Wednesday, July 18, 2018

Scarf It Down At Your Town!

Nothing can be done by you humans at all. Not without one thing nearby at your hall. You act like you are starving to death. Some dog waiting around with, or without, bad breath. At least you don't drool. That wouldn't be cool.

Say it loud, say it proud.
Do whatever to draw a crowd.
Once it's drawn, keep it there.
How? Easy peasy. Food to spare.

Have it set up on display.
Many more will come your way.
Grease and grime, dirt and paste.
Someone, somewhere won't let it waste.

They snack and chow.
They'll eat balls of a cow.
That many may see is bull.
True though, until they are full.

Can't get together without a snack.
Can't go out without a lobster shack.
Can't go down a corner without fast food.
Say it's not fast and you're just rude.

Can't attend an event or game.
Can't light a candle and watch the flame.
Have to have that extra addition.
Extra! Extra! This isn't Early Edition.

Driving and eating and driving and eating.
Even go out with some trick or treating.
A treat to trick and dress up like a clown.
My, food has sure taken over your town.

Can't go on a date or find a mate.
Can't go without food on a plate.
Or in a bucket or can or maybe your pocket.
Can't even go without it when attached to a rocket.

Additions, preservatives, GMO and more.
Damn any of that with each encore.
That fine print is so small anyway.
Just chow down and then go out to play.

Or play to chow down to play.
Redundant a bit, but what the hey.
That taste is ever so sweeter after.
Maybe store some spare food up in a rafter.

Say it loud, say it proud.
Fatten up the nearest crowd.
You'll have their heart and their loins
You may even gain a few coins.

Do you humans see yourselves sometimes? Or are you blind to it like mimes? Everything you do brings food in view. Some even eat on the loo. That is rather eww. And what some classify as food isn't really so. But that many just don't want to know. So those rats turds get mashed into the burger you ate. So you ate the equivalent of glue on your plate. The important thing is you had food in mass. Pffft the cat isn't even that much of a glutton little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

A Response The Same With Each Claim!

The cat has watched Pat go to a few and one question seems to always shine on through. I'm sure you heard it too. Maybe even asked it at your zoo. Are they that dumb? The why can even be answered by my little rhyming bum.

Different tasks.
Different asks.
Different tones.
Same old phones.

Pick up and dial.
Add to the pile.
The pile of time.
A waste ringing chime.

A question before.
A question forevermore.
A question in store.
Dumbos galore.

Why do you want to work here?
It comes ever so clear.
Do they expect something witty?
Doubtful when an old bitty.

Do they expect something profound?
Maybe a butt kissing hound.
Nose up their ass.
Adding to the hired mass.

Why do you want to work here?
Does it bring cheer?
An ego boost.
Come home to roost.

Why do you want to work here?
Kicks back into gear.
As if it ever left.
Question must have heft.

Why do you want to work here?
Surely does, oh dear.
Or oh fluck.
Go pass the buck.

Speaking of buck.
Maybe dough on a truck.
Maybe dollars or cash.
A wad full to flash.

Why do you think?
Look up if brought to the brink.
The answer is ever so clear.
Why do you want to work here?

Ever get that question at your sea? Of course a BS answer comes to be. But doesn't it most always come back to the money? Maybe they find asking it funny. For if you win 50 million bucks would you stay? Answer to that is usually, no way! Then it proves it is about the money in mass. Told you that was even known by my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Monday, July 16, 2018

Blog On Come Dawn!

A new dawn is here and here is a new post for you to peer. That is sure nothing new. Always one here to view. At least while the cat is going. On with today's showing. A blog for the blog. That kind of a hog?

Many come, many go.
Some put on a show.
Some put on none.
Some do it for fun.

The muse talks.
The finger walks.
Or maybe fingers.
Some second stringers.

Ideas a plenty.
Maybe twenty.
Then out they run.
They have none.

Fade away.
Can't play.
But those that stay.
Enjoy the fray.

A happy crew.
Ever so true.
A hand to help.
No need to yelp.

Interrupted here and there.
Great Post shows everywhere.
Maybe with a follow me.
On such follow back we pee.

Back to hopping.
A post is dropping.
Dropping on in.
Giving many blogs a spin.

Work it takes.
No hand shakes.
Just a comment crew.
Each ever so true.

New parts of the world.
New facts are hurled.
New things are learned.
Some have returned.

Many come, many go.
Some put on a Farcebook show.
But those that stay,
Sure are there come what may.

