With apologies to anyone who gets the Brady Bunch theme stuck in their heads…

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Here’s the story of Nancy Heath Daniels
Who with husband Marques cranked out five healthy girls.
Mary, Eva, Eliza and Becca,
And youngest Susan B.

Here’s the story of George W. Peters
Who with Cynthia had one boy and two girls.
All four grownups shared a house together
Until Marques up and died.

Three months later George got busy with the widow.
Married her and knocked her up with Lula F.
Cynthia lived for another five years.
It’s not clear if George became a bigamist.

My family tree, on Mother’s side,
It’s not the oddest thing about this bunch.
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🎶🎶🎶
I work miracles.
Inevitabl-
-y your inept planning makes you need
me work miracles.
🎶🎶🎶

“What do you mean by ‘the data center is on a truck’?”

I hate Christmas songs, which means I haven’t gone into a store without earplugs since October. Usually I counter with A Very Scary Solstice, carols by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society.

But sometimes I accidentally hear “the real thing”, and am forced to invent replacement lyrics to guard my soul.

Ruby the red-haired schoolgirl
liked to put on live cam shows.
Men all over the planet
paid to watch her strip and pose.

All of the other schoolgirls,
jealous of her pricy clothes,
bought webcams and lace undies,
to put on their own smut shows.

Then their web sites got shut down,
by the new DA.
Ruby’s stayed online because
she let him go all the way.

Now she’s working for Hustler,
making thirty vids a year.
She’ll be retired by 20,
married to a financier!

I don’t know how these things pop into my head, really I don’t.

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Where have all the good trolls gone,
and where are all the frauds?
Where’s the foul-mouthed twitter-mob
that spits upon the Odds?

Won’t somebody white-knight
their own misogyny?
Late at night I go online
and I get all that I need.

I need a Tumblr!
I’m holding out for a Tumblr full of anger and spite!
It’s gotta be lame
and it’s gotta be woke
and it’s gotta be picking a fight!

I need a Tumblr!
I’m holding out for a Tumblr SJW insight!
Self-righteous for sure,
acting out like a loon,
and it’s got to be from a lowlife.
One with no life.
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Well, flyover country’s kinda laid back,
Ain’t much an old Deplorable like me can’t hack.
Grab a couple guns, toss ’em in the back.
Thank God for the NRA.

Well, inanimate objects never did me no harm,
There’s no one in my family afraid of a firearm.
Eddie Eagle says ‘kids, it’s not a magic charm’.
Thank God for the NRA.

Well, I got me a rifle to make the Left piddle,
With the black scary parts that all do very little.
Logic’s wasted on a mob that needs committal.
Thank God for the NRA.

 

When the shootin’s done and the guns are aglow,
I pull out my cleanin’ kit and give ’em all a go,
Lock ’em in the safe where I keep the fresh ammo,
And thank God for the NRA.

I’d do Mozambique drills all day if I could,
’Cause the wife says it scares hippies from our neighborhood.
But unlike them I’ve a job, pay’s pretty good.
So thank God for the NRA.

Well, I got me a rifle to make the Left piddle,
With the black scary parts that all do very little.
Logic’s wasted on a mob that needs committal.
Thank God for the NRA, woo-hoo!

 

Well, I wouldn’t trade my guns for diamonds or jewels,
I never was one of them bunny-huggin’ fools.
Rather have my rifle and my loadin’ tools.
Thank God for the NRA.

Yeah, city folk spittin’ on Army and Marine,
A lotta sad losers thinkin’ that’s a-mighty keen.
People they can’t understand, they gotta demean.
Thank God for the NRA.

Well, I got me a rifle to make the Left piddle,
With the black scary parts that all do very little.
Logic’s wasted on a mob that needs committal.
Thank God for the NRA, yessir!

 

Well, my rifle was my daddy’s till the day he died,
And he took me by the hand, held me close to his side.
Said, “Live a good life, shoot the rifle with pride,
and thank God for the NRA”.

Well, my daddy taught me young how to hunt and how to whittle,
Taught me how to work and play a tune on the fiddle,
Taught me that with lib’rals, ya lead ’em just a little—
And thank God for the NRA.

Well, I got me a rifle to make the Left piddle,
With the black scary parts that all do very little.
Logic’s wasted on a mob that needs committal.
Woo! Thank God for the NRA, yeah!
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With apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein…

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Mech pilot teams filled with busty young lasses,
  Tsundere maids wearing under-rim glasses,
Alien catgirls all tied up with strings,
  These are a few of my anime things.

White cotton panties exposed in the sunlight,
  Magical girls fighting monsters by moonlight,
Angel and demon girls spreading their wings,
  These are a few of my anime things.

Robot girls, wrench wenches, girls-next-door, witches,
  Monster girls, pirate girls, stuck-up rich bitches,
Elves, fox girls, goddesses, co-ed hot springs,
  These are a few of my anime things.

When real life bites,
  Rejection stings,
    And I’m feeling sad,
I download a torrent of anime things,
  And then I don’t feel so bad.
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Florida Man, Florida Man,
Makin’ fake bombs in a stickered van.
What’s his cause? It’s not important.
Florida Man.

Is he for Trump, or is he a mess?
Is he a tool for the yellow press?
Was his timing coincidence?
Florida Man. Florida Man.
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Tax cheat
Michael Avenatti,
Creepy Porn Attorney

Told big
lies for his clients,
Of which we’re sure of three.

Jailed for
beating a woman,
“People,” he said, said he;

“You must always believe the accusers of men,
unless they’re accusing me.”