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What rhymes with ''Orange''? Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 2017 Archive

Following are collected verses of doggerel that were written during the year 2017. Some verses may be accompanied by notes that were originally included when posted on Facebook and/or Twitter, usually within a few minutes of the verses having been completed.

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

For years, the government of China mandated a
strict "one child per family" policy,
All in an effort to curb population growth and its
demands on each limited resource.
But that gave rise to selective abortions, favoring
boys due to tradition (and fallacy).
Now there are thirty-three million more men than
women in China. So, intercourse?
Well, you know China makes so many products,
exporting most to the rest of world.
They make half of all sex dolls but keep the majority,
for guys needing surrogate girls.

Today's muse: "China makes half of the sex dolls in the world and uses around 70% of them." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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

Rasputin died a century ago, plus one or two days.
Exactly when or how many times, no one can say.
After ingesting cyanide-laced cakes, tea, and wine,
Incredibly, miraculously, he seemed perfectly fine.

So, his impatient host drew a gun and shot him twice,
Thinking poison AND point-blank lead would suffice.
But Rasputin arose from the blood-drenched floor,
Went outside, was discovered, then shot once more.

His body was hauled back indoors, presumed dead.
Another gunshot for good measure, to his forehead.
Then, wrapped up in a blanket and iron-chain bound,
He was dumped into an icy river, where he drowned.

When his corpse was found, all clues indicated he'd
Revived under the ice just long enough to be freed
From his bonds before he died, Russia's "Mad Monk."
But some say he lives to this day. I say that's bunk.

Poison, bullets, drowning? Fine. Surviving Time? Bunk

Today's muse: "WWI Centennial: Rasputin Murdered." — Mental Floss

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/02/17

There's a bird, a cardinal, outside my bedroom window.
Does that bother me in any way? I have to say, "Nope."
I'm reasonably certain I'd be closing the curtain, though,
If instead of a cardinal, it was a priest, bishop, or pope.

DISCLAIMER: No, there really isn't a cardinal outside my window today. At least, I'm unaware of one being there. I wrote the preceding doggerel after seeing a photo from a friend's x-years-ago-today Facebook "memories" that popped up in the news feed a little while ago. (I'm lookin' at you, Amy Hensler.) I only make this statement now so as not to seem to be intentionally trying to mislead any dedicated birdwatchers out there. And, oh yeah, I'm not a Catholic, either. I don't want to seem to be intentionally trying to mislead any Catholics or, especially, any Catholic birdwatchers out there. It's simply a case of coming up with the punchline first and, then, having to write and rhyme my way to that end. So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/03/17
(Written after rereading Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/03/13)

It's a mighty fine line, not emblazoned or embossed.
So, no, you might not see it until the line is crossed.

— • —

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

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

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

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/05/17

Yesterday, I heard a high-tech news story on one of my analog radios,
About how engineers are working on making an electronic cyber-nose.
If they were to test it on your farts, might it reply, "No ifs, ands, or buts,
Those trillions of microorganisms in your colon really hate your guts!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/16/17

Okay, so it's not doggerel, per se. But, hey, there's some internal rhyme and alliteration in the title, and this screenplay was spontaneously created after rereading a haiku I'd written exactly two years previously. See:

Brother Dave's "Sixty-Second Cinema"
Screenplay For The Day, 01/16/17

     FADE IN:
     COVER SHOT: It is a lovely summer day in Paris.
     After establishing the city skyline, we slowly
     lower our view to street-level, to settle on two
     men seated around a small table at a sidewalk
     café. MASAOKA SHIKI is twenty-nine-year-old
     Japanese poet, author, and literary critic. His
     companion is RAINER MARIA RILKE, a twenty-one-
     year-old German poet and novelist. A WAITER
     reaches in to refill the wine glasses of the two
     patrons, then leaves. Already buzzed, the men
     take to the newly-filled glasses with warm smiles
     and glassy-eyed gusto.

     Their conversation continues:
          Zo again, mein dear Masaoka, vahs
      ist daht name you give your style of
                                              CUT TO:
     CU: Angle on Masaoka Shiki.
                                              CUT TO:
     CU: Angle on Rainer Maria Rilke.
               (laughing, beat, continuing)
          You zee vaht I did zehr, mein friend?
      I make zee little joke. You zay, "Haiku"
      vitch zounds like a sneeze. Undt den I
      say, "Gesundheit." Ist funny, no?
                                              CUT TO:
     TWO-SHOT: Shiki responds to Rilke.
          Ah so.
                                              FADE TO BLACK
               (V.O., continuing)
               (then good-natured laughter)
               (V.O., joining in the laughter)
                                              FADE AUDIO OUT

— • —

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, 01/17/17

Though we may be curious about your exact age,
Good manners prevent us from asking such things.
But Emily Post never wrote a single forbidding page
Against cutting you in half and counting the rings!

