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What rhymes with ''Orange''? Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 2013 Archive

Following are collected verses of doggerel that were written during the year 2013. Some verses may be accompanied by notes that were originally included when e-mailed to a few family members and friends, usually within a few minutes of the verses having been completed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/01/13


Should old acquaintance be forgot? Well, hell, why not?
— Especially if there has been an irreparable schism,
Accompanied by hateful and hurtful parting epithets
And a harsh exchange of vile and vulgar euphemisms.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/03/13


The artist Salvador Dali said, "The only difference
Between me and a madman is that I am not mad."
But a madman might make that same claim, too,
Especially if his grasp on reality is a fleeting fad.

On second thought, b'golly, I've my doubts 'bout Dali.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/04/13


[Verse 1]
Yes, the music is catchy, yet the lyrics are pious.
So stand, take my hand, and let's take the chance
That God will be appeased and won't want to fry us
When He sees we are dancin' the St. Vitus Dance.

[Verse 2]
The Frug, Monkey, Robot, or Jerk likely won't work.
When we Watusi, Baby Jesus weeps and looks askance.
We should cease and desist doing the Chicken or Twist,
Because God in His Glory loves the St. Vitus Dance.

[Verse 3]
Sure, some folks will make fun whenever they see ya
Movin' and groovin' as if you've got ants in your pants.
They may diagnose our disorder as Sydenham's chorea.
But God in His Wisdom knows it's the St. Vitus Dance.

[Bridge]
The Moonwalk reminds God of a pop star child molester.
Limbo's a dance, but it's also an area at the edge of Hell.
Mashed Potato's too starchy. Hokey Pokey's too hokey.
And the blasphemy of The Boogaloo, no tongue can tell.
Moves angels make when dancing on the head of a pin
Might be steps we could learn, if only they'd invite us.
Forget Loco-Motion, Macarena, Chachacha, Hully Gully,
They are nothing to fantastic, spastic moves of St. Vitus.

[Verse 4]
So now, Darlin', let's dance till we both die of exhaustion,
While seeking the salvation only our Holy Father grants.
Trust that our blistered, bloody feet will heal up in Heaven.
God's a sucker for seekers who do the St. Vitus Dance.

God's a sucker for seekers who do the St. Vitus Dance.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/06/13


The new genetically-modified banana trees are kinda cool,
Even if their fruit looks weird, smells bad, and tastes funky.
They continue to produce through harshest Midwest winters,
And can kick the shit out of any would-be thieving monkey.


NOTE: Don't panic! The genetically-modified trees described above, to my knowledge, do not currently exist — either in the laboratory or in the wild. I just made that stuff up. Still, the concept does not seem all that far beyond the realm of near-future possibility. So, let this be a warning to all: Trees capable of defending themselves from predation by smaller primates may easily grow to turn upon larger primates — such as GM banana growers and, then, the rest of the human populace in general. Beware!


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/07/13 - #1


When I awoke this morning, I was particularly surprised to find
The phrase "a handful of anvils" was foremost in my foggy mind.
While I can appreciate the phrase for its soft sort of assonance,
A single anvil is more than a handful, so it doesn't make sense.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/07/13 - #2


Unlike us primates, canines evolved from a fine line of species
Who are not known for acting out by flinging their own feces.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/07/13 - #3


If and when I write a screenlay for a space opera science fiction,
With non-terresterial creatures to name and provide depiction,
I'll invent some very cheesy names for various races of aliens,
Like: Blaxxons, Barftards, Spewter-5s, and Doggon Episcopalians.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/09/13


Beware that weird chick named Neti,
Yeah, the Neti whose surname is Pot.
She'll force salty water up your nostrils
To both irrigate and flush out your snot.

It happens when you least suspect it.
You're alone, then suddenly: Whoosh!
Neti sweeps in with her big goofy grin
And gives an unsolicited nasal douche.

Even if your sinuses know no pollution,
Neti's there in your face, wrong or right,
With a point-nine-percent saline solution,
At about ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit.

Some girls claim to be spice and sugar.
But strange Neti Pot is not one of those.
No, Neti's always been more of a booger,
One you'd rather not have in your nose.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/11/13


I snickered when I read what the headline said:
"New Wonder Drug Restores Hearing In Deaf Mice!"
Whoever has to tell the hearing-impaired rodents
Will have to talk loudly and say everything twice.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/19/13


He's a dandy whose style most likely still would be crimped,
If he'd stayed back East in the staid and steady Carolinas.
But here in Tombstone, circa 1880, he's a Wild West pimp,
With his fortune derived from a dozen or so rental vaginas.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/20/13


Yes, I confess I am ignorant of most goings-on in The Orient.
For example, all I don't know about China might amaze ya.
I'm aware families there are limited to a one-child allotment.
But I can't imagine why foes suggest I consider youth in Asia.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/26/13


With their Al-Qaeda-linked Twitter account now permanently suspended,
Do the Somali Islamist militants find job satisfaction less than complete
— Especially after another terrorized hostage's life has just been ended,
Giving the self-righteous killers new news they would otherwise tweet?

Nothing beats convenience and expediency of social media when sharing
With a wired world: links, photos, videos wherein execution is the hook.
With diatribes, ransom demands, and victims' last pleas needing airing,
Those now-Twitterless Islamo-fascists ought to thank Allah for Facebook.


Source of inspiration for today's doggerel: Twitter Suspends Account Of Somali Islamist Militants Linked To Al-Qaeda

NOTE: While the conclusion of my second verse might seem to imply that I've read reports about Twitter-deprived Islamo-fascist terrorists migrating to new Facebook accounts, I have not. Still, I imagine it's highly improbable that such thugs would limit themselves to only one social media outlet to begin with.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/27/13


I had a recurring dream this A.M., tossing 'n' turning in bed.
I kept surfing the Internet, over and over in my sleepy head.
If I'd been in a deeper REM-state or if only I'd been drowsier,
Perhaps I'd have had normal dreams, all less web-browsier.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/28/13


Contrary to first impression, he wasn't a complete
old grouch whose heart was stone-hard.
Did he secretly wish everyone a one-way ticket
for interstellar spaceflight? Yes, dammit!
But he genuinely felt he was being diplomatic
whenever he yelled, "Get outta my yard!"
Because he was suppressing the overwhelming urge
to yell, "Get the hell off my planet!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/30/13


Straight-haired gal is sour and surly
Because her hair isn't naturally curly.
Curly-headed miss thought she'd fuss
'Cause she's not naturally lissotrichous.


NOTE: I encountered the word "lissotrichous" today via a link on Twitter. It is an adjective that means "having straight hair." While the third line of today's doggerel is slightly more awkward than I like my more awkward lines to be, it is so composed to remind me of the correct pronunciation of the word "lissotrichous," since the phrase "miss thought she'd fuss" is pretty much a syllable-for-syllable rhyme-set match for the aforementioned newly-encountered word.

PS: If you choose to categorize the above as worthless trivia (whether it actually is, or not), be aware that you are engaging in floccinaucinihilipilification — another interesting word on the same webpage as lissotrichous. And it just now occurs to me that floccinaucinihilipilification is probably punishable by death when directed against and prosecuted by some fundamentalist religions. Imagine that.

Source of inspiration for today’s doggerel: 15 Colorful Entries From Mrs. Byrne's Dictionary of Unusual, Obscure, and Preposterous Words

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/02/13


Hey, I don't give a fuck about how much wood
a woodchuck might theoretically chuck.
Here, we call those same critters "groundhogs,"
you would-be "woodchuck" dictators.
What's in a name? Well, on Groundhog Day,
your so-called woodchuck would suck
At being the nominal go-to rodent for a trusted
end-of-Winter weather prognosticator.


Felicitous holiday well-wishes to all of you true believers on this Groundhog Day! (And you kinky furries fetishists out there, have safe plush orgies! 'Kay?)


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/08/13


SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder:
It's such a cyclic psyche bummer.
It's so much "less jo" in the winter
Than the "mo' jo" of the summer.


NOTE: This morning, a Facebook "friend" (Oh, I'm not using quotation marks to indicate sarcasm or to suggest a completely superficial relationship here. No snarkiness is intended. Rather, I merely mean to highlight the specific term by which Facebook casts basic online interpersonal connections facilitated via its website.) Okay, starting again: This morning, a Facebook "friend" posted some observations that included this statement: "It just seems like this winter is bringing bad mojo in with it" (And, oh yeah, here I'm using quotation marks to indicate an actual quote. So there!) Anyway, reading that one sentence led to my writing today's doggerel. That's it. Don't think I'm suggesting that I've been especially depressed lately, because I'm not and I haven't been. I just wanted to mention SAD and mess with the word "mojo" in a rhyme. Hotcha!


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/09/13


Abrahamic monotheists tend to be adamant.
"There is only one true God," they will insist.
And yet, according to the First Commandment,
Even Yahweh himself seems to be polytheist.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/10/13


Would Everglades-infesting Burmese Pythons have to forsake who they are,
If rounded up in refugee internment camps and then sent home to Myanmar?
Would they deny their Burmese name and accept a loyalty oath requirement,
While secretly hoping to return to Florida when it is time for their retirement?

NOTE: After I posted today's doggerel on Facebook, an FB friend responded by asking, "Inspired by Chinese Year of the Snake?" Following is my reply:

No, Jen. (And by confessing that, I realize that I cannot later lay claim to having intended the verse to have even wider geo-political relevance. Still, I suppose subtle allusion to the Burma/Myanmar schism may be sufficient.) Although I was vaguely aware that the onset of Chinese New Year was eminent, I did not realize that Chinese New Year's Day is today.

Actually, the inspiration for today's doggerel came from having a bad dream that, remembered only slightly upon awakening, reminded me of an insane scenario I had written a few years ago in which someone's pet boa constrictor had escaped a decade previously, has been hiding in the walls all this time, and finally comes out at night to kill me in my sleep and devour my not-necessarily-yummy-but-still-edible corpse.

So, at first this morning, I thought I might be writing doggerel about my Earthly remains ending up as a big bony cough-ball and a pile of snake poop.

But then I thought about the Burmese Pythons as the invasive species they've become in the Everglades and elsewhere in southern Florida. I wondered whether, if deported, they would renounce their age-old Burmese heritage to placate the military government officials of so-called "Myanmar" and, thus, be allowed back into their native homeland.

