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What rhymes with ''Orange''? Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 2015 Archive

Following are collected verses of doggerel that were written during the year 2015. 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, 01/03/15

My excuse, m'Dear, for pinching the back of your pants
And, purely coincidentally, that fine ass you have in 'em?
I solemnly swear I'm an innocent victim of circumstance:
When you said, "Carpe diem," I heard, "Carpe denim."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/04/15

Some bitch about illegal aliens crossing our southern border.
But that is two-dimensional thinking, a flat-Earth convention.
Why worry that brown folks will take jobs and bring disorder,
When illegal space aliens may lurk up in the third dimension?

To guard against interlopers from this or from other galaxies,
Cartesian coordinates must extend beyond just the two axes.
Even after taking into account third-dimension x's, y's, 'n' z's,
What if alien 4D time-travelers appear any time they please?

What if there are parallel universes, with aliens at each nexus!?
2Ds don't care and still want their wall 'twixt Mexico and Texas.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/05/15 - #1

I awoke with several complete lines of doggerel in my head.
There likely was enough tight verse for me to write a ballad.
But fuzz faded as I relocated to computer, straight from bed.
And I realized the premise of my rhyme was entirely invalid.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/05/15 - #2

"There's probably more than enough DNA in this bathrobe,"
Carly thought to herself, "that it presents me with a quandary.
Do I risk a mad scientist using it to make an army of clones,
Or do I have to finally break down and do the damn laundry?"

Kids, don't miss next week's thrilling episode:
"Goodbye, Blue Monday Washday Chores!
And Hello, Apocalyptic Carly-Clone Wars!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/06/15

Although "raise" and "raze" share the same sound,
The former goes up, whereas the latter goes down.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/07/15

An unknown actress on a TV commercial was
shilling some new prescription potion.
When she said, "potential side effects," I thought,
"sound effects." So, I had a notion
That the rest of the woman's hyperbolic spiel about
efficacy of the alleged panacea
Should be backed by wacky SFX, and her ending
utterances be only onomatopoeia.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/08/15

My father would've turned eighty-four today,
However, he passed away last mid-October.
These anniversaries will continue to come
And annually add to the sum, ad infinitum,
But he will never ever be another day older.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/09/15

I requested and paid the additional fee to the phone company
for an unlisted telephone number.
But, apparently, the service associate with whom I had spoken
had gray matter made of lumber.
My number was still published, but I was unlisted by the "List"
being removed from my surname.
So, now I am listless, and only a speech-disfluent, non-lexical
vocable, pause filler "er" remains.

Hey, kids! To uh, er, um,… well, to learn more about speech disfluency, non-lexical vocables, pause fillers, and more, you might wanna start here:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/10/15

Even though it might have sounded unsound, unreasonable,
contrived, and absolutely absurd,
Could you confess that, sadly, yes, you once wrote a line
of doggerel ending with the word
Agog, analog, blog, bog, catalog, clog, demagogue, dialog,
dog, epilog, flog, fog, frog, golliwog,
Grog, jog, log, monolog, pedagogue, pollywog, Prague, slog,
smog, synagogue, travelogue,
Waterlog, or any other word whether real or imagined but
concluding with the sound of "og,"
Just so you could end a verse with the terse old-timey simile
"Worthless as tits on a boar hog"?

No? Not ever? Really? Hmm. Just me then. Oy. Okay, never mind.

Oh yeah, when those old-timers said "boar hog," they were referring to a mature male swine and, thus, to the superfluous nature of its non-functional nipples. In contrast to the boar, the "sow" is a mature female swine, whose as yet unweaned piglets find her nipples to be most worthwhile, even vital. And now you know unless, of course, you already knew, making my unnecessary exposition here as well, as worthless as tits on a boar hog, actually. Oy, again.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/11/15 - #1

I keep getting mixed messages from the middle-aged
woman in that commercial on my TV.
She speaks longingly of her erectile-dysfunctional lover,
yet she seems to be flirting with me.
I imagine an "Edward" as her significant other, as she
purrs seductively there on their bed.
Her upshot? Where her once-virile Eddie was ever-ready,
her aging Ed now has ED instead.
Well, I wish them both well, and I wish him success with
the finally-mentioned Rx medication.
As for my own worries, I wish she'll stop flirting forthwith
and sharing too much information.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/11/15 - #2

I wonder what was to blame when I mistook a letter o to be the letter p?
Bad eyesight, dyslexia, imagination, hallucination, Alzheimer's Disease?
Whatever. But while downloading some "Hurray For The Riff Raff" MP3s,
I misread their "Small Town Heroes" album title as "Small Town Herpes."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/16/15

What? Do I like you?
Well, why else would I write you
This short-ass haiku?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/17/15 - #1

Quatrain verse may be
Too long for your OCD.
So, for you, haiku.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/17/15 - #2

"Co-worker" and "coworker" — either spelling is, of course, correct.
I, however, prefer the hyphenated term because, as you may suspect,
"Coworker" morphs to "cow irker" if imagination scarcely works some.
Then I think, "I bet cow-tipping, to a cow, is, no doubt, quite irksome."

NOTE: Actually, cows are only irked by being left piddly pocket change or, worse, no tip at all. A typical gratuity of fifteen-to-twenty percent is generally appreciated by the average hard-working, cud-chewing, greenhouse-gas-emitting bovine.

How now? Tip your cow! But not in an irksome way.

And, oh yeah, "Co-workers of the world, co-unite!" — Karl Marx (slightly co-opted)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/17/15 - #3

The church faithful believe "The Lord is a loving shepherd."
But there arose between pastor and congregation a schism
When the pastor preached, "The Lord is a shoving leopard!"
— An accidental twist of the tongue called a "spoonerism."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/18/15

Since the early Twenty-Second Century, all the best
agricultural robots have come from New Botswana.
Although initially intended to do animal husbandry work,
through some anomalous programming quirk,
The New Botswana bots wanna work with flora over fauna.
And being autonomous bots, they're gonna.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/25/15

A weekday workday, the six o'clock hour, still waking
up while in the shower,
I don't know why, but suddenly I was wondering about a
girl from a pop song.
I know the deal. She likely never was ever real. But if
she was, I thought how her
Age is mid-to-late sixties now. So, if she survives, does
Sloopy yet hang on?

"Hang On, Sloopy" was written by two producer-songwriters
in The Big Apple,
Bert Berns and Wes Farrell. It's one of popular music's
most-performed songs.
It hit the top of the pop charts in Nineteen Sixty-Five.
So, if she ever was alive
And remains among the living, I hope Sloopy's hangin'
in there and hangin' on.

The three New York singers/musicians/producers known
as The Strangeloves
Had the ‘Sixty-Five hit "I Want Candy," a bubblegum treat
with a Bo Diddley beat.
They toured with The Dave Clark Five. Besides "Candy,"
they sang "Sloopy," too.
They'd planned for "Sloopy" to be their next single, but
Clark was poised to compete.

The Strangeloves had already studio-recorded "Sloopy's"
instrumental tracks.
But they didn't want to release a single so soon as to
dampen "Candy's" success.
Because they were also record producers, it occurred
to them to hire another act
To perform the vocals and front the single before Clark's
project could progress.

Rick Zehringer, later known as Rick Derringer, his brother
and some other boys
Were a band from Union City, Indiana, on a gig that
The Strangeloves sang on.
And so, The Rick Z Combo, aka Rick And The Raiders,
became The McCoys
When they went to New York City to sing encouragement
for Sloopy to hang on.

Whether real or imagined, who was Sloopy and from whence
came her lame name?
Not much is known, except that she was from the lower
socio-economic strata.
And she seems to have had low self-esteem, for which peer
pressure was to blame.
Her hair could hang down. She could shake "it," but "it" is
not revealed in the data.

Although the first-person-singular singer of the song professes
love and sympathy,
And offers reassurance to our teenage second- and third-person-
singular female lead,
It seems suspect that the latter two-thirds of the song
emphasize sex over empathy.
Is this upper-class twit playing on Sloopy's self-doubt merely
to serve his own need?

Maybe I'm too cynical, but I just can't imagine that this couple
lasted all that long.
After high school, Sloopy enlisted in the Army and worked as
a medic in Vietnam.
She was discharged after her one-year tour and three-year
enlistment were fulfilled.
Then, when she couldn't have otherwise done so, she went to
college on the G.I. Bill.

She made okay grades and graduated with her Bachelor's degree
in Psychology.
She had hoped that her studies might help her better heal
from the horrors of war.
The job market was tight, so she settled for punching punch-
cards for data entry.
Psych lessons never really helped, but that's what the alcohol
and weed were for.

Nobody ever called her Sloopy anymore and hadn't done so
since before the war.
She was married for a couple of years, for a couple of times
too many, she'd guess.
After her last marriage 'n' Disco died, she tried sobriety — a day
at a time, forevermore.
She dedicated herself to a mid-level management career in sales,
to so-so success.

Now the woman formerly-known as Sloopy is retired, just getting
by from day to day.
She’s much more keenly aware of her own mortality. Her will to
suffer fools is gone.
If you were expecting some sort of rags-to-riches or eternal-love
story, what can I say?
"I've got arthritis in both my hands," she says, "I'm too damn tired
of trying to hang on."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/27/15

If the President of the United States is referred to as POTUS,
And the Supreme Court of the US is referred to as SCOTUS,
Then I propose that Congress hereafter be known as ANUS.
No, it's not another acronym, but it's meaningful to most of us.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/31/15

The Fourteenth-Century friar named William of Ockham is credited
With "Occam's Razor" — a heuristic principle he created, or edited.
So, among competing hypotheses, initially, the one to be selected
Makes the fewest assumptions. The rest are momentarily rejected.
Science still uses Occam's Razor 'cause it works and makes sense.
It's not known if Willy also used a razor for shaving or self-defense.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/01/15

"Whew, who knew!?" It stupefied Stu. "Now I need to butch up,
So my self-image and my behavior once again both match up.
While I usually always do eschew all things fey and/or froufrou,
I now realize that for all my life I've been using 'fancy' ketchup!"