DISCLAIMER: Hey, the preceding doggerel was written on and in commemoration of an old friend's birthday, so pardon me for being sentimental, 'kay?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/19/17

Jennifer Aniston is shilling yet another product in a commercial on TV.
Tho' I may seem like a heartless S.O.B., I can still weep, cry, even sob.
So those artificial tears Jen is selling really don't appeal or apply to me.
Besides, as an actress, selling us fake tears is part of her regular job.

You’d rather buy them from me than from a man-eating crocodile, right?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/26/17

To illustrate the full extent to which he does not give a damn,
His circle intersects with no other circles on a Venn diagram.

To illustrate the full extent to which he does not give a damn, his circle intersects with no other circles on a Venn diagram.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/28/17

Now you're calling me a smart-ass!?
Well, I have always been this way.
But I had hoped I'd be a wise-ass
By the time I got this old and gray.

To illustrate the full extent to which he does not give a damn, his circle intersects with no other circles on a Venn diagram.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/02/17
(Based on a true story)

While in the kitchen a moment ago, where and when the microwave
clock displayed "5:08" in that particular instance,
I misread it as "SOB." And then wondered if I was being told to cry
or if the microwave was mourning its own existence.
So, I had seen the word “sob” in emphatic all-caps. But you may say,
"Hey, Brother Dave, what if your fundamental glitch
Was in thinking your microwave was demanding uncontrollable tears
When it was calling you S.O.B., as in 'son of a bitch'?"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/04/17 - #1

"So, is that a banana in your pocket, or are you just
glad to see me?" she said.
I hadn't thought that I'd be caught, but answered, "I
don’t mean to seem elusive."
I took the banana from my pocket and slipped off my
robe at the foot of her bed.
"But sometimes the choice between binary answers
is not mutually exclusive."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/04/17 - #2

When Dwayne wasn't being nearly assertive enough to suit her,
Vicki Sue publicly voiced her displeasure rather than be discreet.
"You’re a pussy!" she yelled. With no remote control to mute her,
He deflected the insult, saying loudly, "Well, we are what we eat!"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/09/17

Don't call ol' Joe a racist, sexist, misogynist, ageist,
homophobe, or xenophobe. Nope,
He hates pretty much anyone and everyone, and
proudly owns the title "misanthrope."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/12/17

Oh sure, the meaning of the idiomatic phrase "Hell to pay" is
reasonably unambiguous when seen in print.
When only heard, however, it may seem that a man's demon-
possessed hairpiece might be what is meant.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/14/17

Eric Clapton isn't God, no matter what some slogan from old graffiti insists.
The most profound difference between the two is that Clapton really exists.

Eric Clapton as ''The Preacher,'' leader of the Marilyn Monroe cult in the movie ''Tommy'' (1975).

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

Intrinsic in the nucleic acid sequence of our human genome
Is a fetal stage of development that makes us deuterostome.
In contrast to protostomes, whose first orifice is their mouth,
Our initial embryonic deuterostome orifice forms further south.

It’s a fact of life, not a slander meant to demean or defame us:
Our very first orifice, or blastopore, becomes our lifelong anus.
Once, we were each just assholes! And now that you know it,
Be glad you outgrew that stage. Some folks never outgrow it.

Today's muse: "Humans are deuterostomes, which means that when they develop in the womb the anus forms before any other opening (which means we all were at some point nothing but an asshole)." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/21/17

I used my best Bluegrass pickup line, "Honey, let me be your salty dog."
But her glare conveyed that I am worthy only of open animus and odium.
"You are so disgusting," she said, "abhorrent, repugnant, and loathsome.
My salty dog!? As if! I'm a cat person, on a prescribed diet low in sodium."

I've been familiar with the "Salty Dog Blues" since, well, pretty much forever. And while I've always been curious as to what a salty dog might be, I guess I never had enough motivation to perform even the most basic sort of research regarding the phrase until now:

"Salty Dog" comes from the archaic practice of rubbing salt into the coat of one's favorite dog as a flea repellent. Therefore, one's "salty dog" is one's favorite person, best friend, and so on. This is the meaning of the line in Salty Dog Blues: "Let me be your salty dog, or I won't be your man at all." — Edited excerpt from Salty Dog (slang) at Wikipedia.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/25/17
(Written after revisiting other doggerel on its third birthday)

How many people entering port stared up at the Colossus' crotch?
Well, we've no way of knowing, but I'd be guessing it was boatloads.
It's just another mystery of ancient history that all historians botch.
Meh. I'd rather know who is The Colossus of the Fender® Rhodes.