Otherwise, I thought, they would be "Snakes Without A Country." (Perhaps I should write the screenplay and see if Samuel L. Jackson might be interested in the lead role. Can't you hear him now? "They're motherfuckin' snakes without a motherfuckin' country!" Also, Al Stewart should be commissioned to write and perform the opening and/or closing theme[s]. Heck yeah, a project like that should get green-lighted!)


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/13/13


Oh, good grief! There's horsemeat in the beef!
Eurozone labels didn't indicate there was any.
Consumers who thought beef's what they bought,
Got little or no moo, but mostly or only whinny!


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/16/13


I can't dance, so don't ask me, m'Darlin'. And, no, I'm not being temperamental.
Face the fact, my lack of any physical grace is just another of my many faults.
On the upside, I'm not one to two-time you during a three/four-time instrumental.
Your friend can't cut in to steal me away when the band plays The Tennessee Waltz.

With no dance, there's no chance your friend will cut in for The Tennessee Waltz.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/17/13


Tho' so long missing both arms, she still has her charms,
That classic stone statue: Aphrodite of Milos, a.k.a. Venus.
There's a breed of sea slug called Chromodoris reticulata.
It has no arms to lose, but the male has a disposable penis.


Today's Source for Inspiration: Sea Slug Has Disposable Penis


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/20/13


I studied both Latin and Spanish when I was young,
However, nothing much stuck like my mother tongue.
And just like me, demographic averages being equal,
A majority of our native-born speakers are monolingual.
So, American linguists, Americans would thank ya,
If you could coin an English term for "lingua franca."


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/21/13


My Fellow Citizen, where's your anger, indignation, and frustration?
Congressional salaries are all exempt from impending sequestration!


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/22/13


He had something to "aks" me, I thought he'd said.
So, at first, I just figured he was speaking Ebonics.
But when he swung a tree-chopping tool at my head,
It alarmed me more than divergent views on phonics.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/23/13


I witnessed it all, so it should make sense.
And yet, it seems something of a mystery.
My life once was a series of current events.
But in assessing it now, it's mostly history.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/25/13


I believe advertisers owe me compensatory payment.
Why, I'll sue the damn Sandman, if that's what it takes.
My dreams suffer from too much product placement,
And their continuity is broken by commercial breaks.

NOTE: It was my intention to still be in bed sleeping at this very moment. But weird, disjointed dreams and the approaching apparition of today's doggerel compelled me to arise prematurely, to write and publish the preceding. Oy! Going back to bed now. Nighty-night.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/02/13


In Mediterranean climes and in ancient times well before the common era,
Greek god Zeus seduced mortal Alcmene, while cheating on his wife Hera.
Perhaps Alcmene sighed some literal OMGs during their sexual ecstasies.
In labor pains later, she cried profane OMGs while birthing baby Hercules.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/03/13


I dreamed that I was a space rocket jockey in the year Twenty-Five-Twenty, CE.
Nineteen-Fifties airline steward and stewardess uniforms were worn by my crew.
As interstellar caterers, we served haute cuisine to epicureans across the galaxy.
Menus included finest wines and everything from nebular crab to primordial goo.

NOTE: Actually, I have the vague recollection that my dreamt space missions possibly had more to do with interstellar ecology than with catering. But between the dream and the doggerel writing, the oh-so-hazy narrative crystallized into what you see above. Go figure. My space-themed reverie was another one of those dreams that seemed like it kept repeating over and over for tens, scores, or even hundreds of iterations throughout the restless night. I suppose that my being a bit obsessive-compulsive explains why such repetition is not an unfamiliar feature of my typical dreamscapes. So, the more puzzling part of all this to me has always been: Why can't I remember such recurring dreams much more clearly than I do upon awaking? I would expect the repeated exposure to burn all the elements clearly into a record easily accessible subsequently by my conscious mind when I awake, but no. After experiencing so many loopy looping dreams over my lifetime, I guess I should just resign myself to the disparity between number of dream impressions and the facility for dream image retention and/or retrieval. Oy. Maybe I should have a T-shirt printed-up that says on its front: "I dreamed the same goddamn dream over and over a b'zillion times last night, but I still can't remember it, and all I ended up with is some weird-ass doggerel and this crappy T-shirt." And, of course, some weird-ass doggerel could be printed on the back of the shirt. So there!


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/04/13


That southern coarsely-ground cornmeal porridge
Needs a more appetizing name, one with some glitz,
To increase demand, production, sales, storage,
And so forth for that food currently called "grits."

"Hominy grits?" your doting waitress asks you.
"How many grits?" you say back to her, "None,
At least not until the committee that's tasked to
Renaming grits gets that task satisfactorily done."


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/09/13 - #1


Regardless of the faded relationships, time passed,
intervening distances, or even death,
Sometimes some long-lost souls will make unexpected
cameo appearances in my dreams.
When I awake, I realize they were only superficially them
and more subconsciously me.
But it's nice to be reminded and know they still reside
among my memories and memes.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/09/13 - #2


Although, technically, it is still winter for another dozen days,
I just heard a summer sound that made me utter, "What the fuck!?"
Yeah, it's almost fifty degrees outside and damn near spring.
But I hate loud 'n' cheesy music of the goddam ice cream truck!

The vendor's too freakin' cheap to license modern-day music.
So, his 8-bit synth-chip module blares only public domain fare.
Thus, he sullies fond memories of childhood folksong favorites.
When he abuses "Jimmy Crack Corn," well, I, for one, do care!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/10/13


Excess for some can lead to abuse of and addiction to
sex, drugs, and/or alcohol.
Music is my major vice. Sometimes when it makes me high,
I want to mainline it all.
I get self-defeating cravings to shoot it all at once,
not one-at-a-time and serially.
Still, I'd be unlikely to D.O.D.* since siren song magic fades
when within a cacophony.

* Here, the initials D.O.D. are meant to refer to the phrase "Drug Overdose Death" and not the "Department of Defense" or any other phrase from among the scores also commonly represented by the same initials.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/11/13


Scientific research reveals some plants lace their nectar with drugs b'cuz
A caffein-addicted pollinating bee is likely to return to cop another buzz.

Source of Inspiration for Today's Doggerel: Plants Lace Their Nectar With Drugs To Make Bees Return

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/15/13


Yeah, I am monolingual.
But let me tell you what:
I prefer that description
To being called "polyglot."

Utter the word "polyglot."
I’ve no doubt your utter’ll
Sound, not soft ‘n’ smooth,
But hard, harsh ‘n’ guttural.

Am I advocating ignorance?
That’s not my intended path.
While I cringe at "polyglot,"
I am cool with "polymath."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/25/13 - #1


Genetically predisposed to depression.
Here's the upshot of what that means:
Although they've got no denim in 'em,
I'm made from natural-born blue genes.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/25/13 - #2


You'd best beware when a Naugahyde chair
Is the last seat left to put your tired tush in.
It can wreck social poise with a rude noise
That sounds like a novelty whoopee cushion.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/27/13


Patty Smith Hill was born on this day in Eighteen Sixty-Eight.
She and her sister, Mildred, were El Ed teachers in Louisville.
A song they co-wrote evolved into "Happy Birthday To You"
— A century-old, itty-bitty folk ditty that folks are singing still.

On this anniversary of your birth, Patty, for whatever it's worth,
I would honor your memory by singing your own song to you.
But if I sing, will it spring a legal trap laid by BMI or ASCAP?
Would my unlicensed performance cause your estate to sue?

[Now singing, regardless:]

Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday, Patty Hill.
Bill me for royalties due.

(In memory of Patty Smith Hill; b. March 27, 1868, d. May 25, 1946)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/30/13 - #1


Other than for humans and a few other primate species,
Oral sex in the rest of the animal kingdom isn't widespread.
But bats known as "Fruit Bats" are mostly heterosexual
And, yes, they often enjoy getting and giving each other head.

Source of today's inspiration: Fruit Bats Enjoy Cunnilingus, Too

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/30/13 - #2


Damned ice cream truck was trolling the street again,
Playing an overloud, electronic "Turkey in the Straw."
A rocket-propelled grenade flew out from my window.
Everyone heard the explosion, but not one witness saw.

What is to be the consequence of my act of violence?
Well, to quote The Bard himself, "The rest is silence."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/01/13


Any Disney-song wishes you wish upon The Evening Star
Are apt to be as impotent as an erectile-dysfunctional penis.
Point 1: Wishes without supportive actions seldom go far.
Point 2: Your so-called wish-star is only a planet, Venus.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/13 - #1


If this verse did not rhyme, I suppose I could title it this way:
"Brother Dave's [Fill-In-The-Blank] Blank Verse For The Day."
But it rhymes. So, for any blogger critiquing me, that blogger'll
Have to be content to curse my verse as more damn doggerel.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/13 - #2


The Latin phrase "Qui cum canibus concumbunt cum pulicibus surgent,"
Translated, means "If you lie down with dogs, you get up with fleas."
But I say, "Qui cum poema deterius concumbunt cum calathus surgent,"
By which I mean "If you lie down with doggerel, you get up with cheese."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/07/13


Immediately after God made Adam and Eve, He commanded,
"Be fruitful and multiply."
So, it's a good thing He made them full-grown adults,
and not a baby boy and infant girl.
While some readers may get off on this Biblical instruction
for human sexual reproduction,
I note the imperative sentence structure:
subject "You" understood, second-person plural.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/11/13


Six years ago today, Kurt passed away.
Goodbye, Blue Monday, no more woes.
Yes, Kurt Vonnegut is up in Heaven now.
That's his last grand joke…. So it goes.

QUOTE: "If I should ever die, God forbid, I hope you will say, 'Kurt is up in heaven now.' That's my favorite joke." — excerpt from "Man Without A Country" by Kurt Vonnegut (b. November 11, 1922; d. April 11, 2007)

NOTE: Today's doggerel is an updated and edited version of "Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/11/09 - #2." So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/15/13 - #1


No siree, I will not watch "Dancing with the Stars" on TV.
Pairing pro hoofers with B-list celebs, what does it matter?
Of classical art forms, dance is the least interesting to me,
Unless, like Salome, a contestant struts her stuff enough
To win the grand prize of a sainted head on a silver platter.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/15/13 - #2


Well-wishing an actor to break a leg
Would seem to be mean, but it's not,
Except, of course, when said to a horse
'Cause leg-breaks can get horses shot.