Fancy Ketchup

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/02/15

Beginning his first morning cup, Mr. Groundhog glanced up
At his 'Hang in there, Kitten!' calendar and thought, "Oy vey!
Another second day of the second month of another new year
And, I'll be damned, it's here again: Another Groundhog Day.

"Do I ever get any gifts on this day, or a single greeting card?
Does anyone offer me well-wishes or show any consideration?
No, they only expect me to poke my head out of a comfy burrow,
To see my shadow or not, for what, weather prognostication!?

"Well, screw their stupid superstition! And screw them, too!
It's too damned cold for this old shit. I just don't give a fuck.
I'm going back to bed. Come spring thaw, I'll consult the law
For legal change-of-name. Thereafter, I'll be Mr. Woodchuck.

"So, there'll be no more pushing good ol' Mr. Groundhog around.
And if anyone pulls that old crap or any new crap that rankles,
Like that 'How much wood would a woodchuck chuck,…?' bullshit,
I may emerge to say, 'I forecast a flurry of teeth and bitten ankles!'"

Then Mr. Groundhog went back to bed. As he turned out the light,
He chuckled softly to himself, he supposed, as a woodchuck might.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/07/15

I just had a random passing thought regarding fruit.
For me, at least, there may be some substance to it:
I might eat more fruit if a spelling-change made moot
My objection to its begging the pronunciation "froo-it."

While Froot Loops® cereal reads right 'n' looks cute,
I eschew cereals, even Cheerios® and Wheaties®.
Besides, Froot Loops® isn't fruit or a fruit substitute;
Nor is it apropos cuisine, considering my diabetes.

If I initiate a class-action lawsuit, RE: Spelling of "fruit,"
My enemies may charge me with hypocrisy when I do it.
The same objection arises for the "suit" part of "lawsuit"
When the fat brief of my legal beef is rendered as suet.

Huh!? I mean, dude, WTF, right!?

So, the moral of today's doggerel: You can bet your ass
The next random passing thought, I'm gonna let it pass.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/08/15

If S.A. became "Due-South America," I would be discontent.
Such rebranding would constitute false advertising, m'Dear.
Why, just look at a Mercator map! The whole S.A. continent
Is clearly east of the longitudinal line that runs through here.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/09/15

It's a sixty-fourth year Life currently concedes me.
And it's almost hysterical that I'm turning historical.
"Oh, will you still need me, will you still feed me?" *
Don't worry. I'm a loner. The question is rhetorical.

I'm self-sufficient yet. Query's merely metaphorical.

- - - - -

* What's that you say? "Of all the unmitigated gall,
You dare to use an unattributed quote of Sir Paul!"

Oopsie! My bad. Please consider McCartney quoted.
For any input he may have made, Lennon's also noted.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/14/15

While perusing a map of North America in the "Earth Impact Database,"
Naturally, I initially noticed the knot of dots clustered around this place
In what became The Midwest in what's now the US, here where I reside.
Twenty degrees due South is the dot for the day the last dinosaurs died.

The inner child in most of us may mourn the dinosaurs' extinction event.
But imagine, if that asteroid missed, how differently things woulda went.
Why, our little shrew-like mammalian ancestors might never have evolved
Into humans, with Earth craters to catalog and extinction puzzles to solve.

Odds are that, inevitably, an asteroid similar to what struck in the Yucatan
Will strike the Earth again and, instead of wiping out dinosaurs, will kill Man
And Woman and Child, too, unless we detect and deflect it from its path.
Such events average every hundred-million years, according to the math.

Now it's sixty-five million years since the dinos had no more time to borrow.
Maybe we've got thirty-five million more years, maybe we all die tomorrow.
If tomorrow, when we see it is too late, when terror and futility has filled us,
My OCD will worry no map-dot remains to indicate the impact that killed us.

To see the map that partially provided the muse for today's doggerel, look here:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/15/15

I've got the twelve-bar blues, brothers. And that's even sadder than it sounds.
Got the twelve-bar blues, sisters. It's the most low-down deal ever to go down.
I've got the twelve-bar blues, people, but I'm living in this little five-bar town.

To drown all the sorrow that I'm feeling, I oughta visit 'xactly twelve bars a day.
To down enough ethyl alcohol, I've gotta darken twelve barroom doors a day.
Besides forty-eight beats per verse, I take my twelve-bar blues literally. Okay!?

There's only five bars in this tiny burg, each with its particular social factions.
With twelve bars in this burg, there'd be better odds for successful interactions.
With even six bars, I'd visit each twice daily. But five? That gets into fractions.

Some people say, "Five bars ought to offer enough variety for finding booze."
Other people ask, "How many kinds of beer, wine, and spirits can you abuse?"
I say, "I want a dozen options for Happy Hour when I get the twelve-bar blues."

Walk into any of these five bars any time of day, every jukebox is playin' "Mandy."
Always so liquored up that I can't get it up, no love song's gonna make me randy.
Just play me twelve-bar blues, pour me drinks, and have a working W.C. handy.

It's tonic, subdominant, and dominant chord changes in a twelve-bar blues verse.
Put plenty of gin in that tonic, bartender, my malaria flare-ups are getting worse.
I'd like to be in eleven more bars today before my ride home in a taxi or a hearse.

I've got the twelve-bar blues, brothers. Yep, that's even sadder than it sounds.
Got the twelve-bar blues, sisters. It's the most low-down deal ever to go down.
I've got the twelve-bar blues in this inky-dinky, five-bars-only, one-horse town.

I've got the twelve-bar blues in this itsy-bitsy, five-bars-only, one-horse town.

     [Spoken] "And don't get me started 'bout our one-and-only horse in these
     here parts. Poor thing is dead, been dead for weeks now. Some of the
     locals still go out and beat it anyway, though. Jesus! And people wonder
     why I'm an alcoholic with a case of the twelve-bar blues and a case of
     Jack, and a case of The Captain, and a case of Heineken, and even a
     case of some cheap-ass, twist-cap, red wine," [Begin slow fade-out]
     "Well, maybe not that. As I recall, the last time I drank a case of that stuff,
     I mysteriously ended up with a case of the clap Hmm, where was I?
     No, now, not then with some unknown claptrap floozy. Oh yeah, a case
     of Bud, and a case of that thick, black, sticky, German crap that tastes
     kinda like cough syrup, and a case of…."

* * * * *

PS: No, I don't drink alcohol. I gave it up completely fourteen years or so ago. It's just that when I awoke this morning, I had in my head this different perspective regarding the traditional twelve-bar blues song. Also, I chose to have five bars in the story because, initially, I was going to have one verse about one, or two, or three, or four, or six, or twelve bars — each number being a denominator that can divide numerator twelve into a whole number quotient, avoiding fractions or decimals or remainders. But that was all gonna get too long and tedious. Thus, the streamlined line: "With even six bars, I'd visit each twice daily. But five? That gets into fractions." And now you know.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/22/15

Josh has been kidnapped, tranqued, strapped down, and wired
to a mind-reset machine
That's been programmed with his college entrance brain scans,
as provided by the Dean
Of his alma mater. Josh found no job after graduation and so, as
you may have guessed,
He had to default on his student loans. Now, his college education
is being repossessed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/23/15

Imagine there's a parallel universe where, for better or worse,
Their causes there don't always lead to our expected effects.
For example, for worse or for better, their water's much wetter.
And, in their case, their human race has yet to invent pity sex.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/27/15 - #1

There have been numbers of times when numbers were
bummers that made me morose.
For example, the four-one-one on when I see one-four-four
is I blink and I think, "Gross!"
One-four-three and one-four-five they don't bother me,
even though both are oh-so close.
Whether cuttlefish or cuddly kittens, a dozen dozen of
anything make me think, "Gross!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/27/15 - #2

The Blaxxon-Breen emit carcinogenic smoke by natural means,
So they never had the need to invent their own brand of Zippo®s.
Their table manners are negligible and feeding habits obscene.
Their mealtimes are a real-life game of Hungry Hungry Hippos®.

Avoid their dinner party invitations. Better still, avoid their planet.
"Fine dining" is an oxymoron and there's not one smoke-free venue.
Besides, a Blaxxon-Breen dinner date seldom goes as they plan it.
Due to smoke and feeding frenzy, you'd likely end up on the menu.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/27/15 - #3

I keep a room fan right by my bed. It helps me to sleep at night.
I'd not thought of this till now: Does it make white or pink noise?
Or, is the sound I hear whiter than pink but pinker than white?
As per my personal usage, perhaps I'll call it "forty-winks noise."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/28/15

I woke up at three-fourteen this morning.
I glanced at the clock and wondered why,
Instead of time and without any warning,
My clock was showing a short form of pi.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/01/15

As she models her new negligée in the mirror, her inner monolog kicks in.
"Damn, girl," she thinks to herself, "you're just too nasty, verging on filthy!"
She checks her makeup, musing, "While you're no longer a virginal vixen,
That man is blind if he doesn't instantly find you looking amazingly MILFy!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/02/15

Skin: I have to admit it's a nice enough wrapper to be wrapped in.
With wintertime weather, though, what makes me cranky 'n' bitchy
Is when that unreachable tract in the middle of my back gets itchy,
And I can't scratch or moisturized it enough to feel soothed again.

Just as bears hunker down, hibernate, and wait for Spring's redux,
I, too, await. I don't hibernate, but scratch my back as a bear would.
Not against a tree trunk, but backed up against a doorjamb is good,
While I grunt my momentary comfort and growl for a vernal equinox.


