Saturday, February 05, 2011

The Digital Pack-Rat, Vol. 24

Wow!  Looking back over the archives, I see it has been over a year since my last Pack-Rat post.  I'm certain there are dozens of verses I've let fall through the cracks in that time, but now I have at least rescued the ones from January and early February of this year.  If I ever get motivated, I might go fishing through the previous months as well.  Probably not.  Anyway, the link below each verse will bring you to the post where I found it, should you desire any context.  

When Russia launched their satellite
I watched it from Wasilla
While keepin’ watch for freedom’s sake,
A patriot guerilla.
This “Sputnik moment” I recall
From element’ry school—
I didn’t listen, though, because
It wouldn’t have been cool.
But now, they ask me questions, cos
I want to run for POTUS;
I’ll make up something dumb instead—
My base will never notice.

Kenneth the porcophile
Feels that Kentuckians
Don't care for Ham--

Thinking so backwards it's
Most of them probably
Don't give a damn.

Believers offended? Well, pardon my shrug;
They'll call me a wimp, or they'll call me a thug;
They think it's a feature--it's really a bug,
So yes, I'm a little bit smug.

The arguments come and the arguments go
There's always one hiding they promise to show
That will tear me asunder! They strut and they crow,
But does it arrive? Sadly, no.

The dusty old logic that's polished anew
The same dead-end leads that they used to pursue;
It's tough to defend such a bankrupt world view
When the truth is, it's simply untrue.

Rebecca had a heart of gold--
At least, she said, gold-clad
She promised it was mine alone
But now I'm feeling sad
I thought her quite a treasure then,
But now I'm filled with doubt:
It wasn't worth a nickel
Once I cut the sucker out.

To the best of his ability,
The Pope, in his nobility
Affected a fragility
Through Papal force of will

So he (I'm feeling catty) can
Pretend the gilded Vatican
Is destitute and ratty, and
Have others foot the bill.

It's disgusting and immoral
But it isn't sex--it's oral,
Which, by presidential precedent, is perfectly ok
Though it's true you spilt your semen
You can blame it on the demon
And we'll tell the press it's good you're not a pedophile or gay.

An exorcist can exercise
Between her lips, but not her thighs
The sacrosanct vagina is off limits to a priest!
When the church's inquisition
Finds abuse of your position,
Not a soul alive expects a penance greater than the least.

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