Mister Ed is most likely decades dead.
Tho' I know no actual details, I still fig'r
His died hide was not tanned and stuffed
The way Roy Rogers treated ol' Trigger.

So, in thespian leg-breaking well-wishing,
What's apropos depends on species of actor.
Also, I'm thinkin', after Booth shot Lincoln,
"Break a leg" ironically became a factor.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/18/13


No matter what a snail-mail letter may say,
It can in no way be construed to be a nice 'un
If, along with words written in ink on paper,
There also is included a deadly dose of ricin.

NOTE: Today's doggerel occurred to me while I was in the shower this morning. An hour or so later when I began to write it down, I realized that I wasn't exactly sure how to form the rhyme-friendly contraction of the phrase "nice one."

At first, I based my spelling on "young'un," which is an accepted contraction of the phrase "young one." (See: http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/young'un)

However, further research indicated that an intervening space between the two monosyllabic units would be the preferred construction. And since a cited example phrase more closely correlated with my own desired contracted phrase and its usage, I elected to add the space. Example from online Macmillan Dictionary: "That goal was a good 'un (=a good one)!" (See: http://www.macmillandictionary.com/dictionary/american/un)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/20/13


The final ingredient in my Kroger-brand chili powder is silicon dioxide.
I was dyslexic when I first read that and, thus, nearly scared to bits.
Instead of an anti-caking agent, what did I see: An invisible "silent e"
That turned silicon into silicone that could give me cancer or big tits!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/22/13


Your mother swore that a stork delivered you.
Now you've doubts about that really being so.
Well, what my mom told me is absolutely true:
I was delivered by gray space aliens in a UFO.

Curious about the craft by which I was sent?
It was the flying saucer from 1950s television
That clipped the tip off Washington Monument,
Thereby giving it an unintended circumcision.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/27/13


A three-word, two-word, or even one-word proper noun
Can indicate some someone of real worldwide renown.
The rest of us may be indicated in generalized referral
By use of third-person pronouns — singular or plural.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/30/13


Today is the sixty-third anniversary of that mid-spring day
When my eventual Mom 'n' Dad got their marital knot tied.
Yes, my folks were married exactly five-years-to-the-day
After Hitler and his newly-wed bride both died by suicide.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/04/13 - #1


Europe's horsemeat-sold-as-beef scandal*
Almost seems like much ado about nuttin,
In comparison to China's current scandal
Over adulterated rat flesh sold as mutton.

Source of inspiration for today's doggerel: Rat Meat Sold As ‘Lamb’ In China

* The European horsemeat scandal was previously cited in Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/13/13.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/04/13 - #2


I hear "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone,"
And I use my mental, metaphorical pliers
To firmly grasp and extract one of the two
Contradicting double-negative modifiers.

A third negative would establish darkness,
But be even more convoluted and overlong.
The logic would work, but be hard to decipher
In "Ain't not no sunshine when she's gone."

Perhaps "Ain't no" was used to show sarcasm.
Maybe irony was intended to be brought to light.
Or, maybe his baby is only away in the daytime
And, like a vampire, she just turns up at night.

It seems to be something songwriters often do.
A good grammar campaign won't get any traction.
Either I accept the occasional double negatives
Or, as Mick says, "I can't get no satisfaction."

D'oh!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/04/13 - #3


Although he damn-near died, he still lives to tell the tale
About the time he was swallowed by a two-ton bull hippo.
Paul Templer narrowly escaped, like Jonah from the whale.
But he'd been chomped like marbles in a game by Hasbro.

Was Templer among those who say, "It can't happen to us"?
And still, he ended up inside the mouth of a hippopotamus.
So now, people, pray you'll never end up like this poor guy,
Swallowed by one of those fiercely territorial hippopotami.

Source of inspiration for today's third bit of doggerel: Experience: I Was Swallowed By A Hippo

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/06/13


The Apocalypse approaches!
Prepare for major freakage!
Carry spare clean underwear
Just in case of anal leakage!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/08/13


On a planet several light-years from here, dontcha know,
Producers use the phenomenon of gravitational lensing
To create a top-rated, primetime, reality TV, horror show
From Earth's random acts of war and ethnic cleansing.

It's not the blood and gore or exotic Earth-alien "actors"
That make the program's global viewership ratings spike.
Rather, it's a desire to discern enigmatic dividing factors
Because to them, frankly, all human Earthlings look alike.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/10/13


I’ve pondered this mystery throughout most of my history:
The starship USS Enterprise visited various exotic venues
Where the space aliens spoke American English perfectly.
So, why did Ensign Chekov still mispronounce Vs as Ws?


BTW: Those final three words up there are meant to be pronounced "veez az duhb-uhl-yooz," not misread as "Versus as Wuss" or some other weird interpretation thereof. I mean, you got that, right? "Vs" is plural for the letter "V." "Ws" is plural for the letter "W" and rhymes with "venues." And, oh sure, fake Russian accents can be humorous. But Chekov saying "enemy wessel" was never nearly as funny as Boris and/or Natasha saying "Moose and Squirrel."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/11/13


An angel told her, "Girl, God Himself made you pregnant!"
The Mary Formerly Known As Virgin boggled and gaped.
Without her knowledge or consent, the current equivalent
Is that Ms. Virgin Mary had been roofied and date-raped.


NOTE: As is our general policy concerning victims of sexual abuse and predation, Mary's last name and any other specific identifying attributes are not cited here so as to protect her anonymity.

PS: Although it's a day early, the management and staff of Brother Dave's Doggerel Forge 'N' Foundry, Inc. (aka "BD's Doggerel Sweatshop") wish each and every one of you muthas out there (You know who you are, right?) a very HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! Whether you're a Blessed Holy Virgin Mother, or not. Hotcha!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/12/13


Fleets of caviar fishermen on the Caspian Sea
Overfished that vast inland sea of its sturgeon.
Avarice urged 'em, "Roe, roe, roe your boats,"
And fueled the surge in sturgeon near-purgin'.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/13/13


I had oatmeal and raisins for breakfast,
But not gooey, chewy, healthy and warm.
My take on the meal was more reckless,
In grocery store deli-baked cookie form.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/14/13


Bagpipes are played at solemn memorial services
For our fallen soldiers, firefighters, and policemen.
Those pipes wheeze and wail so the living won't fail
To not only honor the dead, but to also envy them.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/15/13


I bought the book "Heiroglyphs For Dummies."
I want to learn to write/draw just one cartouche,
To indicate to marauding murderous mummies
Appropriate victims by the pictogram for "douche."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/20/13


The mandatory anti-corruption collars for all public servants
Seemed like an electronically-efficient ideal idea at the time.
Separating one's head from one's body at a hint of corruption
Was a loud and messy solution, realized via elegant design.

Mind-reading circuits in the collars could trigger explosions,
Causing connections of flesh and bone instant interruption.
But when hundreds of innocent technocrats lost their heads,
The lowest responsive bidder was charged with corruption.

NOTE: I should be in the middle of a sleep cycle right now. The air conditioner isn't working and the little sleep I could manage was troubled by dreams of Orwellian dystopia. Oy. I recall that I dreamed I had been sent to a re-education camp. My books were being confiscated. And the entrance interview bureaucrat, whose nose I was trying to punch and bloody, let his face sink into the protective depths of a tabletop surface. Kinda weird, actually. Kinda weird, too, that the doggerel which started growing in my muddled mind then wanted justice for technocrats who were unfairly and permanently terminated by the greed of corrupt Big Business. Whoa! I really need to get some sleep now. Oy, again!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/25/13


While trying to remain anonymous and discreet after landing on Crete,
Brave Ulysses shopped a street market for a new nautical toilet seat.
After he scored but before being back on board his boat, guess what:
He was busted for paraphernalia! But not caught holding the pot.

A 5-drachma fine, but no hard time: He was not caught with the pot.

NOTE #1: W-T-freakin'-F!? I know, right?

NOTE #2: I've been re-reading Daniel Boorstin's "The Creators: A History of Heroes of the Imagination." I'm only an eighth of the way in, at about 100 pages of the 800-plus. So, I've had my mind in ancient lands, with Greece being the most recent. Anyway, at the end of a nice nap this afternoon, during that lazy, hazy phase between being sound asleep and wide awake, I found myself momentarily among Cretans (not cretins, well, at least not necessarily cretins) in a public marketplace three or so millennia ago. It was just a flash, there then home again. And although I did not see Ulysses, per se, during my spontaneous displacement in time and space, I ended up with today's doggerel, no matter how historically inaccurate it may be. Imagine that!

Ya know, my Doctor Who marathon last night and on into the wee hours this morning might have had some vague sort of influence on today's doggerel, too.

OH, OH, now I remember: After my DW-watching marathon, I read a few more pages in "The Creators" before finally crashing 'round three-thirty this morning. One of the last things I read had to do with comparisons and contrasts between ancient Greek and Roman public architecture. As Boorstin was conveying how form follows function with regard to the design of the Roman public baths and general socializing, he mentioned how even the toilets were arranged so family, friends, and/or neighbors could sit around and carry on with their face-to-face conversations while simultaneously defecating. Whoa! Surely that, too, had some bearing on today's doggerel. I mean, Jeez!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/30/13


The USS Tang successfully sank thirty-three ships.
But that sub sank no more after number thirty-four,
When one of its own torpedoes circled back 'round
And, just off Taiwan, sank the Tang to the ocean floor.

NOTE: A tweet by Mental Floss got me started on this. The following entry on Wikipedia helped flesh it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Tang_(SS-306)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/01/13


[Verse 1]
O, you'd better keep your nose clean.
Current criminal activities demand it.
Otherwise, your nasal cavity content
Could be swag for the Booger Bandit!

[Verse 2]
What madness made him so obsessive
Over icky mucus instead of, say, sugar?
What turned his obsession aggressive
And made him El Bandito del Booger?

[Verse 3]
Tho' you might be his unwitting victim,
You may forever feel guilty and skanky
After you've been accosted at gunpoint
And forced to blow into his filthy hanky.

[Bridge]
He robs dried or still-viscous secretions of each victim's nasal mucosa.
If such a mob existed, he'd be Don of The Nose-Pickers' Cosa Nostra.
("La Cosa Nostril"!? "The Mucus Mafia"!?)
There's a litany of sordid details to tell. But hear? No one could stand it,
Unless, of course, he's the felonious fetishist called the Booger Bandit.