— • —

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/25/14

"The Seven Wonders of the Ancient World" should
be filed in my memory bank.
Maybe in middle school I could name the lot. If so,
that knowledge did not endure.
There was the Great Pyramid, Hanging Gardens,
Colossus,… Then I draw a blank.
So, the "Wonders" were aptly named, because I
wonder what the hell they were.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/26/17
(a slight panning of pancakes, a minor flap over flapjacks)

There's round, square, rectangle, sheet, springform,
tube, specialty, novelty, et al
— When it comes to making cakes, some kind of
cake-baking pan is what it takes.
But pancakes!? They don't bake in any cake pan,
but fry in a frying pan! The gall!
Call ‘em griddle cakes only if made on a griddle
which isn't a pan, fer chrissakes.

An Assortment Of Cake Pans

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/02/17

It's a fact that the word "poecilonym" is an old synonym to the word "synonym."
So then, taking a logical approach, based on mathematics and not on a whim,
According to Algebra's Symmetric Property of Equality (No flam and/or flim!),
If A equals B, then B equals A, and "synonym" is synonymous to "poecilonym."

Muse for today's doggerel: "The word 'poecilonym' is actually the synonym to the word 'synonym.'" — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/06/17

According to Sherry, be wary if Harry asks you if it's okay for him to vent.
Instead of candidly sharing some grievances, he means he'll be flatulent.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/15/17

Well hell, you really have to hand it to William Shakespeare,
Even if he sometimes wore a sissified ruff of lace and starch.
Instead of something like "May mid-March fill you with fear,"
He wrote a much more ominous "Beware the Ides of March."

George Vertue's ''Shakespeare With A Ruff''

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/16/17 - #1

A week ago, I awoke in the wee hours with a Midwesterner's
words echoing in my head.
From his "Farewell Transmission" song, "Long, dark Blues"
is what he repeatedly said
. Awake, asleep, awake again, "Long, dark Blues" until the
alarm buzzed me out of bed.

When Jason Molina self-medicated for his long, dark Blues,
alcohol was his go-to med.
Songwriter, singer, musician: Thru a handful of band names,
he was the unbroken thread.
Due to alcohol-related organ failure four years ago today in
this town, Molina was dead.

"Long, dark Blues. Listen…."

Songwriter, singer, and musician Jason Andrew Molina was born December 30, 1973 in Lorain, Ohio. He died at the age of 39 years of alcohol-related organ failure on March 16, 2013, in Indianapolis, Indiana, with nothing in his pockets except a cell phone. End Of Transmission.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/16/17 - #2

She used to be my baby,
But now she's such a bitch.
So, no if or and or maybe,
It's a case of bait 'n' switch.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/21/17

Today, March Twenty-First, is "World Poetry Day" according to UNESCO.
That's the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization.
Poetry and poets are to be esteemed and celebrated today, as is apropos.
We doggerelists, however, are told to cease 'n' desist or face incarceration.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/23/17 - #1

It's a sort of flight of fancy, a smoke-'n'-mirrors mirage,
or maybe mental misdirection
That takes place in the average person's mind when
inspecting one's own reflection,
To see one's own physiognomy as more physically
attractive than what it, in fact, is.
So, rather than romantic leads, we'd be cast as comic
relief if Real Life were Show Biz.

Today's muse: "People see their own faces as being more physically attractive than they actually are." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/23/17 - #2

I thought I’d put on a blue-striped shirt in dim morning light. Instead,
It was a full three hours later when I realized I had missed the mark.
My green-striped shirt reminded me of something Ben Franklin said
About why young men should consider taking older women to bed.
For my shirt or Franklin as a big flirt, "All cats are gray in the dark."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/24/17

Perhaps the origin of crop circles appearing in fields of grain can be traced back to the space alien moms who were too delicate, dainty, and ethereal.
Yeah, I know it’s a common cop-out to blame parenting. Still, at breakfast time it would have been fine to say, “Hey, kids, don’t play with your cereal!”

NOTE: Last year, Facebook began to remind me on a near-daily basis of something I had written and posted [x]-years-ago to the day. I wrote the preceding exceedingly-long couplet of lines after being reminded this morning of this following verse from three years:

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/24/14

If a race of space aliens actually communicated via crop circles,
Imagine the scale of ag production one alien novel would need:
A continental plain all sown in grain, plenty of sunshine and rain,
Then the full text imprinted before harvest or it all goes to seed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/25/17

The man and woman in a two-person sleeper cell
Fell in love, though they knew it shouldn't happen.
When the signal came to rise up and raise holy hell,
The two were in a cozy post-coital cuddle, nappin'.

And that's why the dam still stands and we're still dry.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/28/17

Professional musician James McKee, 33, of Kankakee,
passed away on the date
Of March 15th. McKee had registered as an organ donor
for when he met his fate.
After a pedantic semantic interpretation, however, by a
representative of the State,
The late keyboard player's treasured Hammond B3 was
confiscated from his estate.