Enjoy the blogland do you? You must if you are at my zoo. Unless R came back with a Great Post. Then Blue may go coast to coast. Sure a fun community is had. Beats any crummy Farcebook pad. Been blogging a while at your sea? Gonna keep going a while more with a blogger spree? The cat will sure keep on passing gas. That is the same as posting from my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Sunday, July 15, 2018

In A Funk With A Drunk!

The cat heard a whiner nearby. He is sure one whiny guy. I ran under the bed. But still easy to hear what the whiner said. So this ode came to be. Only thing such umm idiots will ever get from me.

Boo hoo, boo hoo.
What I say is so true.
I'm starving and broke.
I can't afford a Coke.

Life is so hard.
No gas to mow the yard.
No money for bills.
I'm the talk of rumor mills.

Milling and tilling.
My life isn't thrilling.
It is so so so bad.
I'm so so so sad.

Wait here for me.
I've got a place to be.
I'll be back in a jiffy.
I have to go get spiffy.

These are my last ones.
The washer no longer runs.
The last clean clothes.
Oh, life gives me so many woes.

I'm off for a drive.
I don't know if I'll survive.
But I need to go.
I've got things to do, you know.

That hits the spot.
Makes the day less hot.
Eases my worried mind.
I only get the good kind.

300 bucks a week.
My liquor sure doesn't play hide and seek.
It gets me through the day.
Life is so hard my way.

Only 300 unless I run out.
Then maybe another 100 comes about.
I need my cigarettes too.
That's only a few 100 or two.

I have no idea how to survive.
Those bills are eating me alive.
Ah. That hit the spot.
No. I don't drink a lot.

Pffffffffffffft from the cat. He never whined to me again after that. Guess he didn't like what I had to say. I'm sure you can guess that it wasn't a very nice retort from our bay. Know any such whiny drunks like that? Or maybe just whiny where they are at. Got no time for them at my sea. On them the cat wouldn't even pee. I guess toward them I am a bit crass. But that keeps such fools from whining more than once to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Saturday, July 14, 2018

Slow And Steady With A Foot Ready!

In a rush today? Guess you won't be going anywhere fast now that you are at my bay. That is how rushing works, right? You all do it with rush hour at many a site.

Heading for home.
Not out to roam.
Heading and heading.
Dreaming of bedding.

Tired and sore.
No need to explore.
Wanting to rest.
A nap's the best.

Heading and...stopped.
Any rushing flopped.
Stuck and stuck.
Muttering thinks like fluck.

Gas fumes galore.
Cars door to door.
Bumper to bumper.
That car wants to hump her.

Ever so close.
PDA out of the house.
The mechanical kind.
Screw loose on its mind.

Rev and go.
Seconds to blow.
Stopped once more.
Won't get an encore.

Change the lane.
No pain, no gain.
Try for another score.
Hear that engine roar.

Stop and go.
Still at so so.
Sure no quickie.
But the heat makes you sticky.

Get the green light.
This time it's all right.
Took it to far away spaces.
It's off to the races.

Red rears its head.
Back to dreaming of bed.
To linger hours in heat.
Rush hour's giving treat.

Hmmm, that went kinda off kilter. Maybe the car needs a new filter? Beats the heck out of me. You humans named it rush hour from sea to sea. Not much rushing around. Don't you love when traffic is found? Bumper to bumper and door to door. My, those vehicles sure want more and more. Of course insurance companies may give them sass. I'll stick to generating traffic and not be stuck in it for my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Friday, July 13, 2018

A Brand New One With An Awakening Run!

The cat has to give Pat a non-rhyming go today. I just sighed at my bay. Although I think I may need to clean myself too. This one delves into wacko territory at our zoo. Blame the WEP for this. The story took hold there and brought about this not so bliss.

I dwell in the recesses of every rat mind. My existence known to all but corrupted by the blind trust in a cesspool. There I linger waiting to be released. There I shall linger and awaken. My tool will become salvation. The universe will cheer my unending release. What is to come will chlorinate the cesspool of rats. My mission from the universe shall see to that. I shall see with a sense that can only be attained by releasing. An awakening has begun. The universe’s desires will come to fruition. I will rise. I will release. I will awaken.

Doesn't give much away with what it has to say? The cat will give some spoilers this day.

#1. You may need a shower after reading a bit. Psycho is it.
#2. Not a single character is named in the whole thing. Interest piqued at your blog wing?
#3. Not a single word of dialogue is spoken in the whole book. Or maybe it is all dialogue, have a look.
#4. Pat may scare some after this one. Who knew he could give such a psycho mind a run?