[Verse 4]
Yes, any excess mucus in your schnoz
Could be the only possession you've got
That compels the Bandit to break laws:
To him it's precious, but to you it's not.

[Coda]
To him it's green gold, but to you it's snot.

NOTE: Rodney Anonymous is one of the people I "follow" on Twitter. He is a songwriter, lead singer, and keyboard-player for the Dead Milkmen. Attached to one of his tweets today was a photograph of a concrete-block wall on which some graffiti had been spray-painted. In all capital letters, the message said, "BOOGER BANDIT!" (To Philadelphia District Attorney Williams: It is my sincere belief that Mr. Anonymous only photographed pre-existing graffiti he witnessed while passing by, and that he was not in any way directly responsible for that particular act of vandalism.) My "Reply" tweet in response to the photo was a slight variation on the first quatrain of the above doggerel. Because I am not restricted to just 140 alpha-numeric characters here and I have had time to do so, I've edited and reformatted the original verse, plus I've added three more verses, a bridge, and a coda. 'Cause, hey, what good is an as-yet-unrevoked Poetic License if you don't put it to use on occasion? Well?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/08/13 - #1


You're a reasonably intelligent person.
Have you considered the irony properly
Inherent when even dumb ol' doggerel
Can be called "intellectual property"?


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/08/13 - #2


Ricin allegedly was mailed to The Prez by an actor.
If that allegation is proven to be an undeniable truth,
I'll wonder if her chosen profession might be a factor
'Cause I'm thinkin' of Lincoln and John Wilkes Booth.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/09/13 - #1


Lots of movie monsters chased me.
I swear there must've been a thousan'.
Each had been created and animated
By the late, great Ray Harryhausen.

For a super-cut video clip of Ray Harryhausen's work, see: The Ray Harryhausen Creature List. (Please Note: In this significantly-condensed video overview of Harryhausen's oeuvre, any scenes that show cavemen interacting with dinosaurs should NOT be misconstrued by Creationists to be scientific proof of a 6,000-year-old universe. The excerpts are from entertainment films, not documentaries.)


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/09/13 - #2


Mister Lister sailed on the Mayflower as an indentured servant.
It was a way a poor man could manage his travel expenditures.
For those of you who floated through History class unobservant,
No, this form of labor contract had nothing to do with dentures.

For more information, see: "A Lister Rode The Mayflower" — Edward Lister: Mayflower Passenger and Signer of the Mayflower Compact

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/10/13


In a world with no more messy human copulation,
There'd be population attenuation in a generation.
Although a remedy might be artificial insemination,
It's a less efficient, less fun method of procreation.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/17/13


I had this recurring, restless, wild, and very vivid dream
In which dragon mythos was revealed to be verified truth.
Eventually, all of the persistent, looping imagery seemed
To manifest itself in my head as one jagged dragon tooth.

It materialized, severed-'n'-replaced some of my wetware:
My corpus callosum and all the lesser connective tissue.
Then, with two newly-independent cerebral hemispheres,
I'd half a mind to grant and half to deny my divisive issue.

In ancient Greece, Draco codified harsh, unforgiving order.
For ancient Romans, "draco" was the word for "dragon."
But now, for me, do all the potentially-viable options border
On draconian, to regain sleep and later keep from draggin'?

Postscript: What does today's doggerel mean? After only four hours of sleep last night and two-and-a-half hours the night before, I'm not sure that I can comment objectively. But I'll tell you this: Being obsessive-compulsive may suck even more in the dream-state than it does in the waking one. Of course, again and still, my objectivity may be currently impaired, so evaluate that last statement accordingly.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/22/13


When I read "Super Moon,"
Well, ya wanna know whut?
My first thought, of course,
Was of someone's fat butt.

NOTE: I wrote and posted today's doggerel as a "comment" in response to a graphic shared by a friend on Facebook earlier today. The caption on the graphic said: "Super Moon: June 23, 2013. This year's largest and closest 'Super Moon' will occur on June 23, 2013. The super full moon is not only the closest and largest moon of the year, it also presents the moon's closest encounter with Earth in a long time." Hmm, typing that out just now, I've become aware of the redundancies that I didn't notice during my first casual read-through of the caption. Hmm, typing that out just now, I've become aware of the redundancies Oh, I said that already, didn't I? The whut(sic)/butt rhyme pair in today's doggerel amuses me. Butt er, I mean, BUT, as for me (and probably for anyone else who writes doggerel), it is obvious that one can be amused too easily sometimes. Oy.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/24/13


While the priest prayed and performed his ancient exorcism rituals,
The demons discovered a legal loophole in that petition to withdraw.
So the possessed had no choice when the devils said, via her voice,
"Well, hell no, we won’t go! Possession is nine-tenths of the law."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/29/13


Who knows, but perhaps some masochistic someone
will say to me, someday,
"The memory of my childhood ice cream headaches
often fills me with nostalgia."
If that ever happens (and as I try to ease away),
I hope I remember to politely say,
"The medical term for an ice cream headache is
sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia."

NOTE: Today’s doggerel was inspired by a June 28th post by Mental Floss on Twitter, with the fourth line of verse here being almost a verbatim quote.

And note, too, today's verse is meant to be only four lines in length. But because they are long lines that your browser would likely break up anyway, I have pre-emptively inserted more aesthetically-pleasing (if only marginally so) line breaks to better enhance your doggerel-reading experience.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/30/13


I heard a woman on the radio who spoke out against same-sex marriage.
While she is entitled to her opinion, her reasoning was ripe to disparage.
She said, "Marriage is one man and one woman, as in the word of God."
But if she meant the Bible, that is where her argument is fatally flawed.
I mean, has she read the scriptures? And if so, did she skip sacred lines
About the holy men with their multiple wives and bevvies of concubines?

When a one-man-one-woman marriage dissolves due to the wife’s death,
Because scripture does not condemn Lot, is it okay to have drunken incest?
One brother, then the other — Er and Onan — married one woman, to ill fate.
God killed each in turn when he withdrew to ejaculate and not impregnate.
Father Abraham, Moses, Solomon, et cetera, et al: all Biblical polygamists.
If "one man / one woman" is alleged scriptural, scriptures have been missed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/01/13


[Verse 1]
Girl, you've got oh-so much emotional baggage.
And, yes, I've got more than a fair share of mine.
If we ever got together, we'd need a freight train
To move all of our old feelings on down the line.

[Verse 2]
There'd be boxcars of past relationship damage,
Along with flatbed cars full of old exposed pain.
The tanker cars would slosh with toxic memories.
Container cars hold all the doubt they can contain.

[Verse 3]
The coal cars would carry mounds of dark sorrows.
Open gondolas might hold long-lost missing parts.
And the refrigerator cars, Dear, we too-well know
That’s where for so long we’ve both kept our hearts.

[Bridge]
Do you wonder how many diesel locomotives
It must take to pull a combined load like ours?
For people in cars at railroad crossing crossbars,
Will wait-time for our freight's passing be hours?
And hours? Yours and mine and ours.

[Verse 4]
Let’s load up that train with all our emotional baggage,
Then pack one carry-on each with just what we’ll use.
We can catch the next flight in the opposite direction,
And shake off ‘Our Freight Train Of Old Feelings’ Blues.

[Coda]
With only one small carry-on each, we'll board a plane and takeoff.
Together, we'll shake off "Our Freight Train Of Old Feelings' Blues.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/03/13


STEVE'S FIRST ATTEMPT AT WRITING LOVE POETRY
(A Work In Progress)

Daphne m'Dear, flowery words of love, I fear,
May fail me, so please allow me to be blunt.
Dah-dah-dah-duh-dah, dah-dah-dah-duh-dah.
Dah-something, duh-something your cunt.

xoxo, Steve


Postscript: Hey, it's me again, your old buddy Brother Dave. If you're like me, you're probably very curious as to how Steve will complete the third and fourth lines where now he has just nonsense syllabic placeholders. If the first two lines are any indication, though, I'm sure the finished poem will be uh, er, well, poetic! Bravo, Steve, bravo! (And some people think romance is dead. Tsk, tsk.)

Post-Postscript: Today as I write this PPS is Monday, July 3, 2017. This morning, Facebook reminded me of the preceding doggerel as being one of my "Memories" posted four years ago to the day. Re-reading the doggerel made me imagine that you, Dear Reader, might be curious as to what became of the lovers mentioned above, so here's what I know: Steve and Daphne broke up — just a moment after Steve gave his finally-finished poem to her, I was told. Good news is, Daphne found, fell in love with, and married a fine man soon thereafter, and together they celebrated the first birthday of their daughter just last month. And Steve, well, solely on the merits of "Steve's First Attempt At Writing Love Poetry," he was hired and currently holds the prestigious and high-paying position of White House Director of Sensitivity Training in the Trump administration. So, hey, I guess I can say, "They lived happily ever after!" Never ever together again, but happily so nonetheless. (And, oh yeah, in case you were wondering, I have no idea what Steve wrote to complete those third and fourth lines that were mostly just filler when we saw them. Daphne tore up the copy Steve had given her immediately after she read it. But I suspect Steve's copy will surface again after indictments are levied against several in the White House staff.)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/07/13


BROTHER DAVE’S 60-SECOND RADIO SPOT FOR NEW UPCOMING ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN TO PROMOTE FAMOUS BRAND-NAME MEDICATION USED IN THE TREATMENT OF MALE ERECTILE DYSFUNCTION

[The Jingle]
When you were a young man, as you may remember,
You would awake, all refreshed, relaxed, and limber —
Except for your morning wood, that was hard as timber.
But, holy cow, you're an old fart now. And what's the diff?
When you awake, it seems that every damn body part —
Except for your once-trusty, lusty naughty part — is stiff.

[The Voice-Over]
Regain that youthful wedding-night erection
From your first-marriage honeymoon in Niagara,
With the hospital-tested, doctor-recommended,
Mother-approved little blue pill called V*****®.

