Friday, February 21, 2003
Late Friday...housekeeping and file cleanup time. The first two were way down on the 24 hour tablet.
Work Grrrr.
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Dost there be chance,
Howsoever slight,
That thou wilt turn quiet,
Like unto Night?
Grim folks work hard.
Our cube'd crowd
Surrounds your space.
Don’t talk so LOUD!
Stopped Cold
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When those with minds determined sure, to put scum in our path,
When those who shrink and scream at us, "accede to tyrants' wrath,"
When all those folks will pledge to share the deaths this posture brings,
"Raght Mait!—tha 'll go, when all our fookin' pigs spraghts wings."
Got a very nice email from Carl B. with this idea, but for a different song. Ideas always welcome, they not being ten-a-penny.
Oh! Give me a clone.
To the Raelians phone,
For two deer or two antelope, say.
Where "meld 'em" is heard;
"Use some gamete of bird
And a zygote of Vole DNA."
Born, born to be strange.
Were two deer, and two more, duplicée ?
Where "meld 'em" is heard;
"Use some gamete of bird
And a zygote of Vole DNA."
...And finally...I can't resist this little pungence, pulled from an old book. Anonymous.
"There was a young man in Havana
Had his girl on a player pianna.
At the height of their fever,
Her ass hit the lever,
Yes! He had no banana!"
posted by Stephen at 11:24 PM | Plink
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