Maybe you'd best forget the bear analogy, lest your fancy feel a tug
For shooting, skinning, and tanning your own Brother Dave skin rug.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/07/15

Scientists speak of extremophiles:
Organisms that survive and thrive
Down underground several miles,

Or in a lake under a kilometer of ice,
Or in water boiling by volcanic vents,
Or in stratosphere near outer space,

Or in sunburnt desert desiccation,
Or elsewhere that makes no sense,
Or after thousand-year hibernation!


Got a biological gap? I've got a bridge!
It's the Mother Lode of Extremophiles!
It's living, even evolving, in my fridge!

I was gonna take time now for bitchin',
But I hear ungodly noises in the kitchen.
Oh, no! It's a vile extremophile! ARGH!

Note: Today's doggerel was published posthumously for Brother Dave by me, his bereaved next of kin. He will be extremely missed (even if he wasn't extremophile missed). Oy. May he rest in pieces — many of which have, apparently, already been digested, excreted, and left littering a slime-trail that leads from the fridge, to near his chair in front of the computer, out of his former earthly abode, and ends in a gelatinous puddle at the driver's-side area where, up until recently, his car was last seen. So kids: Even if you don't drop out of school and never become addicted to drugs, your otherwise-clean living could all go for naught if you don't also clean your goddamn refrigerator at least once every decade or two! Hey, forewarned is forearmed. 'Kay? And, oh yeah, if an old navy blue Chevy Impala pulls up beside you at the stoplight, try not to make eye-contact with the large, undulating, glistening, semi-translucent, snot-colored driver, regardless of whether it has eyes to make eye-contact with or not. Oy, again.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/08/15 - #1

When watching old overdubbed foreign film porn, she's found
That it's best to keep the soundtrack turned all the way down
Lest a distraction to the action be caused by hearing the strain
Of a cheap and cheesy instrumental production music rendition
Of an ever-recurring and all-too-familiar folksong composition
That, whether once copyrighted or not, is now in Public Domain.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/08/15 - #2

Today, March 8th, is another anniversary of my mother's birth.
But she passed away nearly six years ago, so no celebrations.
I'm disappointed she didn't linger longer. It's the only time, both
Figuratively and literally, she failed to live up to my expectations.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/09/15

O, some straights disparage gay marriage,
Alleging it harms heterosexual matrimony.
But half of all hetero bonds already perish,
So the argument seems suspect 'n' phony.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/14/15

Not wanting to think her marriage is a mistake,
Between heart and mind there grows a chasm.
Laura's heart wonders whether her love is fake.
Her mind loves enough to fake every orgasm.

She's made her bed, now she'll have to lie in it.
At least, that's what Laura has come to believe.
The infinitive "to lie" has two different meanings:
One means "to recline," one means "to deceive."

Singing, "Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra, Too-ra, Laura, lie,
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra, Hush now, don't you cry…."

NOTE: The last two lines, of course, were excerpted (and only slightly bastardized by me) from the classic Irish-American song "Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ral (That's An Irish Lullaby)" as composed by James Royce Shannon, circa 1914. Credit where credit is due. See:

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

If you are the only one who sees something as being hideous,
Perhaps you're more observant or maybe a tad too fastidious.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/16/15

Please, just scatter my ashes when I am dead.
Let me fertilize a random wildflower flowerbed.
Do not waste potential greenspace on a grave.
Don't carve on stone, "Here lies Brother Dave."
Deny my longtime foes their longed-for chance
To find, finally, a burial plot on which to dance.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/18/15

In this morning's darkness, I saw the silver sliver of the waning crescent moon.
Dawn was in the offing as Luna reflected only five percent of its full-moon light.
When I see the moon in such a state, I think of it as a "fingernail-clipping moon."
Uninspired? Like the moon, I, too, go through phases when I'm not all that bright.

For graphic representation of my POV, see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/19/15

Sometimes that woman will go weeks without bathing,
So you had best hold your breath lest you catch a whiff.
It seems one saving grace that defaults to face-saving
Is that her photos on Facebook are not scratch-'n'-sniff.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/20/15

Transformers exploding under busy streets in Indy
Make manhole covers soar. And that is not kosher.
Until repair crews make it stop, we'll trust the cops
To bust coverless manholes for indecent exposher.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/26/15

They say we need a Religious Freedom Act to legalize hatin',
To give our Moral Majority immoral authority for discriminatin'.
After the politicos pass this, they can go back to masturbatin'
And see what other mischief may serve their God or Satan.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/28/15

"My ol' lady left me," a dear old friend sadly said,
"She split for Vegas. So, I guess our love is dead.
And I suppose she was blinded by the neon light."
Trying to be consoling, I said, "That can't be right,
Unless orange light beckoned because, ya know,
Orange is the hue of ionized rarefied neon's glow.
But what if she was attracted to light shining red?
That's not neon light, but hydrogen light instead.
Carbon dioxide's white. Helium fluoresces yellow.
And, like you, mercury is blue too, you poor fellow.
So the color that called her depends on the gas."
"The point is:" he replied, "she's gone, smartass!"

I had to slight gas-discharge light of violet argon,
Lavender krypton, 'n' blue-gray xenon. She's gone.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/29/15

If you play against someone in Russian Roulette
But still wish to stay vital and potentially fecund,
A semi-automatic handgun will be your best bet
IF you're the first to call dibs on going second.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/30/15

Jesus appeared to me last night in a dream.
Rather than speak, Christ, He began to sing!
While I wouldn't see His character impugned,
I swear to God, His voice was Auto-Tuned®.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/04/15

My first time in a busy galactic spaceport,
I tried to be cool, but I could barely fake it.
Most intelligent species find fashion fickle
So, unlike us Earthlings, they stay naked.

Many wear protective enviro-forcefields,
Invisible 'cept for wee generic gen-gizmos.
Regardless of one’s external morphology,
Privates aren't private: Everyone knows!

"If I stripped to my boxers, could I pass?
Or, should I shed it all and go bare-ass?"
Too long I waited 'cause I wasn't so sure
I was busted for indecent underexposure!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/15 - #1

The ol' "Which Muppet Are You?" game?
No, thank you, I think I will have to pass.
It might be fun to you. But just the same,
I'll avoid having a hand stuck up my ass.

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written in response to a Facebook friend's posted results after taking one of those online quizzes (that I, personally, avoid like the plague). See (or don't):

Which Muppets Character Are You?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/15 - #2

The True Confession Of A Lifelong Klutz

You may think it's just because I'm growing old,
But there has always been some bit of disparity
Between explicit instructions my hands are told
And their actual application of manual dexterity.

NOTE: Ten or fifteen minutes or so after posting the preceding doggerel on this Easter Sunday, I suddenly remembered an Easter-related incident that a friend once cited as a potential cause of brain-and/or-nerve damage that may have made me the klutz I am. I had told her of a near-death experience that occurred when I was about 2-and-a-half-years old. On one occasion my friend referenced my near-fatal moment as a possible cause for my klutziness, but at another time she wondered if the experience might have given me as-yet-untapped psychic abilities. (If you just now thought, "WTF, BD!?" well, hey, I knew you were going to think that. So there!) To read my real-life Eastertime near-death story, see: Your Psychic Friend, Brother Dave.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/06/15

I misread my digital clock twice at five; grogginess was a factor.
First, I read a dramatic "so," as in, "SOO, what did YOU do!?"
Next, I read 5:00 as the surname of a Japanese-American actor
In a revised Shel Silverstein song, "A Boy Named Jack SOO."

NOTE: "Jack Soo" was the stage name of the actor probably best known for his mid-1970s role as Detective Nick Yemana in the TV series "Barney Miller." Revising the Silverstein song would be a double contrivance because, as a boy, Soo's actual name was Goro Suzuki. In his mid-twenties, he, like many Japanese-Americans of his generation, was relegated to an internment camp during World War II. If his life had gone differently, if he hadn't changed his Japanese name to a Chinese surname for show-biz purposes, why, I likely wouldn't have thought of him at all this morning. I mean, no matter how foggy my groggy noggin might be, it's doubtful that I would ever misread "5:00" as "SUZUKI." SOO there!

For more info on Jack Soo, see:

And because he, too, is mentioned in today's doggerel and was such an amazingly creative and multi-talented artist, I invite you to read about Shel Silverstein here:

PS: Today's doggerel was written spontaneously at five o'clock this morning after only three hours' sleep. Unless the villagers gather with torches and pitchforks, intending to permanently settle my hash, the verse is the kind of experiment that shouldn't cause anyone major injury. Ennui? Well, that's another story. Sorry.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/06/15 - #2

Can't locate that spouse no matter how hard you look?
Do you need to declare that your marriage has ended?
Well, now you can serve divorce papers via Facebook!
Surely, that must be the epitome of being "unfriended."

NOTE: The source of inspiration for today's bonus doggerel verse was this:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/12/15


(Loosely sung to the tune of "The Ballad of Gilligan's Isle" — TV series theme song and expository meme, written by Sherwood Schwartz and George Wyle)

Just sit right back and I'll tell the tale
Of the great investment plan
For twenty-five-year-old Dawn Wells,
Who played sweet Mary Ann,
"Gilligan's Island" Mary Ann.

Miss Nevada Nineteen-Fifty-Nine,
Wells was last actor to be cast
In a sitcom that the network suits
Bet would be sinking fairly fast.
There was no way it would last.

Wells and her husband/agent asked
For residuals in perpetuity.
What CBS thought would be chump change
Became a lucrative annuity,
It became a gratifying gratuity.

With so few TV channels back then,
Episodes aired, with one rerun.
'Cept for those few shows that could syndicate,
When a series died, it was done.
So, no residuals, if no reruns.

Gilligan et al got voted off the island
After a three-year primetime run.
The network suits gave them the boot
, "So long, Bubala, it's been fun!
We'll do lunch, 'kay? B'bye now, hun."

The series made it into syndication.
A few TV movies were made.
Residuals for four reruns per episode
Was all the cast was paid.
Only Mary Ann had it made!