# # #


NOTE: The product brand name is omitted here so as not to spoil the surprise when the ad campaign roll-out drops sometime in the next 60 days. And, too, any rumor suggesting that Madonna was contracted to both sing the jingle and speak the concluding voice-over narration well, that would be something I can neither confirm nor deny at this juncture.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/13/13


Last night my dreams all took place in a tabbed dream-browser interface.
I could point-'n'-click to take my pick among dream options as I slumbered.
When any dream ended or lost its appeal, new ones were ready to replace,
As indicated in the browser tabs by quantities parenthetically numbered.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/14/13


If you become some dotty old fool
Due to an age-related dementia,
Your friends may say you still rule
—Even if you rule only in absentia.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/18/13


"Mary Jo Kopechne plunged off the Chappaquiddick Bridge," just so you know,
Is a phrase that one can sing to the tune of the hook line in "Ode to Billie Joe."


• Mary Jo Kopechne was born on July 26, 1940. She died on July 18, 1969 — forty-four years ago today, just a week before her 29th birthday.

• US Senator Edward Moore "Ted" Kennedy was born on February 22, 1932. He died on August 25, 2009 — forty years and five weeks after surviving the same incident during which Ms. Kopechne drowned.

• Bobbie Gentry (christened Roberta Lee Streeter) was born on July 27, 1944. Her Southern Gothic ballad "Ode to Billie Joe" was #1 on the Billboard Hot 100 music charts for four weeks in 1967 and earned her two Grammy awards in 1968. Ms. Gentry still lives. Bless her heart.

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Today's doggerel is a reprint of verse written one year ago.

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/20/12


Today is three-years-to-the-day when Marguerite Lister passed away.
At least, that is what most of the funeral attendees would likely say.
Me? Being her firstborn child, I have seen her both up-close and often.
And I was never completely convinced it was really Mom in that coffin.

Mom is too kind-hearted to be a co-conspirator or a willing participant
In such a cruel hoax, as to feign her death and leave behind a replicant.
So, it's obvious to me that she was abducted by aliens from outer space,
Who had unintentionally left a nonviable pod-person's body in her place.

Though I've no interstellar intel nor the means to mount a rescue plan,
My hope is Mom can distract her guards by causing feces to hit the fan.
So she can escape her laboratory cage on, say, planet Simulacrum Five,
Then hot-wire a starship, pilot it home, and reveal that she is still alive.


# # # #


So now today, July 20, 2013, it's actually four years since Mom allegedly passed away. And if I've done the math correctly, Mom supposedly died on the fortieth anniversary of The First Manned Moon Landing. Imagine that! Space travel, Neil Armstrong's moonwalk, and Mom's alleged demise are all July 20th coincidental. Everybody knows that after he placed his foot down onto the lunar surface, Armstrong said, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." However, known only to a very few NASA insiders till now, Armstrong continued on to say, "Houston, if I get kidnapped by freakin' space aliens while I'm up here, I plan to steal a starship and make my way back home. And if ever any of you find yourself in a similar predicament, I suggest you do the same. Roger that?" So, who knows? Perhaps Mom intuitively "rogered that" and could show up someday soon, with tales to tell and some way-cool new souvenirs to display along with all her porcelain angel figurines that are still on the shelves where she left them.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/22/13


I built a space-time machine in my basement, so I could go where I’d never been,
Back a few hundred thousand years ago in Europe, to visit my stone-age era kin.
Though I had vowed I would not interfere with their natural progress, I was unable
To refrain from encouraging the genesis of table manners by inventing the table.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/27/13


The Twenty-Seventh of July has long been known as
"National Sleepy Head Day" in Finland.
With water, they douse the last poor sap in the house
still sleeping. This tradition, it seems,
Is based on a myth of The Seven Sleepers, who slept
for centuries after closing their peepers.
But considering current cost of reveries lost,
Finns should let dreamers Fin[n]ish their dreams.

To learn more about National Sleepy Head Day and/or The Seven Sleepers (aka Saints of Ephesus), see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Sleepy_Head_Day and/or http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saints_of_Ephesus.

PS: Although today's doggerel might look like eight lines, it is intended to be only four long lines in length — with an ABCB rhyme scheme, and with some internal rhymes included so as to soften wait-time anxiety that may occur while anticipating closure provided by the second B ("dreams") of the BB rhyme-pair ("seems/dreams"). Oy. However, since the column-width parameters here won't accommodate the full lines, line-breaks have been added preemptively to lessen the potential negative effect on your reading experience. You're welcome! And, oh yeah, Happy Unikeonpäivä to all you sleepy heads! I sure hope you didn't awake wet this morning — whether from being doused by a friend or family member in the Finnish tradition, or from having urinated in your sleep! (If you awoke wet due to nocturnal emission, well,…)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/31/13


Perhaps part of the attraction, Bub,
Is you've provided a clean bathtub.
No cat would dare to lick my tubby
Because it is too gross and grubby.

NOTE: Today's doggerel (Catterel?) was written in response to seeing a 46-second YouTube video titled "Does anyone else's cat just love a wet tub?" The video features The Kiddo's cat, Flossie Renée, licking 'round in a recently-used-and-still-wet bathtub: http://youtu.be/7DLRHjF0qPc

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/03/13


Imagine ee cummings alive and trying to post a poem on Facebook.
Do you suppose he would find the exercise to be frustrating as hell?
Beyond the imagery of words, he worked with how printed words look.
FB won't allow ee formatting options of typography or basic HTML.

To remain true to his vision and still facilitate Facebook web-traffic,
Perhaps the poet should post each poem as a computer graphic.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/03/13 - #2


I just now noticed something that causes me great consternation and dismay:
My liquid hand soap has an expiration date that is merely two months away!
If some soap yet remains on that dread date, will it no longer clean my mitts?
Or, might the remainder suddenly go insane and throw violent conniption fits?
My imagination runs wild regarding catastrophes such an event could create.
So now, how can I hope to cope with soap that has a looming expiration date?
A lingering death by old age or merciful euthanasia, the former or the latter?
No, like Pontius Pilate did, for Christ’s sake, I’ll wash my hands of the matter.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/04/13 - #1


Each er, uh, erm, um, hmm, and similar non-lexical "filler" vocalization
Is an example of speech disfluency, common in informal conversation.
Speech-to-text computer programs that attempt to detect and dismiss
The alleged disfluent "er" from my surname would just leave me to list.

Like a ship without ballast and balance, minus my surname "er" I’d list
And likely roll and sink to the depths of the drink, with no way to resist.
If, due to bad code, my "List" was excised from a speech-to-text mess
And the disfluent "er" was all that remained of my name, I’d be listless.

I'd be um, speech disfluent, uh, emotionally truant, and er, listless.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/04/13 - #2


"O-M-freakin’-G! Centipede on the floor!" I heard her say.
I was still in bed and, as yet, had not completely awoken.
I foggily formed questions so as to understand her dismay:
"Who is this Centi? And why isn’t he or she housebroken?"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/05/13


You asked rhetorically, "Does a bear shit in the woods?"
I think, theoretically, "Neither of us has seen the spoor.
But if a bear lives there and if it never leaves the woods,
Then that is where one would expect to find the goods."
Aloud, I say to your cliché, "You asked that crap before.
Your angle on ursine biology focuses only on scatology.
If a bear eats in the woods, it likely excretes in the woods.
So, don’t give me your bullshit about bear shit anymore!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/10/13 - #1


[Verse 1]
I’ve got me a swamp-born woman who is larger than life.
She kills, guts, and skins alligators with a big Bowie knife.
Swamp skeeters don’t eat her ‘cause her skin’s so thick.
She sucks my my copperhead bites, so I don’t get sick.

[Verse 2]
She made her gator boots and fishbone comb in her hair.
If ever it’s cold, she wears a fur coat she coaxed from a bear.
When it’s so sweltering hot not another living soul can take it,
She breezes thru the bayou, carefree ‘n’ completely naked.

[Bridge 1]
A third-generation seventh daughter of a seventh daughter:
On a blue moon at the witching hour, she walks on water.
She’s a hoodoo woman who casts and reads holy bones.
She brings magic to our bed, gives me the midnight moans.

[Verse 3]
She makes a mean jambalaya, and she rarely goes wrong
With any other Cajun cuisine in that ol' Hank Williams song.
She brews me tea from plants that anyone else would weed.
After I drink up all my cup, she gives my tea leaves a read.

[Verse 4]
Wild berries and fiddleback spider goo, she distills to liquor.
It’s not a very smooth drink, but none can soothe me quicker.
I’m not normally a dancin’ man. But a couple shots and soon,
To a beat of bullfrog croaks, we dance by the light of the moon.

[Bridge 2]
Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter’s seventh daughter:
Demons try to trap ‘n’ cage her, but none has ever caught her.
She’s a witchy woman, divining the future from rune stones.
She’s Ms. Mojo in our boudoir, gives me the midnight moans.

[Verse 5]
She talks with animal spirits and the ghosts of kin long gone,
To conjure the secrets of this world and of the world beyond.
She provides potions to the infirm, the poor, the lovelorn, and
Casts course-correction spells if potions don’t do as planned.

[Instrumental]

[Bridge 3]
She’s a seventh daughter’s seventh daughter’s seventh daughter,
Practicing ancient rituals her mama and grandma taught her.
She’s a black magic woman who seeks to know the unknown.
She’s Ms. Mojo in our boudoir, gives me the midnight moans.

[Coda]
She brings magic to our bed, gives me the midnight moans.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/10/13 - #2


Karl Baum, a young German tourist, was shot dead at the border.
It was a misunderstanding, as simple and fatal as they may get.
The victim triggered chaos in a border guard’s rigid sense of order.
RIP, Karl Baum, whose name was mistaken for a terrorist threat.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/16/13


A forum speaker spoke of how poor memory
Recall sometimes can be caused by PTSD.
While I don't want to seem overly dramatic,
If my own memory failure is post-traumatic,
Rather than a single defining event, eventually
It was just life in general that traumatized me.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/17/13


Pacu is a sharp-toothed South American fish.
It’ll bite a passerby skinny-dipping guy's balls.
Pacu is a vegetarian fish whose favorite dish
Is real nuts, not what we euphemistically call.

With one’s testicles bitten, men tend to beseech
A merciful god and/or curse a vengeful divinity.
It’s hard not to take one’s castration personally,
Even if it’s merely a matter of mistaken identity.


Source of inspiration: Exotic Fish Snacking On Men's Testicles

Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, okay, today’s doggerel is based on a kinda/sorta urban legend — as further distorted by less-than-great Danes, no less. So, if you’re one of those tedious people who like to let facts get in the way of the gospel truth, you may want to read this article: Warning Over Testicle-Biting Fish In Denmark? It's All Wet.

