesus, just as one gun-nut falls, another fills the breech;
They’re sending their heart-felt condolences to Virginia Beach
Where yet another gun-totin’ disgruntled worker went ballistic,
God, aren’t these constant thoughts ‘n’ prayers sounding ritualistic?

 

The Rolling Stones front man goes under the knife for a little bit of maintenance. Time waits for no man, Mick my boy.

Surgery For The Ol’ Devil.

Old Sir Mick just keeps on a’rolling,
Geriatric Mick prefers jiving to strolling,
But now, in his seventies his step’s begun to stutter
His high-living past has set his stony heart all a’flutter.

A dickey heart valve needs refurbishment
For Micks old ticker’s taken some punishment,
There’s no doubt when it comes to wear and tear
Micks plucky organ’s done more than its fair share.

Now the old pump is suffering from overuse,
But in Micks case it sure ain’t down to self abuse,
Cigarettes and bad habits have contributed to his current issues
But his old wives and girlfriends won’t be reaching for the tissues.