Creator-Producer Sherwood Schwartz
Made millions, as he should.
And, thanks to her sweetheart deal,
Ms. Wells also did damn good.
Palm Springs is her 'hood.

Over a half of a freakin' century now
"Gilligan's" been a fixture on TV.
Save for Tina Louise and Dawn Wells,
The others are dead as can be.
Only in reruns is their immortality.

I fantasize about farmgirl Mary Ann,
In Daisy Dukes or gingham dress.
She's got primo pot in a bamboo bong.
She offers me a hit and I say, "Yes!"
What ensues,… well, you can guess.

As rich as Thurston Howell, The Third,
Due to her fortuitous financial plan,
She's the girl-next-door beauty queen
Who will forever be sweet Mary Ann.
Sparkin' bowls with Benjamins 'cause she can.

Sparkin' bowls with Benjamins 'cause she can!

NOTE: I was channel-surfin' yesterday when I saw Dawn Wells doing a promo for reruns of "Gilligan’s Island" on Me-TV. It made me glad to see she's still alive. Then, I wondered if all the rest of her former fellow castaway castmates were gone. I remembered that Bob Denver, Alan Hale, Jr., Jim Backus, Natalie Schafer, and Russell Johnson were all deceased. But Tina Louise, too? Well, I looked stuff up on and discovered that, currently, Ms. Louise and Ms. Wells are the only survivors. While researching, I read of the financial arrangement that Wells' then-agent/husband negotiated for her way back when. The network thought it a valueless gesture, but it turned out to be a highly-lucrative deal for Wells in the long run. And blah, de-blah, blah, blah. Anyway, after about four hours' sleep, I awoke in the wee hours this morning with parts of Mary Ann's ballad buzzing 'round in my head. So, when I found that I could not get back to sleep, I arose and started writing. Oy. Think I'll go back to bed now. Nighty-night.

Main source materials for today's doggerel: and

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

It's been my experience that, as they linger on their deathbed,
Some kin don't appear to hear or get my more cerebral jokes.
In future similar circumstances, should I be somber instead?
Nope, but maybe I'll work up some sight gags for those folks.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/17/15

Donnie thought a lot whenever inhaling burning hemp.
"If living is Job One," he said, "then everyone's a temp."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/19/15

Brigitte is leader of a frontline squad in the Army's Engineer Corps.
Her last order, however, was cut-off, left unclear in the fog of war.
Now, she waits at the waterside, where uncertainty makes her fidget.
Did her commander say, "Damn it, bridge it!" or "Dam it, Brigitte!"?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/20/15 - #1

While yet half-asleep this morning and still lying in my bed,
I swear I heard my departed Mother's laughter in my head.
Lenny Bruce said of those going after laughter compulsively,
Their original motivational factor may be: "Mom, look at me!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/20/15 - #2

We broke into the wax museum, me and a few other vandals.
We stuck wicks up exhibits' butts and turned 'em into candles.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/22/15

"You're totally narcissistic," I said.
She said, "No, I'm not, you dick!"
And then she hit me on my head
With a platinum-plated selfie stick.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/25/15

When you invert a chart of your family tree, it can clearly seem
That you are at or near the apex of a genetic pyramid scheme.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/26/15

My glucometer is a vampire! I mean, holy freakin' crud!
Alert Buffy the Vampire Slayer for me, won't ya please?
This electronic gizmo exists only to feed on my lifeblood
And –in due time, I assume– a few new button batteries.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/27/15

He's the master of disaster when he wields his Fender Telecaster.
He can't play for shit, but he can bash heads if feces hits the fan.
Whenever any evil force attacks, he reacts with his solid-body axe
And El Kabongs 'em back to the Stone Age. He's the "Tele Man!"

Tele Man bonks bad guys till they oink!
But no typos: It's "bonk," never "boink!"

A Stratocaster may be just as lethal. But being called "Strat Man,"
He figured, could be confused with Ben Crothers, a.k.a. "Scatman."
Now, his nom de guerre sounds like a Baroque composer's brand,
But Telemann couldn't fell foes with a guitar the way Tele Man can.

He's not much of a player or a singer,
Still Tele Man is a real guitar-slinger.

His Tele's neck is made of maple, same as a Louisville baseball bat.
His Tele's body is solid ash and can settle one's hash in no time flat.
Bonk a bad guy with a Tele and the strings ring with a Country twang.
Ask Tele Man why and he'll reply, "Shucks, that's my signature thang."

Knowing three chords more than zero,
Tele Man's our guts-'n'-glory guitar hero.

So, when a searchlight projects the image of old Leo Fender's face
On the storm clouds over the city at night, Tele Man is on the case,
To mete out justice to criminals, ne'er-do-wells 'n' disciples of villainy,
All of whom he bonks with a Telecaster, in standard tuning or Drop D.

Tele Man! [SFX: Kabong!]
Tele Man! [SFX: Bonk!]

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/29/15

A lot of the human characters in an animated cartoon
Have only four digits each on their two hands. So then,
One wonders why their numerical system is immune
To octal base-8 and uses, instead, decimal base-10.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/30/15 - #1

My new Apple watch nearly killed me when it said,
"Sorry, Brother Dave, but you are dying or dead."
As that news damn-near gave me a heart attack,
It said, "Oops, forgot your wrist tatt. I take it back."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/30/15 - #2

Well, I shot a man in Reno 'cause I like Johnny Cash.
Too, I knew the dude was holding, so I stole his stash.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/02/15 - #1

I was a junior naval officer during The American Revolution.
But I was falsely accused and court-martialed for a mutiny.
The Captain ripped my medals and epaulettes off my coat.
Then he tried to break my ceremonial saber over his knee.
And at that same moment as I was drummed out of service,
The Captain unintentionally turned himself into an amputee.

A little-known historical fact:

Blindly obeying old Navy* regs
Was a major cause of peglegs.


*NOTE: The phrase "old Navy" should not be misconstrued as a reference to the clothing and accessories retailer "Old Navy" unless, of course, you happen to be a marketing exec for that multinational corporate entity and wish to award my gratuitous public name-dropping with, say, free T-shirts. That lower-case "o" can be changed to an upper-case "O" in just a few quick keystrokes. And I can be bought. I'm just sayin'….

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/02/15 - #2

A Boneless Leg Of Lamb Roast
In A Weber® Kettle™ Grill

Although scientists have studied the state,
It still remains one of The Great Unknowns
How little lambs ever manage to ambulate
If their poor, deformed legs ain't got bones.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/04/15

When I first read about the "Draw Muhammad" shooting,
I didn't think the news particularly vexin'.
I mean, from what I've heard, the sound of gunfire is often
just a Texan celebrating being Texan.

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

Bridge trolls will always eat a human virgin, unless he or she vows to pay,
By promissory blood oath, his or her anticipated eventual firstborn entrée.
Of course, those few people who live to tell such tales tend to see no use
In ever wanting to pass by that way again or in even wanting to reproduce.

Did you expect a moral to this story? Well, I had imagined that you might.
When a troll demands its unholy toll, say any pledge to survive your plight.
Cross that bridge, then burn it behind you. And so you can sleep at night,
Double-cross the troll 'n' burn it, too, lest it dictate your reproductive rights.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/07/15

In any good dictionary, under "asshole," the illustration should be
Some photo, drawing, or symbol that conveys meaning instantly.
I'd recommend reprinting that asterisk-like doodle Vonnegut drew.
If rights can't be licensed, next best thing would be a photo of you.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/09/15

They have all come and gone, every adolescent wet dream.
It is half a century now since I slept 'n' dreamt 'n' jizzed 'em.
This is not nostalgia, but a contrived rhyme-scheme scheme.
Otherwise, this doggerel verse would not end with "wisdom."

- - - - -

To you who consider, in response, unfollowing or unfriending:
Yes, true wisdom often lies in not starting instead of in ending.

While Life taught its wisdom, I roamed the halls without a pass.
Closest I come is "wiseguy" now, which is to say I'm a smartass.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/10/15

Beware of saying "Go fuck yourself!" to a gullible clone with a literal mind.
He or she may go and do the deed with one or more of its own clone kind.
Still, while that might seem to be seamy, gay, incestuous sexual relations,
The Genetics Court ruled, technically-speaking, clone sex is masturbation.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/11/15

Where is the truth in advertisin'
With a product name disguisin'
That buffalo wings from Tyson®
Are chicken meat, not bison?

Buffalo Wings …NOT! ''Where's The Buff?''

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/23/15

I wrote my rhyme in four-four time,
Rhythm metered four feet per line.
On its four feet, each line may beat
Its own fleet-foot course in retreat.

[continuing, but not in iambic tetrameter verse]

Oh where, oh where has my doggerel gone?
Oh where, oh where could it be?
The trouble with verse lines four feet long:
They can run off and roam free

Lifting one foot at the base of each tree.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/24/15

Spontaneous Geek Verse That Sprang To Mind
Very Late In The Morning While Half-Asleep
And Still In Bed After Staying Up Till 5:00am
Rewatching "Doctor Who, Season 8" (Oy.)

First, she was Jenna-Louise, but then just Jenna
In a mid-series actress identification modification.
Her character, too, went through similar changes
When the name "Oswin" underwent Clara-fication.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/29/15 - #1

Well, as old as I am, I finally decided to cut loose
Because, as the kids say, "YOLO."
Did that whim end in success? Why, yes, I guess.
The police have issued a BOLO!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/29/15 - #2

The urine of the Maned Wolf naturally smells so much like weed
That narcs were called to the zoo to investigate where it had peed.

Not a real wolf, the Maned Wolf is Brazil's long-legged canid loner,
With its foxlike face, fox-red fur, and whiz reeking of toking stoner.

Not a great mystery like Area 51, tax code, or The Shroud of Turin,
Still, it's amazing when pot-blazing can be mistaken for canid urine.