And now you know!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/19/13


If and when you do choose to burn incense,
Be mindful that the smoke is not so intense
That it chokes or otherwise causes offense.
Ironically, incense² smoke ought not incense¹.


• in•cense¹ (in-sens') tr.v., To cause to be extremely angry; infuriate.

• in•cense² (in'-sens) n., An aromatic substance, such as wood or a gum, that is burned to produce a pleasant odor.

Source: http://www.thefreedictionary.com/incense

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/23/13


Yes, acknowledge the elephant in the room, but you need not be indelicate.
For forty years now, my time machine project, alas, has been my elephant.
Despite the derision, I won’t regret my decision to pursue such an elegant
Dream when, at last, it works and any time lost will instantly be irrelevant.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/25/13


Hollywood filmmakers seem to think that vampires are sexy. But why?
Well, you can call me "Mister Lister, also known as ‘The Obvious Guy’"
Because when all is said and done, demons who like most to get it on
Are not those with bloodlust, but those with just lust: succubi and incubi.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/31/13 - #1


On that oncoming day of my inevitable demise,
During that moment when I draw my last breath,
I wonder, will my whole life pass before my eyes?
Or, will I see Microsoft’s "Blue Screen of Death"?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/31/13 - #2


If the punctuation is needed, I put exclamation point BEFORE question mark.
While the reverse order is popular, it can cause me to deride and harangue.
I'm guided by my eye for visual aesthetics, not by a pathetic shot in the dark.
Minus the rare typographical symbol, how’s this not the better interrobang!?

Well!?

Interrobang (aka Interabang or Bang)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/01/13


Yes, the S-sound is an alveolar hissing sibilant.
You know S is a fricative consonant, I’m guessing.
Used for shushing, S can be called a "shibilant."
When recording S, the signal may need de-essing.

The P-sound is a plosive, oral occlusive, or stop.
Phases of P articulation are catch, hold, and burst.
When recording P, a screen may reduce the pop.
Sibilant? Plosive? Either makes a sound guy curse.

Please, no "She sells sea shells by the sea shore,"
Nor "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers."
Abusive use of sibilants and plosives is abhorred,
And those who write such scripts are social lepers.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/02/13 - #1


Friend, if your life has been a bummer,
Here, near the very end of the summer,
You can, of course, curl into a fetal ball.
But don't start chewing at your cuticles.
Instead, buy the best in pharmaceuticals.
Try miracle mood-enhancer: Dammit-All!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/02/13 - #2


Hey, Kids, if your chewing gum ever falls from
Your mouth and [Splash!] ends up in the toilet,
And you were not quite finished with that gum,
Well,… you probably should at least first boil it.

Sure, you could wipe the wad off on your pants.
But, of course, chewed chewing gum can be sticky.
Boiling gets germs unstuck before they run amok.
Boil or soak it in something like mom's Gin Rickey.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/06/13 - #1


If and when someone offers to "settle your hash,"
Is he or she being bellicose or verging on unctuous?
The difference between helpful and talking trash
May depend on if your hash is being rambunctious.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/06/13 - #2


Bro. Don Morris is, so to speak, singularly unique.
So, it’s not like you can have a Don of your own.
Well, that is, you couldn’t till now. But, Holy Cow,
For a limited time only, you can buy a Don Clone!

But wait, there’s more!

If you order soon, before next business day, noon,
You’ll receive not one, but two Dons! The deluxe pair!
One rocks your socks and one croons country tunes.
Operators are standing by! Why? No chairs anywhere.


NOTE: These lines of doggerel were written as a "comment" in response to another person's comment appended to a Facebook post by a musician friend of mine who was citing some of his upcoming performance dates. Because several shows were listed for the weekend, a commenter had asked, "Do you have a clone?" And, hey, that was my muse.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/14/13


I'll have rib-eye steak. Make sure it's well-done, please.
I’ll have a beef with the chef if it’s bloody, rare, tartare.
I don’t want to get that brain-wasting Mad Cow Disease
And become the idiotic comedy relief, like Lucas’ Jar Jar.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/15/13


REGARDING THE POEM "TO A SKYLARK"
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, CIRCA 1820CE

In my mind, I suddenly hear it.
A phrase from Shelley is blurt.
It is "Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
[WTF?] Bird thou never wert."

Why? Hey, I really do not know.
But perhaps it’s due to my OCD
That lines I learned so long ago
Tend to echo back unexpectedly.

Now, two centuries post-Shelley,
I’ve no proof but I’ve suspected
That, two centuries after the KJV,
His thee 'n' thou were affected.

Romantic-Era Poets, sometime
I wanna give ‘em another chance.
But they resorted to "sight rhyme"
And were too fixated on romance.

His "Skylark" poem is so passé.
Poet Shelley never got the news:
The Buick Skylark line went away,
Retooled to make Chevy Malibus.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/16/13


My friend Micah suffers from a condition called Pica.
It's a weird eating disorder, if not a mental disease.
Those so afflicted eat otherwise-inedible stuff. Micah
Exclusively swallows buttons from typewriter keys.

It's a race for a cure before all typewriters disappear.
Computer keyboard keys are not cuisine he will eat.
And as if his choices weren't already few and dear,
He eschews pica typewriters and only dines on elite.

He's diagnosed with Pica, but he only dines on elite.

Some people seek signs of the mystical persuasion.
"Mind the sign where you find it. Let nothing spoil it."
Micah gets mixed messages and algebraic equations
Floating among the muck before he flushes the toilet.


NOTE: For those of you less than a half-century old, having little or no practical experience with the machines, and for those who are older but, like me, have only fuzzy recollections now regarding the difference between "pica" and "elite" classic single-font typewriters, well, here ya go: The "pica" font allowed for ten alpha-numeric characters per horizontal inch, while the more petite "elite" font allowed for twelve alpha-numeric characters per horizontal inch. Imagine that!

Why did I write such retro-tech-based doggerel today? Well, it was the nature of the muse I happened to receive this morning during that lazy, hazy (Crazy?) phase somewhere between being sound asleep and wide awake. Go figure. I mean, I’m probably just as surprised as you are, if not more so. How 'bout that!?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/19/13


Chelsea only changes socks on every other equinox.
She showed me each two-word entry in her journal:
Same two words, "Changed socks," short ‘n’ sweet,
No day or date or self-assessment of her stinky feet,
No indication if an equinox was autumnal or vernal.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/21/13


The prophet prophesied his prophesy.
Then he agitated for it to come to pass.
Alas, like most self-fulfilling prophesies,
When it came true it bit him in the ass.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/22/13


"Damn," Dex thought, "she’s full of piss and vinegar!" And yet,
In deference to her gender, he said, "…pee and vinaigrette."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/23/13


In Europe, from Greco-Roman times through Medieval,
due to wild imaginings, ignorance, and fear,
Mythological hybridized biological monstrosities were
alleged to live in the Southern Hemisphere.
If I had a diametrically-opposed, antipodean identical twin
two thousand miles off Western Australia*,
Relative to me, spatially, his head would freakishly be
below his feet, knees, fat ass, and genitalia.

*Actually, if I calculated this correctly, my antichthones doppelganger should be standing on the deck of a boat that is floating in the Indian Ocean and is positioned approximately 1,800 miles west-southwest from Perth, the coastal state capital of Western Australia. Of course, while more accurate, that sort of specificity would have been much too much information to try to cram into four lines of doggerel**. Don’t you think? (Or, don’t you?) As for my abominably upside-down, but-otherwise-identical, "thought experiment" twin, well, I’m still glad that he is far enough away from the east coast of Africa so as to less likely become the victim Somali pirates. I mean, hey, even if he is a hideous freak of nature, I do not wish him any more misery than what I've imagined his antipodean existence has already caused him. Bless his heart — which, by the way, is another body part below which his head is located per the relative conditions described in today’s doggerel. Oy.

**Yep, today's doggerel was written as just four lines. However, because those four long lines were likely going to have line-breaks haphazardly inserted into them by your browser, I preemptively broke the lines as you see above, hoping to ameliorate any inconvenience to your doggerel-reading experience.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/29/13


The Green-Banded Broodsac is a type of parasitic flatworm.
Its definitive hosts are birds, its intermediate hosts are snails.
The adult lives inside bird guts. Its eggs exit out of bird butts
In poop: a gastronomic delight to gastropods on slimy trails.

In the snail, a.k.a. gastropod, flatworm eggs hatch into larvae,
Forming a sporocyst, or broodsac, that grows in the snail’s eye.
The broodsac mimics a grub, appetizing to any birdbrain schlub.
So, a parasitized zombie snail is forced to expose itself and die.

And thus, the Great Circle Of Life is one big loopy loop-de-loop:
Bird gut, bird butt, zombie snail, bird meal, and then more poop.

Hey, kids, for more information on the Leucochloridium paradoxum, a.k.a. green-banded broodsac, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leucochloridium_paradoxum

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/30/13


[Verse 1]
If I suddenly had my very own prehensile tail,
Do you think you would still love me, m'Dear?
I could reach, grasp, hold, wag, flick, and flail
With my new appendage from above my rear.

[Verse 2]
Damn near as useful as an opposable thumb,
My tail would be way cool and all dory-hunky.
Why, anyone without one will feel real dumb
'N' envy me, stylin' like a New World monkey.

[Verse 3]
I'd hang from tree limbs, hands and feet free.
Text with both thumbs, steer by other means.
With a new tail, there is no downside to see,
Except maybe when I go shopping for jeans.

[Bridge]
I’d be first guest on every TV talk show,
The face 'n' tail on every magazine cover.
Hollywood would offer me leading-man roles.
Models would name me as their lover.
I’d be a multinational corporate brand.
Spammers would cite me in their e-mail.
The general public would love me and,
Likewise, they’d all want to get some tail.

Without fail, everyone will want some tail.

[Verse 4]
Not convinced yet? Well, listen, My Pet, I bet
Our increased love-making options may hold sway:
Front 'n' behind, both the same time, freaky as it gets.
Just us two, but for you it'll feel like a three-way.

