Category Archives: stupidity

How to not go shooting in the woods. Prompted by the Chelsea Owens Hilarity contest. Oh, and sponsored by Smokey the Bear.

Dumber Jack.

Jack the Lad could barely wait to turn twenty-one,
To cast his vote, to drive, drink, (legal-like) and tote a gun,
To pick the biggest baddest gun you’ve ever seen,
To play the part, just like in that Soldier Of Fortune magazine.

Off out to the woods he went to bag him a bear,
Or a boar, a deer, doe or buck- a duck, Jack didn’t care,
Through thicket underbrush and bosk Jack barged,
In his blundering search only his smart phone wound up discharged.

As the warm autumnal sun began to wane
Our hunter looked for any game, in vain,
In his ceaseless aim he couldn’t, wouldn’t stop;
Still as graceless as a bull in a china shop.

There wasn’t a critter to be found for miles around
As he trampled his way through his unhappy hunting ground-
Finding fording a stream is done at a huntsman’s peril-
A cruel cool baptism resulting in blown-out knee and twisted barrel.

So, cold, wet, lost in the woods as it grows dark,
Sat nav and phone flat, ah, but Jack’s quite the bright spark,
His safety match strikes, the dry leaves catch fire!
Remains to be seen, if anyone ever finds Jacks funeral pyre.

Governor Kemp opens Georgia for business, and the hell with some potential irritating minor infections.

 
Brother Brian’s Economic Revival Show.

Governor Kemp’s sweatin’ on gettin’ Georgia’s economy going,
Some may even justifiably say Brian is in a damned awful hurry,
He wants to get cash flowing even as Covid cases keep growing,
Being morally bankrupt means spreading death’s less of a worry.

‘Buy that first Big Mac, spring for a tat, slug down that latte,
Go Mall strolling, go ten-pin bowling, grab that full massage,
Catch up with old friends, plan for a weekend long party,
Invite in-laws, outlaws, gather together the entire entourage.’

Governor Kemp’s decision has been peremptorily made,
Kemp’s health experts advised him to go slowly but surely,
But his wealthy cohorts exert the upper hand, I’m afraid;
Will Quickdraw come to rue playing his hand prematurely?

 

©Obbverse

The genius doctor is now only takes White House calls. Thank God.

Second Opinion, Please.

First Doctor Don recommended Chloroquine
To save your ass from Covid nineteen,
Now he’s found another cure for our plight,
It came to him in a flash of ultra-violet light…

All you need is disinfectant in a syringe-
It’s a cure to make Doctors Fauci and Birx cringe,
Who but Snake Oil Don would one have expected
To conjure a cure from Lysol intravenously injected?

Now Doctor Don’s prognosis I do rather doubt,
A dose of covid and Lysol and and you’re wiped out,
No, I will reject the advice of Doctor Tangerine,
It’s more kill or cure than quick and clean

When he runs the greatest economy in the world, the President tells us when and where the buck stops.

Pay Dirt.

This all started just like a touch of common flu-
Nothing a president couldn’t power through,
But then people sickened, they started to cough,
Took to their sick beds, and, worse, sick days off.

Soon the busy president made it crystal clear-
News of a pandemic he did not wish to hear,
No way would he let his ‘Merica  shut up shop,
A stalled economy- why, life might as well stop!

Now for this profit president, suddenly so much is at stake,
Wow, now see him go, (though he was slow on the uptake,)
Don now tells everyone, stay a healthy six feet apart-
Pity he’s given the virus a GreaT big flying head start.

But he’s never been a man renowned for his patience,
Now the prez wants to fast-track this testing of patients,
Donald demands an overnight cure for this dark disease-
Suddenly there’s a light at the end of the tunnel only he sees.

His brilliant plan B is to wish and pray this illness away,
He’s aiming to have the churches packed in on Easter day,
Some brave Bishop please tell him that would be a blunder,
Ironically, stories of resurrection might put one six feet under.

 

©Obbverse

This Covid-19 panic-buying is simply sick, bordering on the irrational. Just wander down to your local Ralph’s and observe, if you dare.

Patience, Zero.

I’m sick of staying home, and bored,
All that sage advice would be ignored,
I went down to Ralph’s, I joined the horde;
No-one tells this shopper ‘don’t go overboard.’

There’s folk flippin’ out all over the place-
C’mon guys, give a man some personal space-
I need to grab a few more toilet rolls, just in case-
And don’t dare laugh, splutter or cough in my face.

When my sweet spouse
Saw me out of the house
She handed me a gunny sack
Said, ‘fill it or don’t come back.’

Yes, I have my ID, why do you ask?
Oh yeah, I’m hidden behind my mask,
I’ve been charged with but one lawful task,
‘More toilet rolls and sanitizer, buy the cask.’

My hands are full of toilet rolls, the full gross,
Cashier, keep your distance, don’t come too close,
I’ll swipe my card, gimme my receipt and I’ll say ‘adios,’
I should be home, in my sick bed, not risking a second dose.

 

©Obbverse.

What did you do on Valentine’s Day? Or on Valentine’s night? Flowers just might not cut it or quite do the trick on this occasion.

Be My Valentine.

I have my love and she has mine,
She tells me of her love, deep and true,
How rare ’tis for two hearts to intertwine,
Oh, my sweet love, I give my heart to you.

I brought her red roses on Valentine’s Day,
I thought to lay them on her sweet bed,
Oh, but why is she not at work but at play?
I crushed those roses till my hands ran red.

So, my love, give me back my broken heart,
You took my trust, my love, you lay and lied,
Outside the door I hear the hopeless pleading start,
When you break it down you find we’re all dead inside.

 

PS: The car radio was crassly playing ‘Dear Doctor’- on Valentine’s Day!- and the lines ‘Help me Dear Doctor, I’m damaged, there’s a pain where there once was a heart,’ sounded ghastlily inspirational.

 

©Obbverse

The urban legend states that drivers of German prestige cars are wank- er, jerks. So a Finnish Professor did a study which concluded ‘Sadly, Ja, they are!’

A Lapse Of Luxury.

For years poor German auto drivers have put up with
Being called scheisse drivers, so let’s confirm the myth.

Thank you for your findings, Professor Lonnqvist,
You’ve proved German car drivers head up the S list,
Audi  uber alles drivers spin you into the safety fence,
Overtaking, over all the yellow lines, not a bit of sense.

Give any fast approaching ass-Audi a gentle warning toot-
They’ll leave four conjoined circles puckering your boot.

The Beemer driver is Xcremental arrogance personified,
In traffic jams he sits, front and centre, and woe betide
Any poor plebeian in a Prius who signals an intent to turn,
The Right light may say ‘all go’ but he’ll let the Greenie burn.

He sits in his Dummkofwagon, lording it over the peasantry,
Above reproof, deaf to toots, the cause of all unpleasantry.

But it’s the over-egoed big boy still in thrall to the silver star-
Guaranteed to be the bat crap craziest bad drivers by far-
He’s ecstatic to drive out of the dealers a small fortune lighter
Despite the grave reservations of his insurance underwriter.

The pricey new Mercedes owner is entitled to feel he’s owed
The right to run red lights, give no ways since he owns the road.

See the imperious glint of his eye, and off his gleaming grille?
But it’s the pampering of his polished Panzer that makes me ill ,
His Benz must be protected from all dings, dents or marks,
Ergo, the safest place is to take up two handicapped parks.

As for indicators, these geniuses have no need or wand to know;
But cross ones path- one slick finger flick shows you where to go.

 

©Obbverse