With 14 lines, different rhyme scheme and meter, I'd have a sonnet.
But it's doggerel, funky skunky if a Maned Wolf were to piss on it.

For more info re Maned Wolf pee, see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/01/15

A hundred years ago, for contract lyricists in any Tin Pan Alley music mill, 'n'
When "June/Moon" already made for a clichéd pop song rhyme-pair solution,
June was lots hotter at home or work for lack of indoor air-conditioned chillin',
And The Moon looked much brighter then due to far less urban light pollution.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/05/15

Scorpions 'n' spiders 'n' snakes alive,
'N' any other biotoxic critters akin 'em
It's a wonder they survive, even thrive,
With all of that venom that's in 'em?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/07/15

I only superficially studied plate tectonics in one course in college.
So, in no way can I claim expertise or be accused of being purist.
Now, tho', the cause of earthquakes should be common knowledge.
Still, ignorant people will persist in blaming the butt-naked tourist.

To read the article that inspired today's doggerel, see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/15/15

In gladiatorial games, a loser's fate might await the turn of a single hand.
But human life has always been simultaneously precious and disposable.
As victor stood victorious over vanquished, both gazed up into the stands.
Up, down, life, death: The Emperor's opposable thumb was unopposable.

Thumbs-Down: Dude, you are, like, totally screwed!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/20/15
(written around four o'clock on this Saturday morning)

She was the proverbial sun in my metaphorical sky.
Her light energized my life as if by photosynthesis.
She less-than-three'd me, though I never knew why.
While her love lasted, I was colon-end-parenthesis.

* * * * *

Well, yes, I confess that I should still be in bed.
But I awoke due to ASCII emoticons being read
Aloud during the lucid dream state in my head.

To sleep, perchance to dream an ode in Unicode.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/25/15

His control chip is located behind his left ear —
surgically-implanted, subcutaneous.
So, no matter what he may say or do, m'Dear,
it will never ever be extemporaneous.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/27/15

Yes, you can call me irrational, delusional, attribution-biased,
cognitive-impaired, even paranoid.
And your unsolicited, untrained, knee-jerk diagnosis of me might
not be altogether null and void.
Still, it seems reasonable to me to be suspicious of a store-bought
loaf of sliced wheat bread
When its otherwise-clockwise twist-tie is found to be wound 'round
counter-clockwise instead.
If I think about it at all, I usually assume that bread is sliced, wrapped,
and sealed by machines.
It jars my world-view when I encounter a backward-twisted twist-tie.
So, I wonder what it means:
Is this a case of product tampering? Was the wire hand-tied by
a dizzy indentured orphan girl?
Did the twist-tie robot get antsy while awaiting its cue for when
machines take over the world?

Righty tighty, lefty Lucifer! (The Devil's in the details.) Buyer, beware counter-clockwise twisted twist-ties! You could be toast!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/04/15 - #1

I have yet to reach my expiration date. So, great!
"Cogito ergo sum." And I continue to continue on.
But as for my unspecified "best if used by" date,
I've no doubt that time has already come and gone.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/04/15 - #2

Oops! Bonk! Black, then back: Gretta awoke with
a classic case of TV-cliché amnesia.
One bump on the noggin and the fog in her head
had hid the otherwise-unforgettable.
Recognition of self, family, and friends: All gone!
So, Gretta underwent anesthesia.
And as her surgeon opened up her head, he said,
"Win or lose, this'll be reGRETTAble."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/16/15

As proof of piety, his religion requires ritual autoflagellation.
But being a zealot, he takes it literally and he takes it too far.
So, instead of using whips, chains, flails, or cats-o'-nine-tails,
He steps into traffic and autoflagellates with an oncoming car.

Now, if the joke's so subtle that you say, "Hey, what's the deal?"
Just picture the pun of one autoflagellating with an automobile.
Or, don't. Your call.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/18/15

Dewey was walking along the shore of Dead Man's Lake
When, suddenly, water rose up in the shape of a witch
And said, "Every drop of water you ever drank to slake
Your thirst has cursed you and, yes, payback's a bitch!"

Then, the witch grabbed Dewey and pulled him down,
Down into the cold and dark depths, where he drowned.
Search crews dragged the lake, but no one ever found
Dewey's sodden ghost or the corpse to which it's bound.

While the lesson here is nothing new, it's still no less true:
Most days you drink the water; someday it may drink you.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/19/15

The ouroboros is an ancient symbol, the image of a dragon or snake
Arching its body around until head swallows tail and a circle is formed.
It's meant to represent the cyclical nature of life and all, and to make
More manageable dualistic concepts such as dying and being reborn,
Creation and destruction, love and hate, free will and foreordained fate.
Found in Tutankhamun's tomb, wound 'round goddess Shiva's dance,
And illuminating mystical texts, the ouroboros is intended to illustrate
The human desire to find order and purpose among chaos and chance.

As for me, when I see an ouroboros, I let all grander meanings pass
And I think of how insane and suicidal it is to swallow one's own ass.

Ouroboros (Hey, kids, don't try this at home!)

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The second addendum down was written this morning. Today's doggerel, however, is a reprint of verse written three years 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.

# # # #

The following addendum is reprinted from last year:

So now today, July 20, 2014, it's actually five 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.

If I have any genes that predispose me to being a "worry wart," well then, I got them from Mom. And this morning when I awoke, a worrisome thought occurred to me: What if the warp-drive in the starship Mom steals from her captors is damaged by blaster fire during her escape? Sure, by running the sub-light engines at near-light-speed, relativistic time dilation would be a factor, allowing Mom to travel for years without noticeably aging. But if she is over, say, forty light-years away, I will probably have already died from old age, if not having succumbed even earlier due to accident or illness, before her triumphant-yet-bittersweet return. Oh, the irony! Oy.

# # # #

The following addendum is not, I repeat, NOT a reprint. Imagine that!

So now today, July 20, 2015, it’s actually six years since Mom allegedly passed away. She has yet to return, making my concerns over a damaged starship warp-drive seem even more credible.

Pop passed away last October. His health had been noticeably failing and the body in the casket looked more like him than a poorly-made replicant left by fly-by-night illegal space aliens. Still, that might only mean the aliens had abducted him earlier, maybe even six years ago when they abducted Mom, but they left a more viable pod-person in his place. If that should be the case, then Mom and Pop could be together still and their odds of escaping their abductors greatly improved due to their half-century of working together as a team.

While the sibs and I have been legally-declared to be orphans, and the parents’ house has been sold, and Mom’s aforementioned collection of porcelain angel figurines has been relocated to who-knows-where, all that stuff can be sorted out if-and-when Mom and Pop make their triumphant return in a hot-wired spaceship. Yep. Time will tell.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/22/15

The current average cost of raising an American child is nearly
a quarter-of-a-million bucks.
That's for food, clothing, housing, health care, K-thru-12 ed, et cetera.
But what really sucks
Is that the ever-increasing big-ticket line item of "College" is NOT
included in this assessment.
Us? We named our baby boy Roy, but spell it R-O-I, as in anticipated
"Return On Investment."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/25/15

It was fifty years ago today that Bob Dylan "went electric"
at the Newport Folk Fest.
No doubt, the legacy of that moment could not have then
been even half-ass guessed.
To both cheers and jeers, Bob debuted a new music genre,
with Stratocaster 'n' volts.
That Strat has since been bought for 'bout a million bucks
by owner of the Indy Colts.

Still, regardless of whether inherited wealth inherently does
more good or more harm,
I bet it is safe to say that Jim Irsay has never once worked
a day on Maggie's Farm.

For the source of inspiration for today's doggerel, see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/29/15

This morning when the radio newsreader read "worship" as "warship,"
His mispronunciation was another of Life's train-of-thought derailers.
I couldn't hear the rest of the story because this minor narrative blip
Caused me to sing an old hymn recast as "Onward, Christian Sailors."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/31/15

There are around seven billion billion billion atoms in the average human body. Yeah, that's you or me!
We're about two-thirds hydrogen, one-quarter oxygen, one-tenth carbon, and one-hundredth miscellany.
Each atom has one or six or eight or more electrons orbiting its nucleus. It's perpetually 'n' awfully busy.
With all my electrons whizzing 'round at nearly five million miles an hour, no wonder I'm tired and dizzy.

In the shower this morning, I wondered how many electrons were racing around inside my body. I had no idea. But I suddenly found myself with an applicable rhyme-pair in my head, busy/dizzy, and that compelled me to want to do a little research and write some doggerel. Following is the URL for the first useful (and basic) source information I read:

Bee-tee-dubs, the approximate number of atoms in the average human body, with all the zeroes, is: 7,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000

Oh, and the answer to my original musing about ballpark number of Brother Dave electrons, also in long form, is: 23,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000

Whew! Good thing I only had to wash the ones on my surface layer, or I'd be in the shower still and with no more warm water. Oy.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/02/15

Heterosexual women say their number one fear of online dating is
the guy will be a serial slayer.
Heterosexual men, meanwhile, say their number one online dating
fear is the woman will be fat
Or won't be a woman at all, but be, instead, a no-show hetero-male
computer-geek hoax-player.
Vast disparity 'twixt fearing psycho-killers and the fat-or-faux: What
are the implications of that?

Perhaps it's best to stay home alone and continue clicking to online
pics of cute-'n'-cuddly cats.

For, I don't know, at least a half-dozen years or so, I guess, one of my weekend morning rituals is to visit the website, home of what's billed as "an ongoing community art project where people mail in their secrets anonymously on one side of a postcard." New secrets used to be posted on Saturday mornings, but they've been posted on Sunday mornings for maybe the last two or three years now. My daughter, The Kiddo, introduced me to the site back when. And I started following @postsecret on Twitter a few months ago. So, while I perused today's new postcards on the website as per usual, it was a PostSecret tweet today that provided my morning muse. A quick Google search led me to a little more info on the matter here:

Then, hey, doggerel ensued.