Just us two, but for you it will feel like a three-way.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/05/13


A wee mole tunneled into a patch made muddy
By water leaked from a contaminated fountain.
The mole mutated and grew. And whew, buddy!
It's so big it makes a molehill out of a mountain.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/06/13


I will not fly into or connect through L.A.
I mean, Jesus, folks, let's face the facts.
How can we trust airport security, say,
If their name boldly claims they're LAX?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/07/13


When the Giant Interstellar Space Goats arrived
and ate the great American Midwest,
Of all the human flesh the Goats consumed,
they liked the Native American meat best.
If there'd been any Hoosiers left to summons,
due to Goat-retained legal advisement
And due to so few Indians in the mix,
they'd have sued Indiana for false advertisement.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/11/13


Before beginning fulltime ministry,
Jesus' day job was in carpentry.
Nail, hammer, thumb, great pain:
Did he take his own name in vain?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/12/13


Yes, I chucked all of my pocket change into the fountain.
No, I wasn’t superstitiously wishing for true love or luck.
Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, the whole amount in,
Invested in hitting and harassing a loudly-quacking duck.

I exchanged all my paper cash, down to my last dollar bill,
For more coin ammunition. But the duck kept quacking still.
I closed accounts, raided retirement, maxed each credit line.
I panhandle for ammo now, "Buddy, can you spare a dime?"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/13/13


A restless mind and sleepless nights: These are the curse
For the wretch who stoops to write that first doggerel verse.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/20/13


Patty passes gas that surpasses the definition of "reek."
Her cloud can kill passing mosquitoes for up to a week.
Any fly flying by instantly dies after a single searing whiff
And falls from the sky, with nary a twitch and already stiff.
Patty’s singular skill became known to makers of Raid®,
Who hired her fat ass to fart into cans and be nicely paid.
So, Pat got a tatt, a tramp stamp above her butt that said
The trademark slogan of her employer: "Kills bugs dead®"


DISCLAIMER: Today's installment of "Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day" is not intended to constitute an endorsement of any commercial product or service. Nor has Brother Dave or any of his representatives at BD’s Third-World Doggerel Sweatshop LLP received compensation for the mention of a brand name herein. The product name Raid® and the advertising slogan "Kills bugs dead®" are registered trademarks that remain the sole property of their holder SC Johnson & Son, Inc. and are used here only 'cause, hey, that's the way the freakin' cookie crumbled, dude. The muse rules. So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/21/13


I don’t know, but I’ve been told that at "Mistress Spanky’s House of Pain"
There’s a number-crunching woman there who’s an arithmophilic dominatrix.
Her specialty is in disciplining each submissive to exhaust his or her brain
By writing an obscenely-long string of sequential prime numbers in a matrix.


PS: Don’t worry, you traditional masochists, the process still involves leather, latex, chains, and the occasional lash of the whip. Or, so I am told.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/24/13


Officer Myer drew his weapon and fired a warning shot,
Striking the closest peaceful protester fatally in the chest.
During the inquest when asked how he possibly thought
A point-blank execution could constitute a warning shot,
Myer said, "Well, I guessed it was a warning to the rest."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/26/13 - #1


If you are ever invited to dance with the Devil,
Choose a style to best accommodate his moves.
And, on any stage that is hard and flat and level,
Expect a lot of clickety-clacking of his hooves.

So, of course, the old soft shoe will never do.
That vintage Vaudeville routine would be crap.
Straw hats 'n' canes will still work for you two
If, instead of a soft shoe, you both dance tap.

Yes, show dance is preferable to ballroom dance
Because it tends to downplay the Devil's faults.
You should avoid contact, and there's no chance
To escape his embrace in, say, a Tango or waltz.


Ask the band for piano, bass, and brushed snare
Before Ol' Scratch puts in his own music request,
'Cause he likely likes the god-awful honk 'n' blare
Of bagpipes or something else demon-possessed.

Do your dance with the Devil and wow the crowd.
Tap your feet so fast that sparks flash on the floor.
When the dance is done and the applause is loud
And the Devil bows, sneak out the backstage door.


NOTE: This bit of verse was revised and augmented in the wee hours on the subsequent Saturday morning. See NEW & IMPROVED version here.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/26/13 - #2


Some fine recording artists are referred to as "One-Hit Wonders."
Although commercially accurate, the term is often used derisively.
But there have been many great songs not followed-up by others.
And, likely, each one-hit artist scored one hit more than you or me.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/27/13


Singer, songwriter, musician, and photographer
Lou Reed, age 71, has died.
If I believed in an afterlife, I’d likely think Lou has
gone to walk on the wild side.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/28/13


A telegram came down to the front line for Master Sergeant Martini.
His features grew more affected as he read each subsequent word.
A slackening jaw, widening eyes, trembling hands, and total surprise
— I’d have to say Martini appeared to be more shaken than stirred.

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Saturday, November 2nd at 4:30am: Instead of waking up (after only three hours of sleep, mind you) with brand new verse, I awoke with revisions and additions to some of last Saturday's doggerel in my foggy, groggy noggin. Oy.


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/26/13 - #1
(Revised, 11/02/13)



If you are ever invited to dance with The Devil,
Choose a style to best accommodate his moves.
And, on any stage that is hard and flat and level,
Expect a lot of clickety-clacking of his hooves.

So, of course, the old soft shoe will never do.
That vintage Vaudeville routine would be crap.
Straw hats 'n' canes will still work for you two
If, instead of a soft shoe, you both dance tap.

Show-biz dance is preferable to ballroom dance
Because it tends to downplay The Devil's faults.
You should avoid contact, and there's no chance
To escape his embrace in, say, a Tango or waltz.


Ask the band for piano, bass, and brushed snare
Before Ol' Scratch puts in his own music request,
Because he likely likes the god-awful honk 'n' blare
Of bagpipes or something else demon-possessed.

Do your dance with The Devil and wow the crowd.
Tap your feet so fast that sparks flash on the floor

[Instrumental: "Tap Dancing On The Bridge"]

Do your dance with The Devil and wow the crowd.
Tap your feet so fast that sparks flash on the floor.
When the dance is done and the applause is loud,
While Satan bows, sneak out the backstage door.

Oh, yeah! And how! It’s "Feet, don’t fail me now!"

While The Devil is in the details of his curtain call
And the rowdy crowd is shouting out for an encore,
You lose the tap shoes, straw hat, cane, and all.
Street shoes on, you soft-shoe shuffle out the door.

Once again soft-soul shod, you — by guile, by God —
Should soft-shoe shuffle to safety out the back door.

[Instrumental: "Soft-Shoe Shuffling On The Coda"]

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/02/13


If you ever awake to discover that you've been mistakenly
buried alive in your coffin or tomb,
Before you totally freak out, hallucinate as you asphyxiate,
and finally take your final bow,
It might momentarily distract you to remember that when
your eyes open in a pitch-black room,
The uniform dark gray background you might see in the
absence of light is called "Eigengrau."

Hey, kids, for more information on "Eigengrau," see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eigengrau.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/04/13


— FROM EDT TO EST: SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 2013 —

I arrived at the TV station before two o’clock a.m.,
to change the automation back to EST.
First, I reset the ancient Master clock. Then, I
toggled resets of enslaved network clocks.
When my tasks were complete, I left by a route
different from the one by which I’d come.
Thereby, I avoided contact with my future self and
kept from creating a temporal paradox.

No, no one saw me do my deeds. And, no doubt,
if it weren’t for these few lines of rhyme,
No one would ever know how I save the universe
from a tear in the fabric of space-time.

Yes, I heroically saved the universe from an
apocalyptic tear in the fabric of space-time.


PS: You’re welcome.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/05/13


In much of American cinema, as soon as the tensions mount,
The best resolution is bound to be an impressive body count.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/09/13


If you ever decide to add more nuts to your diet,
Beware the weird wannabe dietician who foists her
Nutty recommendation and pesters you to try it —
Especially if she calls it a Rocky Mountain oyster.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/10/13


If you do take the chance to visit Paris, France,
Which is historically known as "The City of Light,"
You should, of course, get an eyeful of The Eiffel.
But pass on going up to its top if you fear height.

Don’t allow traveling companions to goad you into
Disregarding your vertigo. Defy all their cruel urgin'.
A tower’s existence is no insistence that you climb,
Just as a volcano never needs the sacrificial virgin.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/11/13


She had a man's nickname tattooed at the top of her arm.
I saw it best when she was undressed and let me hold her.
I'd have asked for backstory but feared memory might alarm
And rile old anger in a woman with "Chip" on her shoulder.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/16/13


"Give me incredible charisma and the power to sway minds,"
I told the genie whose container I displayed on my credenza.
But he was weary of wishes and of being cramped in a lamp.
So, rather than making me influential, he gave me influenza.

Aching, fever, ejecta from both ends: bad, but nothing tragic.
I get why he sickened me. Seething resentment's a valid reason.
But of his many masters, why was I targeted for wrathful magic?
PS: I'd have been more impressed if it wasn't already flu season.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/17/13


Look, it's Seth and Bettye Jean,
Hooked on methamphetamine.
Instead of cash, they used a pistol
To score their last blast of crystal.
And by "last" I mean "most recent,"
Not a final attempt to stop descent.
If only I could, I would bequeath
Sobriety while they still have teeth.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/18/13


If you awake in the wee hours and you have to pee,
I hope you're not afflicted by the same malady as me,
Whereby lines of rhyme instantly pop into one's head,
Insisting to be written down prior to any return to bed.

AND,…

As if writing is not enough to interrupt one's sleeping,
There's also polishing, publishing, and record-keeping.

Oy.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/19/13


He does not cry, not even when he's dicing onions,
Not even if a school of grunions nibbles at his bunions.
Perhaps he has control of his tear ducts mastered.
Or, perhaps he's just an inhuman, heartless bastard.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/20/13


Mention the proper noun "Liverpool," I imagine a pool of livers.
I wonder if altruistic organ-donors were duped into being givers.
I know The Beatles came from Liverpool, on the Mersey River.
But the aforementioned imagery makes me quake and shiver.

"Quake and shiver?" my therapist said, "We can work it out.
After only four more years of therapy, you will twist and shout."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/21/13


If you should turn to The Dark Side and you no longer give a damn,
You could engage in genocide or, worse, e-mail never-ending spam.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/23/13


My fellow Americans, if you did not know it:
Recent tradition often requires that a poet
Read new verse for a President’s inaugural.
So, someday — if I straighten up and behave,
And if, of course, I’m not yet in my grave —
Maybe I’ll be asked for inaugural doggerel.