There you go. Some spoilers given a go at our blog show. Wasn't enough for you? I guess you'll have to give it a view. Although your skin may surely crawl as the psycho and the universe has a ball. Has piqued now come to pass? Time I go clean my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Thursday, July 12, 2018

No Need For A Mate With This Date!

No more clubbing over the head. That is good, many would wind up dead. Not from the club though. May need a club with the scary dating show. Thankfully being a snip snip cat brings forth none of that.

A search is born.
Oh so forlorn.
In search of love.
Or maybe a lustful shove.

Searching, searching, searching.
Like dial up researching.
On the go forever.
Delving further into the endeavor.

The type to talk.
The type to walk.
The type to eat.
Every single tasty treat.

The type to whine.
The type who think they're oh so divine.
The type to spank.
Some enjoy that plank.

The type to act dumb.
The type with brains in their bum.
The type with no money sense.
All three are rather dense.

The type too picky.
The type too icky.
As in bathing/smell.
Outhouse they must dwell.

The type to want.
The type to haunt.
Turning into a stalker.
The type with a walker.

The type to sailor swear.
The type with rainbow hair.
The type in a funk.
Always out to get drunk.

The type soooo cool.
The type lower than dog drool.
The type to game the system.
The type to grab your nether regions and twist em.

The type to boss.
The type to watch moss.
The type to give a headache.
Nightmare done, now wide awake.

Could have went on for a while. Any types I missed you find vile? Or at least avoid? There are the paranoid. Plenty of those. Types in many rows. A type for each I suppose. Even the types that bring forth new lows. I guess we're the type to make fun and then maybe run. Run under the bed with Cass. A much safer place for my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Extinction Is Here So Run In Fear!

Since before my blog there has been a log. Since way way way before that. Hey, I said before at my blog mat. Don't get technical on me. I'm doing it to myself? Gee. Humans are obsessed and that is all left to be confessed.

Start to stop.
A familiar drop.
Drop and never.
Repeat the endeavor.

A name from a hat.
Named after a rat.
Aliens from space.
Give name to the race.

A dream to some.
No matter how dumb.
The will to survive.
Like they'll make it out alive.

A weather thing.
A nuclear fling.
Rockets or ice.
Neither that nice.

Or maybe heat.
That sun finds it neat.
Double the fun.
A Waterworld re-run.

Look to the sky.
An oh me, oh my.
Jot down ideas on the fly.
Look, some ancient guy.

Lined up with ease.
Vague as the breeze.
Can make it fit.
Never full of it.

Whelmed isn't a thing.
Disaster it must bring.
Obsessed with the end.
A never ending trend.

Fake and proven.
Better get movin.
Need a new task.
But who to ask?

Idiot upon high.
Some alien loving guy.
Some weather person nut.
New story, same rut.

Notice how humans are obsessed with the end? It sure is a history trend. All generations think it will come to be. Then of course nothing happens to make any flee. Those Mayans must have loved it as fools fell for it bit by bit. Maybe that is why they get made. Have any theories you wish to trade? Let them all come to pass. I'll continue to be a never ending little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

A Timely Post At Our Coast!

There comes a time when we have to post. It comes every day at our coast. A time for me and a time for you. The same time can have many a view. Time I started this before time runs amiss.

The ticking clock.
Around you rock.
Three, four and five,
Make it out alive.

The rest, who knows.
That's how it goes.
Goes and goes and goes.
Away time flows.

Flows and speeds.
Looking after needs.
Looking after life.
Flies by with the wife.

Fly like a plane?
Starts the head pain.
Each takes up time.
One steep climb.

Or steep fall.
Time has us all.
A human creation.
Time for a revelation.

Time may not exist.
Time elsewhere can be missed.
Missed and lost.
Or maybe just tossed.

Measurements no more.
Chaos in store.
Or maybe not.
All hot to trot.

Making time here.
Making time near.
Can you make it?
Maybe bit by bit.

So denies having none.
A familiar run.
Have you do.
Time has you.

You have time.
Time enough to suck a lime.
Maybe pound sand.
Time is at hand.

Does time hurt the head? Think about it in bed? Time to head there? Time to spare? Time to write a comment for me? Time to read and see? Time I stopped this? Time brings no bliss? What if time was never made? Would the years fade? Would age not be a thing? Time I wrapped this up before we're back in spring. Time I took a nap on a cushy mass. I'll see you next time with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Monday, July 9, 2018

Brand Spankin' New Just For You!