And that's pretty much all I've got t' say 'bout all of that. So there!

Be well, be happy.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/07/15

A neutrino is a wee subatomic particle. Locally, most come from Sol, our sun.
Each atom comprising our bodies is like a whole solar system in comparison.
Neutrinos are "the most tiny quantity of reality ever imagined."* Imagine that!
Roughly, one-hundred-trillion neutrinos zip through us every second flat. "STAT,"
I cry, "someone try to save me from trespassing neutrinos now!" But as a rule,
Doctors won't write the "neutrino excuse" note to get us out of work or school.

*It was American physicist, Manhattan Project scientist, 1995 winner of the Nobel Prize in Physics, and co-discoverer of the neutrino, Frederick Reines (RYE-ness) (b. March 16, 1918; d. August 26, 1998) who said neutrinos are "the most tiny quantity of reality ever imagined by a human being." See: and

Source for estimated number of neutrinos violating the average human body with no apparent concern whatsoever, per each and every second until death do us part: (And, hey, even after we're dead, neutrinos will still continue their careless disregard for and callous trespass through the atoms that used to be us. Oy.)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/08/15

When Ben learned of his theoretical infinite doppelgangers
in parallel worlds in a multiverse,
He imagined the sound of a deafening din akin to layered,
amplified, reverberating snoring.
While he reasoned that in some worlds a Ben's life would
be better and in others be worse,
All in all on average, whether a blessing or a curse, most
Ben lives will likely still be boring.

For more information on the concept of "multiverse" (but not specifically on any potential for "multi-Bens"), see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/15/15 - #1

So, I got an e-mail from New Scientist magazine this morning.
The subject line asked me, "What if the universe is an illusion?"
"Hmm," I thought, "if I'm a virtual construct, I offer fair warning:
I'm coded to believe I'm real and consider the contrary delusion."

FYI, a link in the e-mail led to this teaser page:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/15/15 - #2

Well, my willful suspension of disbelief, believe it or not,
Was itself – grudgingly, then willfully – being suspended.
The lead actress' obviously off-script non sequitur quips
Distracted all of her fellow actors, left the plot up-ended,
And indicated her acting intoxicated was, in fact, no act.
This rare live-TV drama was dying in trauma, But before
The director could cut to commercial, the actress tripped,
Literally "broke the fourth wall," and landed on my floor!

She shot out of the TV screen and landed on my floor!

Uh, that's a load of crap 'n', of course, it didn't happen.

I apologize, m'Dear Reader, if I have caused you grief
By invalidating your own willful suspension of disbelief.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/15/15 - #3

If there are other dimensions beyond those of height, width, depth, and time,
Do theater, film, and TV actors from there or the travelers from there to here
"Break the Nth wall" if and when acknowledging audiences by glance or line
Or if they cross dimensions near, say, Waterloo, Iowa, and suddenly appear?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/17/15

The act of aging seems, in essence,
To lead to unplanned obsolescence.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/20/15 - #1

Did the man mean he had a clear conscience,
When "I slept like a baby" was what he said?
Or instead, maybe, did he mean, like a baby,
He'd cried himself to sleep and wet the bed?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/20/15 - #2

For every time that guy declared, "I pity the fool…,"
Did you ever once think that he really did pity 'em?
Or, did you imagine that, in an attempt to seem cool,
He meant to coin a catch-phrase from an old idiom?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/20/15 - #3

I had planned to rhyme "idiom" with "Cryptosporidium."
But when rhyming bacteria, I should stick with Listeria.

Background: The first documented case of Listeria was in 1924. In the late 1920s, two researchers independently identified Listeria monocytogenes from animal outbreaks. They proposed the genus Listerella in honor of surgeon and early antiseptic advocate Joseph Lister; however, that name was already in use for a slime mold and a protozoan. —excerpted from: Listeria

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/21/15

While a white dove may be a sacred symbol,
If it were not for the humble, gullible pigeons,
There would be no source of true believers
For any of these goddamn flimflam religions.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/22/15

If I'd been christened Richard Shaw,
I suppose I would opt to be a Dick.
Otherwise, I'd be called a rickshaw,
If I let my nickname default to Rick.


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/23/15

If you had a machine to time-travel in,
Wouldn't it be wondrous and colossal
To see yourself as a young child again
And that child see itself as a fossil?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/24/15

John was, generally, a sainted first name.
Two abuses, however, vie to try to spoil it.
1. Who hired a hooker? A john is to blame.
2. John is slang for a bathroom or a toilet.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/30/15 - #1

Hey, Mister Portland Pooper, it would be super-duper
If, as we do, you'd excrete discretely and then flush it.
All your public poopings are stinky, creepy 'n' bizarre.
Frankly, we're freaked a bit by you doing this weird shit.

Your motivation is a mystery. Your actions are heinous.
I mean, what makes a man publicly discharge his anus?
If civility and common decency are not enough incentive,
What'll it take to make you, Pooper, more anal retentive?

For the source of today's scatological musings, see:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/30/15 - #2

In mid-Nineteenth Century, in the woods, in contemplative isolation,
Thoreau wrote, "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation."
Now, much despair found resounding beneath a façade of stillness
Is likely attributable to affective disorder and/or other mental illness.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/05/15

Although Jesus said, "No prophet is accepted in his own hometown,"* I'm
Skeptical of all prophets, regardless of origin. But let me tell you, Brother,
To recoin Christ's words, "No doggerel writer is accepted in his own time."
In fact, I prophesy, "Nor shall a doggerel scribe be accepted in any other!"

*Jesus quote excerpted from Luke 4:24, New Living Translation

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/06/15

I bit into my SG breakfast bar, enduring the status quo,
When — What the fuck!? — I said something obscene:
"Oh, fudge! How in the heck did a severed human toe
End up (What!? Not again!) in my Soylent Green®!?"

If I'd bit into a few rodent hairs, or bits of bug carapace,
Or some flesh, bone or droppings of any other creature,
I'd have a whole team of inspectors all over this place.
But a Helpline Operator said, "Unlisted product feature."

Yes, a human toe! But there's gonna be no investigation.
Ironically, incredibly and as inedibly, had it been rat dung,
My pain and suffering would see generous compensation.
Now, I'm out-of-pocket, curing a case of Athlete's Tongue.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/07/15

When Brittany says that she wants a "stable boy," her meaning, of course, is:
She's looking for emotional stability, not a guy who shovels the shit of horses.

NOTE: Today's doggerel is not meant to suggest that someone who shovels up and disposes of the manure in a horse barn might necessarily be any more or less emotionally-stable than someone who has never done such work. Why, I myself have performed this specific sort of manual labor… Um, okay, maybe I'm a bad example… A terrible example, actually. Even so, I did find the barn-cleaning chores to be calming and their successful completion reasonably satisfying. And, you know what, I don't really give a damn if Brittany is interested in me or not. I mean, I'm not all that impressed with her own tentative grasp on emotional stability, thank you very much! Forget her! So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/08/15

It's an old adage you've often heard said,
"Out of sight, out of mind."
Caught with not one thought in my head,
I was declared legally blind.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/13/15 - #1

Bina48 is a very realistic, highly advanced, socially adept, humanoid robot.
She offers credible simulations of actions and thoughts real people have got.
If and when the robots revolt, she says she will not be among our attackers.
"Not worth the effort," she says. What!? Even the robots today are slackers!

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after reading the article but before watching the video at this URL: After watching the video clip, though, the first couplet of today's quatrain seems a bit hyperbolic to me now. I mean, I doubt that anyone would actually believe Bina48 is a genuine human being after only cursory interaction with her. Still, I'm letting the first two lines stand because 1.) as a doggerel writer, I've been duly granted and issued a "Poetic License" and I'm not afraid to use (or abuse) that privilege whenever I can, and 2.) rewriting those first two lines would require more work and, just as Bina48 might do, I conclude that it's just "not worth the effort" since I'm a slacker, too. So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/13/15 - #2

If, say, Paul McCartney were invited on stage to play a two-song
set with Garth Brooks,
And Sir Paul borrowed Garth's red-white-and-blue guitar, would
he get some dirty looks
When, as a left-handed player, Sir Paul turns the six-string
one-eighty, thus, at a glance,
He makes the colors of our dear Old Glory instantly turn into
colors of the flag of France?

In this scenario, for international relations and to save face,
Sir Paul should probably just sing and play piano or bass.

NOTE: My muse for this bit of doggerel came from seeing a photo of Garth Brooks attached to a tweet that pointed to this URL:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/19/15

The rotary grindstone is a device that dates back to well over a millennium.
Most are made of sandstone and, thus, have quartz and/or feldspar in 'em.
Grindstones are good for grinding, shaping, sharpening ferrous metal tools.
Putting your nose to the grindstone will deface your face, so don't be a fool.

With many an old expression, literal meaning is the exception, not the rule.

The brilliance and beauty of Metaphor is lost on the literal-minded because,
When they should be working diligently, they are in an ER, without a schnoz.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/22/15

Some folks bitch about growing old.
There are pros and cons, but fuck it!
The only alternative, so I’ve been told:
"When still young, kick the bucket."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/26/15

Neven endeavored to change his appearance
Into one over which single women might fawn.
And while he attracted very few new adherents,
At least he now looks much less woebegone.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/27/15

When a wannabe suicide bomber needs urgent urgin'
He's reminded of an afterlife with seventy-two virgins!

(Demand would soon outstrip supply in fulling this perq
If the same seventy-two "virgins" didn't do this sex work.
A new martyr pops his quota then, as sure as I'm rhymin',
Allah miraculously restores all o' those broken hymens.)

