The cat thinks this is dumber than buying a bucket of rocks. But I'll say umm truck it and see if I can't get some head cocks. Damn, bad choice of words for the gutter mind. But fun to my little rhyming behind. So a little while back the cat read Mona Lisa gave the moon a smack. That is right, they sent her digitally there one night. Point in sending stuff to the moon? It clearly escapes this loon. What the hell, let's pretend it is swell.
Let's bombard the moon,
From evening to noon.
It is such fun,
Wasting money by the ton.
Let's send a digital house,
For a digital mouse,
Who runs from a digital cat,
Who lives with digital humans at his mat.
Then some digital trash.
Some digital cream for a digital rash.
A digital Mount Moon would be grand.
Faces looking out across the moon's land.
But with this day in age,
It would be all the digital rage,
To have the faces be,
Bieber, Vampire, Pitt and Clooney.
Arnold would try to buy his digital way in.
Sadly his digital votes would not let him digitally win.
But with a digital pyramid as well,
He would chop of his nose and find that digitally swell.
Maybe some Digimon would try,
To digitally go to the moon through the sky?
Makes just as much sense as this crap.
This idea should quickly take a nap.
One perk found by this pet.
Let's beam all the brains of those,
Who bring forth reality tv woes.
Those that want us to believe the news.
Those that pray for us to lose.
Those that create war,
Let them all get beamed to the moon's shore.
Other than that,
The meaning eludes the cat.
Whoopdi friggin doo,
I can beam things to the moon for no one to view.
I suppose the man in the moon might like such crap. Or there could be an alien there taking a nap. They may laugh at what is done on this globe, finding us too foolish to even bring out the probe. So ends my digital sass. I will now go wiggle my digital little rhyming ass.
Experience spring, have a fling.