Did you buy something new? I know, a buying post after yesterday at my zoo. Am I turning into Al? Nah, hold on there pal. A whole different ode stream will take form. It is something that has become the norm.

It's brand new.
Not new and improved.
Which just isn't true,
But so new it will be moved.

Moved to your door.
Moved to your attic.
Moved to your floor.
All will be ecstatic.

New is the way.
Upgrade and win.
Forget that old display.
Ancient ones are a sin.

It's worth your while.
Every little bit of money.
New will add to your pile.
The world will be sunny.

Built brand new.
That you knew.
That may be true,
But shh a new new is due.

Can double new.
Anger will rise.
So remain true,
Throw in a disguise.

Built brand new.
But not built to last.
Then no new times two,
That's a thing of the past.

Built to break.
Built to wear.
Built to hippy shake.
Built to need a pair.

Now new is new.
A new times two.
Until three comes due.
Then a new, new, new.

Built to break.
Means built to sell.
No new double take.
Built to last can go to hell.

Do you notice how things are built to break? No matter what it is people make. Seems all need to break so in more cash they can rake. If it didn't break apart then many may not take iPhone 10.10.1568 to heart. We can't have that. Then we'd make scat. They have to break like glass. Just don't go breaking my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Sunday, July 8, 2018

Come And Shop Until You Drop!

It's a human craze. A never ending maze. Can't get out. Some may shout. Need that crap. A closet can't have a gap. Can't have space. Crap you must embrace. Where am I going? You'll catch on with this ode showing.

When words fail.
Stick to the sale.
That catches the eye.
Give colorful font a try.

Some brings cheer.
Some brings fear.
Don't say it in black.
It doesn't have the knack.

A racist sale?
That's a fail.
Don't say it in blue.
Could go boo hoo.

Say it in yellow.
It's far more mellow.
Will remind of sun.
They'll see it and think fun.

Sale! Sale! Sale!
Come hit the trail.
Our yellow font glows.
Show up in rows.

Buy! Buy! Buy!
Off the shelves it will fly.
And if you run out.
We take credit, no doubt.

Keep jobs at play.
Buy what's on display.
It keeps society rolling
Plus weight loss through strolling.

Perks of the sale.
Crap that won't fail.
At least until it does.
Then buy new, just because.

An endless stream.
Makes you beam.
Makes us rich.
So go dig a ditch.

We want every cent.
Everything must be spent.
We even have sales on urns.
Never too early before death churns.

Do you fall for the shopping forever trap? Do you need more and more crap? We take what we need and get out. Don't care if sales are about. Do you fall for the color trapping too? Or maybe some catchy tune played in front of you? So many little tricks they employ. Doesn't shopping bring you joy? We'd rather go pass some gas. It sounds way more fun to our little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Saturday, July 7, 2018

A Storm To Weather Here Together!

The cat will have you talking today. You may just squawk with delight at what I say. It's all you seem to do anyway. Even when I'm right beside you and it's on display. I guess you have to talk. Now away from you I'll walk.

It comes and goes.
Highs and lows.
Lows and highs.
Mostly from skies.

Has come and gone.
Watered the lawn.
Turned it to muck.
Violated your truck.

Maybe even your hair.
How could it dare?
Like it's a thing,
Out having a fling.

It may fling.
Big stones of bling.
May hurt the head.
Could sound dirty when said.

Dirt and muck.
What the fluck.
Sun and sand.
Ever so grand.

Snow and ice.
Pay the price.
Ice and snow.
In the ditch you go.

Winds that blast.
Things not past.
All brand new.
Never scene in view.

Selective recall.
But roll a snow ball.
Then it's new.
New to view.

Spread and share.
Viewer beware.
Haven't a thought.
Don't go out and get caught.

It's brand new.
A new sorta view.
Even if it happened a billion times before,
And will happen a billion times more.

Woweee, no wonder you humans love remakes at your sea. You talk like the weather is new every flucking day. Never a been there, seen that display. The sun is brand new. Look at that view. Oh look, there's snow. Seen it, unless from Timbuktu you go. Do you go on and on and on about weather you've seen 1000 times before? We sure hope not, as that would bore. Oh look, rain is watering the grass. I have never, not really, seen that before with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Friday, July 6, 2018

Your Lucky Day At Play!