Before you imagine that's a cold and callous thing for a
heartless bureaucrat to do,
McKee's Vox Continental, Farfisa Combo, and Fender
Contempo were taken, too!
All those vintage musical instruments aside, was McKee's
real intent given its due?
In contrast to his keyboard collection’s prime condition,
his insides were useless goo.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/31/17

Once I was this young and trim, clean-cut G.I.,
Who'd make Spec/5 rank, equivalent to "Sarge."
But I looked like some freaky, hairy, hippie guy
Just a few months after an honorable discharge.

Time flew by and I grew old, my hair grew thin.
That's Life well, my life. I am not complaining.
No comb-over, Rogaine, or Hair Club for Men:
I am buzz-cut again, as I was in Basic Training.

So, this has only been a pause for self-reflection.
Not to be mistaken for nostalgia, regret, or sorrow.
Seeing an old photo led me into this introspection,
Reminding me Life is "Hair today, gone tomorrow."

BD in Basic Training, Graduation Day

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/01/17

Listening to music is one of the few activities
that utilizes all of your brain.
At least, that's what a factoid I read said. Then
I wondered if it's germane
To all music. I mean, there must be a caveat
concerning the matter's crux.
Maybe, for example, it only takes half a brain
to listen to music that sucks.

Today's muse: "Listening to music is one of the few activities that utilizes the entire brain." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/03/17

The NSA cryptographers who hacked the CDC,
I do not know if I should disparage or pity 'em.
They learned while targeting its encryption key,
A computer hack cannot crack cryptosporidium.

NOTE: Don't be alarmed. To my knowledge, the activities outlined in the preceding rhyme have NOT happened. The four lines were merely an exercise in working out the whim to associate "cryptography" with "cryptosporidium" in verse. As such, and due to the inclusion of this explanatory note, the imaginary incident outlined in today's rhyme should not be misconstrued as being an attempt at fabricating so-called "Fake News" or "Alternative Facts." If, however, some future exposé surfaces about a covert operation similar to that described above, it would be a case of Life imitating Doggerel. Oy! For those of you who may not be familiar with some of the more arcane passages of Biblical prophecy in The Book of Revelation by John the Apostle, well, "Life imitating Doggerel" is one of the least ambiguous signs heralding The End of Days. So, beware and always wear clean underwear! So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/17

They were two similar people in the same situation, as far as I could tell.
All things being seemingly equal, I could only wonder, "What's the diff?"
The first faced the matter with a resigned-but-despairing, "What the hell?"
The second, however, asked aloud a solution-seeking, "But, what if?"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/11/17

Some may say that she had a failed marriage, of course.
She, however, chooses to see it as a successful divorce.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/12/17 - #1

The novelty song "Your Feet's Too Big" was published
in The Great Depression.
Written by Fred Fisher and Ada Benson, it has graced
many a recording session.
Recordings range from Fats Waller and Ink Spots to
Leon Redbone and Beatles.
However, I'd recommend recording this song only when
it's the lesser of two evils.
I mean, really, a song criticizing the size of someone's
feet? You'd better let it pass.
Otherwise, regardless of shoe size, a pissed-off bipedal
person could kick your ass.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/12/17 - #2

Standing in line at the pharmacy, I see the dumbest brand
name I have ever seen.
O-M-freakin'-G! It looks like the name of a space alien, not
some new antihistamine!
XYZAL® looks unpronounceable, and could only seem sexy
to those who hate sex.
Maybe a marketing dude named it after a dude ranch, ‘cause
backwards it's LAZY X.

Remember, Kids, XYZAL spelled backwards is just the cliché name of a dude ranch: LAZY X.

NOTE: The same day I posted it here, I also posted this doggerel verse as a series of four tweets on Twitter. The day after, I got an unexpected response from the XYZAL Twitter account:

XYZAL reacted to my doggerel on Twitter.

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

OMG! This year is the one century anniversary of "OMG."
If anything can blow your mind, maybe this research'll:
Sometime during The Great War, apparently historically,
Someone wrote "OMG" in a letter to Winston Churchill.

Since it was called "the war to end all wars" back in the day,
You'd think writing "OMFG" in WWI would have been okay.

Today's muse: "The first recorded use of 'OMG' was in a letter to Winston Churchill written in 1917." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/16/17

The data indicates a sleep-deprived person is more apt
To behave antisocially, as a cheater and liar and thief.
But is chronic sleep-deprivation the cause of such acts,
Or are seventeen wide-awake hours for crime too brief?

Today's muse: "If you don't get enough sleep per day (7+ hours), you will be more likely to cheat, lie and steal." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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

While the whiff of their own whizz might otherwise cause a tizz,
Women of Ancient Rome did not hold it in or hold their noses.
No, instead they would resign themselves to drinking turpentine,
For the sake of making their pee come out smelling like roses.