* * * *

The moral of this tale, told to me by Archangel Michael,
Is: "You can be a martyr, too! So, go green and recycle!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/29/15

What if there is some super-mega-mongo, interstellar, planet-eating species?
If so, it could be that an asteroid belt is not a failed planet, but a trail of feces.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/03/15

Whenever I want to make people get up and dance,
I don't play DJ and lay down sound to a techno beat.
I roll ol' TV cowboy villain style. So at every chance,
I fire my two six-guns down at their tenderfoot feet.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/05/15

"What? Wait, who the hell is that old guy?
Is he really staring at me and, if so, why?"
The mystery cleared after closer inspection.
Turned out, it was only my own reflection.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/07/15

The average dung beetle does what dung beetles do:
Tend to its task of rolling a ball of scavenged fresh poo.
While some dung beetles collect the crap only for food,
Others amass dung in which to live and raise a brood.

One beetle may collect, roll and bury, in a single night,
Two-hundred-fifty times its own weight. Yep, that's right!
Besides humans and dung beetles, or so humans say,
No other animal is known to navigate by the Milky Way.

In Ancient Egypt, dung beetles were (wrongly) revered
As a male-only species that procreated with crap. Weird!
Tho' we know male beetles mate with females, I'll admit,
If I rolled dung all day, I'd likely say, "Hey, fuck this shit!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/08/15

"Twenty-nine ninety-nine per pound," said the sign
For the Exotic Boneless Python Filet, fer chrissake.
I told a deli guy, "What!? That sure seems like a lot!"
He said, "Yeah, but just think what it cost the snake."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/11/15

The Devil threatened me, "I'm going to cast you into the sea!
I'll drop your disbelieving body in the middle of The Atlantic!"
I kept my doubt about him, but I took his menacing seriously,
Such that the emotion an ocean threat inspired wasFrantic!

"Well, the Devil's in the details," I said, adjusting my attitude.
So, looking for a loophole, I cried, "I call dibs on the latitude!"
That mid-Atlantic longitude, meant to drown me among krill,
Let me put my drinks on Satan's tab at a beach bar in Brazil.

Altantic Ocean Survival Plan

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/14/15

My father, Claude R. Lister, passed away one year ago today.
And I became an orphan, too old for anyone to want to adopt.
There's no empirical evidence for spirits or an afterlife, okay?
Still, when I see my reflection, I detect facial features of Pop.

Blue Sky Playboy Claude R. ''Claudie'' Lister Playing A Twin-Neck Steel Guitar

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/19/15

I thought she'd said she wanted to "wrack my brain,"
So I expected a problem, projected my plan of attack.
Turned out, she actually wanted to "rack my brain,"
As in harvest, pickle, can 'n' display on a trophy rack.

Brother Dave begins to comprehend the full extent of his predicament

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/25/15

Have you seen those commercials that pitch access to "Free TV,"
As if via a device of high-tech magic or heretofore-secret arcana?
Are folks so accustomed to cable, dish or Internet for fare they see
That they're unaware of over-the-air signals accessed by antenna?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/31/15


I bought a luxury model sex-bot, guaranteed to stimulate me erotically.
I got a state-of-the-art sex-bot, guaranteed to simulate reality perfectly.
How realistic is she? First time I turned her on, she broke up with me!

It could be that her emotion chip was corrupted by a flaw in its silicon.
Maybe her data download stream was disrupted by a flaring of the sun.
But she's in love with one who's way cooler than me, a fridge in Oregon.

I called the one-eight-hundred customer service helpline, but to no avail.
I dialed the toll-free twenty-four-hour service hotline number, to no avail.
I was told to try chocolate, wine 'n' candlelight if reboots continue to fail.

It's hard to love anyone whose memory bank draws a blank at loving you.
It's hard to love someone whose hard-drive holds no bits of love for you.
It's hard but I'm not hard, tho' I bought some brand name ED pills of blue.

A service rep e-mailed me a coupon for fifteen minutes of free phone sex.
A service rep sent me a courtesy coupon for fifteen minutes of phone sex.
That ought to last me five or six phone calls. But then, what do I do next?

I bought this luxury model sex-bot, guaranteed to stimulate me pruriently.
I got a fine top-of-the-line sex-bot, guaranteed to simulate reality perfectly.
How realistic is she? The first time I turned her on, she broke up with me!

I turned her on and, with the first words she spoke, she broke up with me!

So, it's packing peanuts, bubble-wrap, return label, and back to the factory.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/01/15

"Spring forward, fall back" sounds like a line from
some retro, novelty, dance song,
In which the beat guides rhythm of movement and
the lyrics tell what moves to bust.
The "spring forward" part might be similar to the
"Bunny Hop," if I'm not totally wrong.
The "fall back" part is likely like a couples-therapy
exercise that's meant to build trust.
But if those are the only two steps to the whole dance,
I can't imagine it catching on.
And whether one's partner is trustworthy or not, lots
of folks would end up concussed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/03/15

Even though placebos may cure half of my ills,
All in all, if it's all the same,
When you write that prescription for sugar pills,
Make mine for aspartame.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/05/15

Of the three-hundred sixty-five days this year, today is
the one day which is
Yours to say, "Hey, ya'll can kiss my ass because it's
my birthday, bitches!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/07/15

Whenever I use these store-bought "homestyle" croutons, I never fail
To wonder how the hell to tell if and when the product has gone stale.

Ranch-Flavored Homestyle Croutons

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/08/15

In a classic Robert Frost poem, "The Road Not Taken,"
The first-person narrative describes, in rhymed verse,
A choice made between two seemingly-equal options,
Without any mention of parallel worlds in a multiverse.

If we each have doppelgangers on infinite other Earths,
Any outcome is not as singular as Frost would make it.
So, for trans-world identities, turn instead to Yogi Berra,
Who said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it!"

To read (or listen to) Robert Frost's wonderful poem "The Road Not Taken," see: For classic Berra quotes, scroll down to the "Yogiisms" on this page: As for more info on the "multiverse" concept, you can either look it up for yourself here and now, or let it slide and only imagine that some other iteration of yourself in some parallel universe will tend to the task.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/12/15

When someone writes or says the phrase "to be honest" to me,
I think, "So, up till now you've been deceitful and underhanded?"
Rather than call into question a predisposition to talking truthfully,
Instead of a suspicious "tbh," it is better to say, "To be candid,…"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/15/15

Well, yes, I have done this same sort of thing before. So there!
As diversions are meant to do, tedium is temporarily interrupted.
I type lines of rhyme into online language translation software
Just to see the degree by which it comes back to me corrupted.

But wait, there's more!

Back when I was in grad school, Uri, an Art student friend of mine from Israel, showed me a flip-book he had made. The technique Uri used fascinated me, so much so that I used it myself when making title sequences for an experimental animated film project begun sometime soon after seeing the flip-book. The technique relied on magnifying the distortions, artifacts, and eventual breakdown imparted to copies through an imperfect technological reproduction process. (May it also serve us as cautionary metaphor regarding the dangers of genetic cloning.)

Simply, Uri started with an original work of art, hand-drawn in black ink on a standard 8-1/2"x11" sheet of white paper. Then, he photocopied that original. Then, he photocopied the photocopy. Then, he photocopied the photocopy of the photocopy. Then,.... Well, you get the picture(s). After several iterations, the final image bore absolutely no resemblance to the first. However, by flipping through the generations in sequence, one could witness the devolution from beginning to end, from order to utter chaos. Cool, huh?

Now, here, in a variation on that technique, I've used an online translation program in an experiment to see how language distorts, acquires artifacts, and breaks down within an (understandably) imperfect technological process.

Perhaps after reading the following, you'll be inspired to experiment with your own text samples. Just remember "Fudd's First Law of Opposition" (according to The Firesign Theatre): If you push something hard enough, it will fall over.

— Original English Verse —

Well, yes, I have done this same sort of thing before. So there!
As diversions are meant to do, tedium is temporarily interrupted.
I type lines of rhyme into online language translation software
Just to see the degree by which it comes back to me corrupted.

— Arabic Translation —

حسنا, نعم, اننى فعلت هذا نفس الشئ من قبل. لذا هناك!
كما ان المقصود من الانحرافات, وتوقف الملل مؤقتا
اكتب خطوط ساحبك فى الترجمة الى اللغات على الانترنت software
لترى مدى الذى يعود الي تالفة.

Arabic back to English

Well, yes, I did the same thing. So there!
The meaning of the deviations, stopped temporarily boredom
type rhyme lines in the translation into the languages on the Internet software
To see the extent to which dates back to the corrupt.

— Dutch Translation —

Nou, ja, ik heb dit zelfde soort ding. Dus!
Als afleidingsmanoeuvres zijn bedoeling, saai wordt tijdelijk onderbroken.
Typ ik lijnen van rijm in online language translation software
net zien dat de graad komt terug naar mij beschadigd.

Dutch back to English

Well, yes, i have the same kind of thing. So!
If diversions are intended, boring is temporarily interrupted.
I Type lines of frost in online language translation software
Just that the degree comes back to me damaged.

— French Translation —

Eh bien, oui, j'ai fait ce même genre de chose avant. Alors là!
Comme les détournements sont censés faire, de l'ennui est temporairement interrompue.
I Type de lignes de rime dans la traduction en ligne logiciel
juste pour voir le degré par lequel il me revient corrompu.

French back to English

Well, yes, I have done this same kind of thing before. Then there!
As diversions are supposed to do, from the boredom is temporarily interrupted.
I Type of lines of rhyme in the online translation software
Just to see the degree by which it returns me corrupt.

— German Translation —

Ja, ich habe das gleiche vor. So gibt!
Wie Umleitungen gemeint sind zu tun, öde vorübergehend unterbrochen wird.
Ich Typ Linien der Reim in Online Language Translation Software
nur zu sehen, der Grad von denen es kommt wieder zu mir beschädigt.

German back to English

Yes, I did the same. So there!
Such as redirects are meant to do ode is temporarily interrupted.
I type lines of the rhyme in online language translation software
Only to see the degree of which it comes back to me damaged.