It is your lucky day with the ode at play. Did you notice that yet? I bet you did thanks to this pet. Right in front of your eyes. My, you humans are ever so wise.

It's here and there.
It's every friggin where.
It's every flucking thing.
Used by jester and king.

Old and young alike.
Those on a mid-life hike.
Maybe even the dead.
Unknown until in that bed.

But dead to living.
It keeps on giving.
From cats to mutts.
Even birds in ruts.

Numbers to shoes.
Can mean a win or lose.
Or a lose or win.
Not saying it right is a sin.

Forwards and back.
It never does lack.
With you in a rut.
With you on your butt.

Tags along each day.
Come what may.
Maybe it's July.
It's always spry.

The go to word.
Mostly for the absurd.
Or often the lazy.
Maybe even the crazy.

Crazy in laze.
Some type of maze.
Can't turn that way.
Not on the 13th day.

Or the 13th year.
Did that you hear?
It's the 13th chime.
That's the 13th mime.

Numbers will pile.
Whiners all the while.
Walk this way, not that.
Oh look, a black cat.

Pfffffffffffffffffft the cat can only say. Nonsense once more came to play. Do you believe in luck? Or do you pass the buck? Enjoy the ode of today? Many of those come to play. I'm not sure you can sing it though. Can try if you want to put on a show. With any luck you'll sound like the singing bass. Pffft and you'll get more luck when you rub my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Thursday, July 5, 2018

The Not So Perfect Ten At Our Den!

The cat was forced to upgrade. So not a fair trade. Damn you rainbow screen of death. Yep, our laptop took its last breath. Now away we must go with a Windows 10 show.

Open and glare.
A familiar affair.
At least one.
Power button is spun.

Revs up for you.
Goes through some loopdi loo.
Then pops the screen.
Look at that glean.

Nope, not gleam.
That too may beam.
Loads of crap you'll see.
Oh, look at me, look at me.

Free trials for this.
Giving brings bliss.
Like giving your wallet.
Hey, free's what we call it.

Now for the fun.
Search what can be spun.
It's so easy to do.
No need to boo hoo.

Old windows stuff.
Bah, that is just fluff.
Have to buy new.
Sorry, it is true.

We give the best.
Forget the rest.
It won't sync up.
Forget that hiccup.

Forgetting is the name.
The name of the game.
Time to use all over.
New tricks for an old rover.

Pin and like.
An easy hike.
Like and pin.
Take limited free trials for a spin.

Don't get in a funk.
Just adware and junk.
Bought the easy thing first.
Now let you wallet burst.

Don't you love all the added junk? Windows 10 can go kerplunk. But by the time this runs I'll be used to it. Hey, at least Windows 9 was a hit. Oops, forgot they were bad at math. I hope I don't suffer Microsoft's wrath. Do you enjoy Windows 10? Beats 8 at least at our den. But that isn't saying much with that pass. I hate when rainbow screens of death happen to my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Wednesday, July 4, 2018

We'll Partake In The Remake!

The cat will go remake today. Pffft and I'll turn into a toad the next time I play. But at least I can make fun. Time for an ode to the remake run. Don't you love them all? There are many you can add to your wall.

Ideas run dry.
But ideas still fly.
The idea of another.
An idea outing the other.

What made dough?
What will all know?
What has a brand?
Raise your hand.

We have this and that.
That was where it's at.
This was grand too.
Now two ideas are due.

Due out in a year.
There's nothing to fear.
The script's been done.
It's ready to run.

Slap in a name.
Add to the fame.
Pull it out of a crypt.
Blow the dust off the script.

The title returned.
Nothing needs to be earned.
Change the poster a bit.
This will be a hit.

Tickets for sale.
Hit the trail.
Critics don't matter.
Make the wallets fatter.

Money will be banked.
What? It tanked?
But it was a hit.
Years ago it was the it.

We retread the past.
We had a new cast.
The exact same beats.
Should shout in the streets.

We don't understand.
Years ago it was grand.
We'll have to make due.
Time for idea from idea number two.

Are you a remake lover? Are you a line shover? Do you run in at the sound of a name? Do you fall for the remake game? Reboot, redo, remake and prequels too. Oh, the movie to TV show is also in view. But at least ideas from ideas from ideas are still there. Otherwise the brain dead would get fired at their Hollyweird lair. Now I'm done with my remake sass. One will never remake, redo or reboot my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Tuesday, July 3, 2018

Take The Bait Kinda Fate!

Kinda's a word.
Is it absurd?
Were you baited?
Could have been fated.