That kind of experience could be transcendent.
(More likely to occur if we all vote "Independent")
All politics aside, we should vote and vote often!
Buy votes, steal votes, and pol voters in the coffin!
Stuff ballot boxes full for the candidate who'll pull
For "Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Inaugural."


Oops, I just breezed past that whole "straighten up
and behave" part again, didn’t I? Oy.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/24/13


May that dastardly doggerel writer, in due time,
Truly come to rue the dark day when he was born,
If and when his only reason for writing a rhyme
Is to end a terse verse with the word "flugelhorn."


Postscript: Sorry about that. While surfing through pages on a musical instrument website this morning, the picture of a flugelhorn caught my eye. And then, damn it, the word "flugelhorn" got caught in my mind. It bounced around in there, "Flugelhorn, flugelhorn, flugelhorn." Oy. So, hey, I hope today's doggerel will help exorcize the word from its demonic hold on me. If the word starts to possess your mind now due to your having read the cursed verse above, uh, well, I'm sorry about that, too. If such becomes the case, perhaps it will help you to utter and meditate on these words by Jesus Christ: "Get behind me, Flugelhorn! You are a stumbling block to me; you do not have in mind the concerns of God, but merely flugelhorn concerns." — Matthew 16:23, New International Version (as revised ever-so-slightly by your Dear Ol' Brother Dave). Or, hey, you could try writing your own verse of exorcist doggerel and see how that goes. Pax vobiscum, y'all.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/26/13


For most of my childhood, I have no recollection at all.
Of the few things I do recall, my memories are murky.
Yet, I clearly remember this elementary school song
About Thanksgiving and the mournful tale of a turkey:

[Singing] *

A turkey sat on the backyard fence
And he sang this sad, sad tune:
"Thanksgiving Day is coming, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble,
And I know I’ll be eaten soon.
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble,
I would like to run away-ay-ay!
Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble,
I don’t like Thanksgiving Day!"


* Song Title and Composer Name(s) Unknown well, unknown to me and, apparently, also unknown to the whole freakin' Internet! — BD

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/29/13


If happenstance dropped your doppelganger into your social circle
And your friends and family members mistook him or her for you,
And if circumstances conspired to keep the two of you from meeting,
Do you suppose cheesy formulaic sitcom farce soon would ensue?

Me? If some poor soul in this old world is cursed to look just like me,
Our sitcom pilot would be scrapped for a movie-of-the-week tragedy.

Thin Line


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/30/13


Want career guidance information you can use?
Here's what I found:
You can't make a living from selling horseshoes
In a one-horse town.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/01/13


When an unwanted thought got caught in her mind,
A favored sexual fantasy could provide its diversion.
More and more that tactic is less and less effective,
As time and tide continue in their endless incursion.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/07/13


In Eighteen-Ninety-Seven CE, an eight-year-old
Virginia O’Hanlon wrote to The Sun in N.Y.C.,
To ask if Santa Claus exists. And, so we're told,
A newspaper editor answered her affirmatively.

Francis Church had been a war correspondent.
He could have been so cynical, with just cause.
But, no, he wrote of hope and wonder. He went:
Blah-blah"Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus."

Now, if you were me, I'm afraid there would be
An impish, impulsive, and undeniable urge in ya
To twist Mister Church's second paragraph lead
To read, "Yes, Santa Claus, there is a Virginia."

And for extra measure, as if Santa never knew,
You would add, "There's a West Virginia, too!"


Hey, kids, for more information regarding Virginia, Mr. Church, and Santa, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yes,_Virginia,_there_is_a_Santa_Claus

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/08/13


When I was a kid, sometimes I'd see doggerel along the roadside.
It was five lines of rhyme, one each to a sequentially-spaced sign.
Verses and rhyme schemes varied, all of which I read wide-eyed.
A sixth and final sign revealed the product brand name punchline.

If you're too young to have a hunch, don't get your panties in a bunch.
I, Bro. Dave, will now behave and suggest you read of Burma-Shave®.


Hey, kids, for more info regarding Burma-Shave® and its related advertising doggerel, see: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burma-Shave

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/09/13


Actress in a TV commercial, shilling a brand-name medication,
Begins to state her (fake) complaint by saying, "My asthma"
But I don't hear the rest of her spiel. I compound her vexation
By imagining her breathing in the reeking stench of "miasma."

So then, it seems more credible to me for the actress to moan
Just after she has inhaled a gaseous, odoriferous homophone:
Miasma.

Ask for it by name! Available over-the-counter at (or out
in the fetid alleyways behind) fine pharmacies everywhere!

Miasma!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/13/13


Do you touch the shiny surface
When the sign says, "Wet Paint"?
Sometimes, I'm that kind of guy.
At other times, however, I ain't.

Occasionally, curiosity is lethal.
The incurious can live by that.
But most of the time, you’ll find
Curiosity only colors the cat.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/14/13


I imagine it's due to what a hermit lifestyle displaces:
My sleeping dreams have ventured onto new stages,
Where the imagery is less about people and places.
Now it's like a dream browser with dreamt webpages.

Thin Line


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/15/13


I'm the man in the surveillance van when our secret agents attend a soirée.
I plant bugs in their boutonnieres*, in case someone has something to say.
It's a time-tested technique of spycraft for effectively collecting dug-up dirt.
If some smart aleck mark begins to suspect, my flowers can slapstick-squirt.

* Barrages of inquiry about corsages? Our female agents trend retro-chic,
Wearing top hats 'n' tails, fashion that never fails to recall Marlene Dietrich.
Regardless of style and whether an agent is America's son or Her daughter,
The fate of the free world may rest upon bugged blooms that also shoot water.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/16/13


Miley Cyrus flashed her tits on Twitter to support "Free The Nipple!"
After all the waves she's made this year, will this even cause a ripple?
I'm all for gender equality; it's a recurring theme in my own tweets.
But I, for one, must draw the line and not, likewise, expose my teats.

For more information regarding the subject of today's doggerel verse, please see: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/miley-cyrus-flashes-twitter-to-free-the-nipple-20131216


AND, WOO-HOO, BONUS STUFF!

In acknowledgement of the Chinese having successfully delivered a lander and rover to the surface of the moon, and in anticipation of future manned lunar missions by China, the management and staff at Brother Dave’s Third-World Doggerel Sweatshop And Cheese Emporium, Inc.® are pleased to revisit the following "Classic BDDFTD."


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/06/12


Chinese engineers intend soon to send men to the moon.
But might moon monsters track them, attack, then devour?
Will lunatic lunar beasts gorge themselves when they feast
On their Chinese cuisine, then be hungry again in an hour?

PS: As yet, we at Brother Dave's Third-World Doggerel Sweatshop And Cheese Emporium, Inc.® have, regrettably, no current doggerel products that pertain specifically to Iran's recent claim to have twice launched a monkey into space and, then, successfully returned his fuzzy little butt back to Earth again both times. Rest assured, however, that as soon as our patented BD's Automated Rhyming Algorithm™ spits out the second half of a rhyme-pair for the phrase "Iranian monkey business," our indentured staff of craftsmen er, craftschildren will begin mass-assembling some of the finest (and cheapest!) doggerel that starving orphans can reproduce anywhere. Hotcha!

PPS: Looking for that perfect snack item for your next yuletide party? Well, try a(n in)famous "You'll Cheese Log™" from Brother Dave's Third-World Doggerel Sweatshop And Cheese Emporium, Inc.®! They’re GREAT! And you can be certain that each is an authentic "You'll Cheese Log™" because of the cheesy BD doggerel verse on the label. Accept no substitutes! (And now, the NEW and IMPROVED "You'll Cheese Log™" has 30% LESS Listeria than last yuletide season!) Hotcha, again!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/21/13


Carefully consider another person's rule of thumb.
If it's insightful and efficacious, let its lesson linger.
If, however, it's superstitious, ignorant, and/or dumb,
Feel free to respond with the rule of middle finger.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/22/13


Loretta was looking for a new lover who
Might bring the flames of her passion back.
But she got burned when she turned to
The emotional equivalent of a pyromaniac.

Thin Line


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/24/13


Concerned about widespread overuse of antibacterial soap,
I created Bro. Dave's Bacterial Brand®, solely in the hope
That it will help consumers develop healthy, broad immunity
And that I will make a b’zillion bucks with legal impunity.

Try Bro. Dave's Bacterial Brand®, the soap with the scent
Of organic, all-natural, farm-fresh, germ-laden excrement!

To the few who say, "Ick!" and, "Bro. Dave, how could you!?"
I say, "To every product ever made, someone said, 'Poo-poo.'"
And to those who may say, "Bro. Dave, this product is bullshit!"
I say, "Hey, there's also steer, cow, heifer, and calf crap in it."

Our new Swine Line of bacterial soap, bacterial body wash, and Real Poo (Not Sham Poo) Shampoo™ will be available in Spring, 2014! Look for Bro. Dave's Bacterial Brand® merchandise in finer stores everywhere!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/28/13


In the nineteenth episode of our seventh season,
My TV character developed amnesia due to a blow
To the head, which was only a trumped up reason
For yet another cheap, flashback-filled "clip show."

Gathered 'round my hospital bed, each TV friend
In turn would say, "Bro. Dave, remember when?"
So, after several video clips and commercial breaks,
I regained my memory 'cause, hey, that's all it takes.

Thin Line


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/29/13


If you die while doing a jack-asinine stunt,
During which you were being a total idiot,
Family and friends will still mourn your end.
But, consequently, fewer will actually pity it.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/30/13


To you lazy writers who overuse the acronym LOL:
Often, what you've written isn't the least bit witty.
It elicits no laughing out loud, no laughter at all.
LOL is like a hack sitcom laugh track. It's not pretty.

It is difficult to imagine your words so self-amuse
That you can force, at best, a half-hearted giggle.
But, rolling on the floor? We doubt that you choose
To respond with even as much as a half-ass wiggle.

If we're wrong and what you wrote is an honest result
Of thoughts you consider to be rife with riotous humor,
We apologize and recommend, stat!, a medical consult
Because maybe you have an impinging brain tumor.

Pending neurological reasons for your meaningless LOL,
Expect our morale and esprit de corps will be flagging.
Your lame gags just gag us. There's no laughter at all.
Until there is a better term, let's call it "LOL e-Gagging."

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