The inspiration for today's doggerel: "In Ancient Rome, women would drink turpentine to make their urine smell sweet like roses." —

NOTE: Producing one's own rose-scented whizz may not be nearly as weird as it initially seems, especially if these two other historical factoids are also taken into consideration: "Urine was used in Ancient Rome to wash clothes. The Romans also used it to whiten their teeth." —

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/18/17

Yeah, Howard has always been a smart-ass,
So no excuses or shifting of any of the blame.
As for reducing a rise in non-fatal shootings,
He said, "Teach shooters to take better aim."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/20/17

To avoid hinting that all your preceding words may have
been deceitful and underhanded,
Rather than say a potentially misleading "To be honest,…"
instead say "To be candid,…."

The inspiration for today's doggerel was a vintage BDDFTD verse that Facebook dredged up as a "memory" of mine on its third anniversary this morning.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/27/17

Our local Agatha-Christie-mystery-novel-loving amateur sleuth
Sniffed the corpse. "Smells like almonds," she said, "Cyanide!"
Later, however, the Medical Examiner stated, "The simple truth
Is the decedent aspirated an almond, then asphyxiated ‘n' died."

The moral of this story: "Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't especially after you've inadvertently sucked one down your windpipe, and there's nobody around to perform the Heimlich Maneuver on you or to call 911 on your behalf, and then sundry scenes from your life pass before your mind's eye, and suddenly you see the light but you start to freak out because of the mixed messages given in the movie Poltergeist, like 'Go into the light, Carol Anne!' and 'Don't go into the light, Carol Anne!' and then you calm down again because your final moment of Life is ebbing and, ironically after all that worry over what to do about the light, you fade to black. Oy."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/28/17

"Hey, Siri, um, did you happen to hear that sound just then?"
"No, Kevin, I did not hear your especially loud and long fart
Uh, I mean, hear what? I heard nothing but the zephyr wind."
"Smart-ass smartphone! So, that's why you're called 'smart'."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/29/17

The earliest-known vending machine dispensed holy
water in exchange for money.
Imagine, automated salvation from technology almost
old enough to be carbon-dated!
And here we are, two whole millennia later, and it strikes
me as both ironic and funny
That machines still vend water — not holy, but flavored,
sweetened, and carbonated.

Today's muse: "The first known vending machine dates back to the 1st century – You would insert a coin and it would give you holy water." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/30/17

Like electric shock, her scalp’s a-tingle from a thousand little legs
After brushing into a low-hanging tree branch bearing spider eggs.
If an egg sac entangled in your hair freaks you out then, natch,
It’s extra unfortunate to do so at the moment wee spiders hatch.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/04/17

May the fourth be with you, Reba. May your cake be free of ameba.
May you have a birthday fit for a diva or the freakin’ Queen of Sheba.
Just don’t wash your birthday suit on the roof like Biblical Bathsheba,
Or you’ll end up on the nightly news, seen on a widescreen Toshiba!

Natal Day Felicitations, Reba!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/05/17

Persistent rains turn our prairies and plains
Into something akin to a swampy ol' bayou*.
It all gives me pause and just cause to say,
"Hey, let's rename today 'Sink-O de Mayo'!"

*NOTE: While I would typically pronounce "bayou" as "bi-yoo," this morning I've gone for the "bi-oh" pronunciation that Hank Williams used in his evergreen goodtime song "Jambalaya (On The Bayou)." Get it? Hank's "bayou" rhymes with the Spanish-language "Mayo" (not to be confused with "mayo" as in "Hold the mayo."). And if you, Dear Reader, are not familiar with Hank Williams, listen to his music on YouTube or some streaming service, and maybe read his bio (not to be confused with Hank's "bayou") online. Hotcha!

And, oh yeah, have you noticed that Cinco de Mayo is always on the 5th of May, not the 4th or 6th, not April or June, but the 5th of May!? I mean, what's up with that!?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/06/17

I truly believed that Polly was my one true love. But in due time, she strayed.
Then she had a secret love affair and, thus, a classic love triangle was made.
When I discovered she had another lover, I cried, "Polly, I can't let this go on!"
She left with him. Ironically, love lost its basic-shape geometry with Polly gone.

Defined, a point has no width, length, or depth, in an otherwise pointless place.
I'm a single point now. There's no line segment to connect two points in space.
I couldn't find it glamorous to try polyamorous, so Polly split with her Don Juan.
But there's nothing equilateral, isosceles, or scalene polygonal with Polly gone.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/09/17

When revisiting vintage doggerel verses such as the one that follows below, I'm
Especially glad there's no one-eight-hundred hotline for reporting a rhyme crime.

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, 05/11/17

The old guy thinks back to when he sowed all his wild oats.
He reckons if those seeds sprouted and grew, then they were eaten by goats.
At least, that's how most of the things in his life seem to go.
A blessing or curse, for better or worse, we do not always reap what we sow.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/12/17

Similarly, if and when he becomes a septuagenarian, the ironic
twist to make the most sense
Will be if he renounces all belief in Septu, ancient Egyptian war
god of protection and defense.