Or maybe not.
Catch my plot?
It will be caught.
By a little or a lot.

Big or small.
Short or tall.
You'll get it all.
Maybe by fall.

Now you're on task.
Put down the flask.
I didn't even have to ask.
You yanked back the mask.

Baited by mind.
Baited by a behind.
A little rhyming one.
Isn't baited fun?

Baited to stray.
Baited to say.
Baited at play.
Have a nice day.

You can't?
A worker ant?
A baited nut?
My, you're in a rut.

Baited by a cat.
How about that?
Beats a troll.
One out for a stroll.

Or maybe not.
They can't trot.
Just stay inside.
Mooch off Mommy with pride.

An idea for you.
Baited came due.
Take the bait.
Cut the hate.

Do you get baited by trolls? Baited by unreasonable goals? Baited by the poor pitiful me? Did you get baited by we? Baited sure comes into play. Maybe that is why fishing is such a fun foray. Nope, still not fun for me. Never applies when that comes to be. Baited with ideas for a new book? Take that bait without a second look. But otherwise give baited a pass. Unless maybe you were baited by a lad or lass. Then I hope you have no gas. Leave that to my snip snip little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.

Monday, July 2, 2018

Isn't It Dandy When A Shotgun Is Handy?

Pat had to go this way and that the other day. Great Nanny wanted to go into the woods and play. Or look where relatives came from. Maybe she wanted a new chum? Beats me. But the dirt roads were rather creepy.

Found off the beaten path,
The roads of Jason's wrath.
Anything and everything a chap can think,
As further into the roads you sink.

Trespassing allowed.
Some stand proud.
Pitchforks and toothless grins.
Preening those butt chins.

The mind sure flows.
Filled with Deliverance and banjos.
Squeal like a pig?
Rather dance a jig.

Reach the end of the road.
Shotguns ready to unload.
Big signs in your face.
No trespassing is the case.

The squeaking of gates.
The animals and their mates.
Discovery channel eat your heart out.
Was that a backwoods shout?

The hillbillies are coming.
Their banjos are strumming.
Turn and go back.
Avoid such an attack.

More roads to try.
They catch the eye.
Houses with holes.
Some rotting telephone poles.

Big basements in each.
Torture chambers in reach.
The road bumps along.
Please car, hold strong.

No signal at the tone.
Clutch that useless phone.
A twist and a turn.
A stomach may churn.

Eyes widen in fear.
You may shed a tear.
Hillbillies coming from behind.
Pavement! Civilization of some kind.

Go into the scary woods lately at your sea? Pat is kinda dramatic with what came to be. Although one did have a shotgun handy. Getting that in the arse wouldn't have been dandy. Or maybe it was a stick. Hey, you can pick. We'll stay far away from hillbilly land. Dirt roads just aren't grand. Did you ever trespass on a no trespass? I'll avoid that too with my little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer. 

Sunday, July 1, 2018

An Airplane Stand Across The Land!

The cat saw at Adam's sea the other day, for you a long long time when this post comes on display, that some were considering making people stand on a plane. We just have to go down that lane.

No need to drive.
No need for a train.
You'll most likely survive.
So just hop a plane.

Crammed as one.
Germs recycled and spread.
We aren't saying it's fun.
But gets you home to bed.

The seats are crammed.
The kids are whiny.
Your back may get rammed.
Some aren't so tiny.

You may shimmy and shake.
Maybe even hurl.
But make no mistake,
You should give it a whirl.

Point A to Point B.
Much quicker for thee.
And for an added fee
You can fly more comfortably.

But that's not all.
For an added fee,
You won't risk a fall.
We'll provide a seat for thee.

Otherwise enjoy our new space.
Room for that many more.
The mile high club you can embrace.
You're standing anyway as we soar.

The subway of the sky.
That will get cheers.
Loved by every girl and guy.
We'll squash any fears.

The plane will be loaded.
You'll have no room to fall.
Maybe even mats that are color coded.
Size matters to one and all.

And if we should crash.
You'll never know all the while.
There will be no dash.
You'll break you neck in a dog pile.

Don't you want to stand on a plane now? Doesn't that just make you want to fly somehow? Crushed by passengers through turbulence and such. My, that is a sales pitch by more than a touch. I think I'd rather drive. Better chance to survive. Now my ode to the standing in an airplane has come to pass. I think I'll go fly around the room with the power of my own little rhyming ass.

Fill your rummer, get drunk all summer.