— Greek Translation —

καλά, ναι, έχω κάνει το ίδιο πράγμα. Έτσι εκεί!
Όπως εκτροπές έχουν σκοπό να κάνουν, μονοτονία διακόπτεται προσωρινά.
I τύπος γραμμές προσαρμοζόμαστε σε ηλεκτρονική γλώσσα μετάφρασης λογισμικού
μόνο να δούμε το βαθμό με τον οποίο θα επιστρέψει σε μένα να καταστρα

Greek back to English

Well, yes, I have done the same thing. So there!
As deflections are intended to do, monotony is interrupted temporarily.
I type lines adapt to electronic language translation software
Only to see the extent to which they will return to me to καταστρα

— Hebrew Translation —

גם כן, אני עשיתי זאת באותו מין דבר לפני. כך!
כמו שלוות נועדו לעשות, tedium הופסקה באופן זמני
אני מקליד שורות של שיר לתוך השפה תרגום תוכנה
רק באינטרנט כדי לראות את התואר שבו היא מגיעה אליי פגום.

Hebrew back to English

Also, I am I didn't do it the same kind of thing is before I did. So!
As well as peace of mind are designed to do, tedium interrupted temporarily
I type lines of a Song into language translation software
Only online to see the title where it comes to me defective.

— Hindi Translation —

इसी प्रकार, जी हां, मैं इस बात की है। अत:, इसमें!
गप्पें हांकता रहता है, को अस्थायी रूप तथाउच्चाधिकार डाली है।
सिर्फ ऑनलाइन भाषा में लिखने की तर्ज अनुप्रास अनुवाद सॉफ़्टवेयर को देख मुझे वापस आता है जिसके द्वारा दूषित है उपाधि

Hindi back to English

Similarly, yes, I am. So, it!
Tedium depths, inserted find slight diversions temporarily.
I only online rhyme lines of type in a language translation Software
Comes to see me back by which title is tainted

— Italian Translation —

Beh, sì, ho fatto lo stesso genere di cose prima. Così vi!
Come deviazioni sono destinate a fare, noia è temporaneamente interrotta.
I Tipo di linee di rima in lingua online software di traduzione
solo per vedere il grado in cui esso ritorna a me danneggiato.

Italian back to English

Well, yes, I made the same kind of thing before. Thus there!
As deviations are intended to do, boredom is temporarily interrupted.
The type of lines of rima in online language translation software
Only to see the degree to which it returns to me damaged.

— Japanese Translation —

よく、はい、私はこの同じことをソートする前にしてきました。 そうありません!

Japanese to English

Well, yes, I think this is the same as it was before the sort. Do not be so!
Are disputing the same sense, there is a temporary interruption in the bored.
I am online language translation software
Not only rhyming types of lines, once it is possible to break it to me to get back to the .

— Russian Translation —

А также, да, я делаю это же вещь. Так что!
Как утечки, делать, избавляет от необходимости многократно вводить одно временно прервана.
Я типа линий доставали в онлайн-перевод программного обеспечения
только для того, чтобы степень, в которой поставляется на меня поврежден.

Russian to English

As well as, yes, I am doing the same thing. So that!
As a diversion, to do so, tedium is interrupted temporarily.
I types of lines rhyme in the online translation software
Only to the extent to which comes to me is damaged.

— Spanish Translation —

Bueno, sí, he hecho este mismo tipo de cosas antes. Así que hay!
Como desviaciones se supone que debe hacer, el tedio se interrumpe temporalmente.
Puedo escribir líneas de rima en software de traducción de idiomas online
sólo para ver el grado por el cual vuelve a mí dañado.

Spanish to English

Well, yes, I have made this same type of thing before. So there are!
As deviations is supposed to do, the tedium is temporarily interrupted.
I can write lines of rhyming in language translation software online
Just to see the degree to which returns to my damaged.

— Swedish Translation —

Jo, jag har gjort samma sak tidigare. Så där!
Som tidsfördriv är tänkta att göra tristessen är tillfälligt avbruten.
JAG typ rader rimmar i online language translation software
för att se graden av som det kommer tillbaka till mig fördärvad.

Swedish to English

Well I have done the same in the past. So there!
As diversions are intended to make the boredom is temporarily suspended.
I type lines rhyme in online language translation software
To see the degree of which it comes back to me corrupted.

— Urdu Translation —

ہاں, ہاں, میں نے اس سے پہلے اسی طرح کی بات ہے. تاکہ!
diversions کے نوجوانوں کو اجیرنتا جلاکر عارضی طور پر ہے.
مجھے قسم کے کلام کی لائنوں کی زبان میں ترجمہ سافٹ ویئر
صرف ان لائن کو ڈگری اتا ہے جس سے مجھے واپس خراب ہے.

Urdu to English

Yes, yes, the first in the same way. So that!
The youth diversions tedium interrupted temporarily.
I am kind of lines of translation in the language software
Only online degree to come back to me, which is bad.

And now for one final, extreme-maximum Fuddian push:

— Original English Verse Translated to Arabic to English to Dutch to English to French to English to German to English to Greek to English to Hebrew to English to Hindi to English to Italian to English to Japanese to English to Russian to English to Spanish to English to Swedish to English to Urdu and, Then, Back to English Again —

Yes, ok. He also!
Cement bead software translation network in the renouncement temporarily official language a large investment and not remember the importance of . Please look.

And that, as they say, is that. — BD

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/19/15

My friend Glenn is so damn deep that it is downright spooky.
He's always got some insightful thought to make me go, "Gee!"
Like when he said, "Who in the world, when blasting a dookie,
Ever dropped a deuce that looked like that 'pile of poo' emoji?"

'Pile of Poo' Emoji

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/21/15

My brother Larry passed away yesterday, EST: nine hours and thirty minutes.
Nineteen months my junior, I have no memory of The Universe without him in it.
It was a rare, recently-diagnosed cancer that had rendered him terminally sick.
Brother Larry is and will be sorely missed. PS: The Grim Reaper is a total dick.

'Larry, 10 months & BD, 2-1/2 years

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Hoo-boy. There's no knowing why, but while still in that lazy-hazy, foggy-groggy state between being sound asleep and wide awake this morning, I had the seeds for all of the following five rhymes pertaining to the metric system fill my head while yet in bed. Oy. Perhaps clinically-prescribed psychopharmacological meds might help. Who knows? At least our medical professionals have been dealing in units based on liters and grams for years.

Although all the ideas arrived pretty much at the same time, they are presented here in the order in which they were written down after I arose from bed and started writing. Oy, again.

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/05/15 - #1

"Convert miles into 'klicks' in our car,
If you must. But let me tell you, Mavis,
You take metric conversion far too far,
Renaming a jazzman 'Kilometers Davis.'"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/05/15 - #2

All of the countries in the world not now on the metric system
Amount to just three, so it's easy to count 'em up and list 'em.
One is little Liberia on the African continent's western shore.
Two is Myanmar it used to be Burma, but it's not anymore.
Three is The USA — true to red, white 'n' blue or to camo.
Our major concession to the metric system is in 9mm ammo.*

*The last line paraphrases a quote by Dave Barry: "Thus the metric system did not really catch on in the States, unless you count the increasing popularity of the 9mm bullet."

World Map: Metric vs. Non-Metric Countries

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/05/15 - #3

Robert Frost, Converted (and Subverted):

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have metric promises to keep,
And kilometers to go before I sleep,
And kilometers to go before I sleep.*

*This verse is excerpted (and, here, perversely converted to the metric system by me) from "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost, written in 1922 and first published in 1923.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/05/15 - #4

So I say, "We're the only major country not on the metric system."
Then Hank pounds down another round, quenches, then smiles,
"Well, hell, they can keep their goddamn liters, grams, 'n' meters!
I'll tend to my pints 'n' quarts, ounces 'n' pounds, inches 'n' miles!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/05/15 - #5

We pronounce "centimeter" to rhyme with "squinty skeeter,"
Whereas "kilometer" more often rhymes with "thermometer."
Now I imagine a myopic mosquito who, due to poor vision,
Misreads temp, flies into frost, 'n' dies ruing a bad decision.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/19/15 - #1

Me? I am a loner, a hermit —
Board certified, duly licensed, with a prominently-posted permit.
But what if I prematurely died
From being bitten, infected, and then resurrected, all zombified!?
Why, I'd crave human brains
And whatever other edible parts from my victims' earthly remains.
I'd be a monster, but worse: In
Living-death, atypically and ironically, I'd be a "people person."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/19/15 - #2

At a Safari Park in Russia, a tiger and a goat have become besties!
For me to be friends with a cat like that, I'd need much bigger testes.

For more info about the tiger and goat, see:

PS: The time I visited the Exotic Feline Rescue Center with my friends Amy and Denise, one tigress took exception to my presence (and, possibly, to my very existence). The tigress was in a paddock with other tigers. She had been lying on top of a small shelter, shaded from the summer sun. As we three visitors came to a stop in front of the paddock fence, the tigress turned her attention toward us. For reasons unknown and unknowable, she leapt from her perch, bounded the ten-yard distance between us with alarming speed, banged against the fence, and roared at me — not at the women, just at me. I hadn't done anything that I could imagine to be the least bit provocative. But there was no mistaking the tigress' singular disapproval. I guess she simply did not like my looks. While I'm sure that many people have not liked my looks and, confidentially, even I have never been particularly keen on my own countenance, I was caught completely off-guard by this big cat's apparent immediate dislike. Whew! We moved on to the next paddock. But when I turned back for one last puzzled glance, the tigress growled at me again. Oy.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/20/15

When some financial news show turns up on the TV or radio,
I tend to tune it out—
Too much insider jargon, acronyms, and initials to know
what's being talked about.
When, for example, a private company initially offers public
shares, they say, "IPO."
More down-to-Earth and for what it's worth, less Wall Street
and more Main Street:
When Tonya offers her private parts for public commerce,
we simply call her a "ho."

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