Or, hey, maybe not.

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after re-reading the following quatrain of verse that Facebook reminded me I'd written five years ago today:

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

Sometimes he's amused by just how much irony
A single, quiet moment of reflection reflects.
But he has survived to become a sexagenarian,
Though it was so long ago he gave up on sex.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/13/17 - #1

When I imagine my future mind-transfer to my
powder-blue android body, I think
That, due to the new skin-tone, I’ll likely wear
more orange, lime green, and pink.

NOTE: Today's doggerel couplet was written after re-reading the note following a quatrain of verse that Facebook reminded me I'd written five years ago today:

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

Now that the Amish have finally won the international space race,
They're too humble yet to blow their own horn, so I'll give it a toot,
In praise of their handcrafted, hardwood, tallow-fueled spacecraft
And planetary rover drawn by a horse in its own patchwork spacesuit.

Note: Today's doggerel will be written in the future, precisely one hundred years from today, 2112CE, by what remains of my current essence that will at that time reside within a powder-blue android body — mostly humanoid-looking, I'm told, but also sporting some cool 1950s-style Cadillac fins and a state-of-the-art death-ray third-eye. The doggerel will commemorate actual current events. On that distant day, I will compose the rhyme and then send it wending its way back through time so that it will be (and was) transferred to my foggy, groggy noggin during that lazy, hazy phase of fuzziness somewhere between being sound asleep and wide awake, all on this Mother's Day Sunday in May, 2012CE. Imagine that!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/13/17 - #2

All of the other elephants call Wally "Ol' Stubby."
It is, by the way, a nickname he has always hated.
It dates back to that time he slipped in the tubby
And, in a freak accident, his trunk was truncated.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/14/17

Bagpipes are associated with the same culture that came up with haggis*.
A cuisine equivalent to the assault on our ears, haggis was made to gag us.

*Haggis, the national dish of Scotland, a type of pudding composed of the liver, heart, and lungs of a sheep (or other animal), minced and mixed with beef or mutton suet and oatmeal and seasoned with onion, cayenne pepper, and other spices. The mixture is packed into a sheep's stomach and boiled.” — Haggis on

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

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

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/17/17

"Doc, ICve been pollinated by flora worthy of Sodom and Gomorrah.
And I’ve been morally affronted by shameless nakedness of fauna.
My ills damn-near defy description, so now write me a prescription,
If you please, if you’re gonna, for USDA Grade-A medical marijuana.

"What? No, I’m not tryin’ to cop bliss by means of medical cannabis."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/18/17

One in four-hundred-trillion! Whoa! The odds are better by far
That you would win the lottery AND Oprah would give you a car.
But, for whatever it is worth, that is the probability of your birth.
Such odds verge on the impossible. Yet, m'Dear, here you are!

NOTE: The muse for today's doggerel: "The probability of you being born was about 1 in 400 trillion." — WTF Facts (@WTFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/20/17 - #1

Well, hell, I forgot to get something at the store yet again.
Distractions? Failing memory? Whatever, I am to blame.
If I were more disciplined, I'd write myself a list. And then,
I'd have what I want and, finally, live up to my last name.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/20/17 - #2

"Defence of Fort M'Henry" was four stanzas of verse
written by Francis Scott Key.
Then, someone set it to the tune of a British drinking
song. Thus, in this manner,
Its wide one-octave-plus-one-fifth range might best be
left to the uninhibited tipsy.
Instead of "M'Henry," the hard-to-sing song is called
"The Star-Spangled Banner."

That "one-octave-plus-one-fifth" range is not suited to the
average citizen singer.
If it were only one octave of notes plus one fifth of hooch,
it might be a humdinger.
But, as it is, the song became our national anthem during
The Great Depression.
Despite how depressed the populace was, I wish they'd not
made that concession.

Only nine years later, a song was written before the beginning
of World War Two
That said, "This land is your land. This land in my land." — as
American as me ‘n' you.
It may not rise to pomp and circumstance, but it's something
almost anyone can sing.
And a Woody Guthrie folk tune beats any pub tune from a land
then-ruled by a king.

Before my proposal that "This Land Is Your Land" be our anthem
puts you into a funk,
Know that the song celebrates America …and you can easily sing
it when you're drunk.

NOTE: Today's second installment of doggerel is first draft. Typically, that wouldn't be notable because nearly every bit of verse posted here is done so in its first-draft form. Oven-fresh, baked daily. It's just that today's second attempt at rhyme feels a little more first-drafty to me than usual. Sorry.

In "This Land Is Your Land," besides extolling the grand and varied natural features and resources of our homeland, Woody Guthrie also included some verses that commented (with sly and dry wit) on systems that impinge on freedom in America. This verse about a "big wall" seems particularly timely:

There was a big high wall there that tried to stop me.
Sign was painted, it said, "Private Property."
But on the back side, it didn't say nothing.
This land was made for you and me.

Or this variant:

As I went walking, I saw a sign there.
And on the sign, it said, "No Trespassing."
But on the other side, it didn't say nothing.
That side was made for you and me.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/20/17 - #3

Women assess eighty percent of all men to be "below-average looking."
I can accept that assessment of me to be valid. Still, on all men's behalf,
When below-average is thirty points above "mean," that's book-cooking!
Instead of looking at men, those women might look into books about Math.

The muse for today's third installment of doggerel: "Women find about 80% of men below-average looking." — WTF Facts (@WTFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/21/17

Okay, so you are lying in bed and thinking about Scarlett
Johansson, as you sometimes do,
When you suddenly wonder whether she has a sib and if
that sib is named after a color, too.
Is there a Magenta? Mauve? Maybe a Baby Johansson,
with a name too twee for an adult?
"Baby?" you ask. Well, when "Babyshit Yellow" is your color
name, "Baby" is the best default.

PS: Just in case you’re curious, Scarlett Johansson has an older sister, an older brother, a twin brother, and an older half-brother from her father’s first marriage. Apparently, none of Johansson’s siblings is named after a color. And that, as they say, is that. So there! — Source of info: Scarlett Johansson page on Wikipedia

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/22/17

A balding eagle looks into the mirror and, "Yes,"
He says, "I guess I should have always known
I inherited a genetic predisposition for baldness
And for producing an excess of testosterone."

A balding eagle looks into the mirror and, ''Yes,'' he says, ''I guess I should have known….''

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after re-reading some verse that Facebook reminded me of having composed five-years-ago today:

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/22/12

I tranq bald eagles with downer-darts for the Indiana D.N.R.
I note sex, age, health, wingspan, and whatever they weigh.
Before they are freed, I need to apply ID-bands to their legs.
And then, to each bald eagle head, I glue a wig or a toupee.

Often I think to myself, "Ah, it must surely stick in one's craw
Or stick in another birdy innard part, like, perhaps, the gullet,
To catch one's own reflection when swooping to catch a fish
And see a once-regal bald eagle now forced to wear a mullet."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/23/17

Baby, you do not need to strut your stuff when you walk my way.
Perambulate with some sense of self-confidence and it'll be okay.
And you don't need to parade, promenade, cakewalk, or sashay.
But if you've enough pep for a spring in your step, it will be okay.

NOTE: While driving to the TV station this morning, I heard an old Rock 'N' Roll song on the radio that contained the phrase "strut your stuff" in its lyrics. When I arrived at my destination, today's doggerel spontaneously presented itself to me. So, hey, I wrote it down.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/24/17

If you think human relationships are complicated, I bet you've never seen
Any reproductive educational films or pornography of the Blaxxon Bleen.
While we've two sexes, they've six! If you're wondering, "How's that work?"
Well, the closest human analog would be part clusterfuck, part circle jerk.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/27/17

With tar and feathers and pitchforks and torches,
In their little town streets, from their front porches,
A mob of local yokel folk’ll be chanting in chorus,
“Them gays ‘r’ okay, but NO showbiz folk for us!”

When situation’s real and fear’s a genuine factor,
It’s hard to act cool, even for a professional actor.

Or, hey, maybe not.

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after re-reading the following quatrain of verse that Facebook reminded me I'd written three years ago today:

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/27/14

Oh, so you two ladies are both lesbians.
The local folk'll be glad to have that clear.
It'd been rumored that you're thespians,
'N' we don't much cotton to that kind here.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/31/17

"Your Honor," he said, "My exposing my naughty parts in a public park
Was not done for exhibitionistic reasons or for perverse prurient intent.
No, instead it was an innocent homeopathic remedy intended to spark
Natural testosterone production by as much as two-hundred percent."

The muse for today's doggerel: "Exposing a man's genitals to sunlight can cause his testosterone level to rise by 200%." — Facts In Your Face (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/03/17

One would expect that, at my age, I should have a clear
sense of who and what and where I am.
But reconciliation of relativistic and quantum perspectives
might mean the Universe is a hologram.
And if everything is much flatter than it seems, at least
according to theory and proofs mathematic,
Then I must be an unwitting victim of such flattery, being
less three-dimensional, more holographic.

The muse for today's doggerel was one of various articles I've read in the past year or so regarding the potentiality for a holographic Universe: "Do We Live In A Hologram? It's More Likely Than You Might Think." — Eric Mack, Forbes

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/04/17
(Modern English, written in a right-to-left, no-vowels,
no-spaces, Old Testament format)


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/04/17
(Modern English, written in left-to-right, with vowels
and spaces, normal doggerel format)

Reading left-to-right, right-to-left, or up-to-down is cultural. But
written language without a vowel?
Besides vowel-free right-to-leftness, Standard Biblical Hebrew
would make me throw in the towel.
Having to parse each word and phrase and sentence from a
randomly-broken character chain,
Much like masturbation in Medieval Europe, might be expected
to make one blind and insane.
The extra effort required for reading scripture might impinge on
one’s visual and mental health,
Such that a mystical metaphysical system such as Kabbalah
could spontaneously create itself.

*PS: Please excuse any typographical errors in the backward all-consonants version of today's doggerel, if they exist. I tried my best while transcribing, but this experiment kinda hurt my head too much to attempt proofreading the translation.

Also, I’m reminded of a comedy bit I saw on short-lived "The Roger Miller Show" (NBC-TV, September 12 to December 26, 1966). Singer-songwriter and our TV host, Roger Miller, began speaking a string of obviously-fake, quasi-Spanish-sounding gibberish. Then, in English, he said something like, "I don’t let total ignorance stop me from speaking a language." I was a kid, but I got the joke. Anyway, it is in that same vein that I have approached the writing of today’s doggerel, not letting my most superficial, almost-totally-ignorant understanding of Standard Biblical Hebrew formatting and/or the Kabbalah get in the way of spouting off about them. So there!

The motivation for today’s verse? Well, while I was still in bed this morning, in that foggy-groggy phase between being sound asleep and wide awake, I wondered what some lines of verse would look like written backwards and without the vowels and spaces. Why? I haven’t a clue. But my muddled mind started composing some verse required for conducting the experiment. Oy. So, I got out of bed, turned on the computer, and started the project. Sorry.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/05/17 - #1

Way back when everything seen on a TV screen was only
black ‘n’ white ‘n’ several shades of gray,
There were commercials for an over-the-counter remedy to
treat maladies not ever mentioned today.
Unlike those old Anacin™ ads, no new nostrum is explicitly
marketed to treat "neuritis and neuralgia."
Don’t those same pains yet remain? Or, were they cured and
I have neuritis and neuralgia nostalgia?"

To view just one example of the old TV ads referenced in today's doggerel, check out this Vintage Anacin Pain Reliever Commercial on YouTube.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/05/17 - #2

Put your best foot forward! Go for it! Have a great attitude!
Carpe Diem! And (blah-blah any other affirmative platitude)!
But if it’s positive thinking that puts you into an odious mood,
I hope wishing you “Meh, whatever.” earns earnest gratitude.

The muse for the second installment of today's doggerel is: "Thinking positively is actually harmful for some people and can lead to depression and anxiety." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/09/17

After turning off my computer, IOT TV, and bedroom light,
A yellow-green LED on the modem kept flashing last night.
No big deal, my iPhone likely was updating apps via Wi-Fi.
Then in LED-dotted darkness, flashing on the ceiling! Why?
A lightning bug was inside! It blinked its path to the modem,
Which, I’d guess, he took to be a female trying to goad him
Into joining her for sex. He didn’t get laid, as he was thinking.
But he wasn’t eaten, the alt default goal of bug butt-blinking.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/10/17

Lying in bed this morning, in that groggy-foggy lazy-hazy
phase between sound asleep and wide awake,
I could've been reported by the casual observer as "not
moving at all," but such news would've been fake.
In my fuzzy-thinking thoughts, it occurred to me that, if at
the equator the Earth spins around at the rate
Of a thousand-plus miles per hour, then, even here near
the forty-north latitude, my motion is not sedate.

It's all relative, but before calling my moving eastward at
almost eight hundred M.P.H. "not moving at all,"
Consider that I am also moving sixty-six thousand miles
per hour while the planet circles around old Sol.
And Sol, our sun, is dragging Earth ‘round the galaxy at
just under a half-million miles per hour. Then, too,
The galaxy is cruising through the Cosmic Background
Radiation at one-point-three million M.P.H. Whew!

So, this morning if someone had said, "Get your lazy ass
outta bed and move!" I'd have data to resist ‘em.
And all the numbers would sound one-point-six times greater
still, if I expressed ‘em in the metric system.

PS: While still in bed, I had the numbers for the first verse already in my head. But then, I had to get up and go online to find the other data. I used the standard Win10 calculator and some online conversion calculators for any aftermarket math. The main source for today's doggerel data was mined from this very unassuming webpage:

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/11/17 - #1

Anna was given some left-over ED meds from a recently-widowed friend.
Anna had not had sex in too long a time, a problem she meant to amend.
A blue pill ground into powder, in a secret-compartment ring found online,
Anna felt like a movie femme fatale spy as she spiked her husband's wine.

Now Anna glows way too much to feel guilty when she awakens at dawn.
Her man has yet to link his lust to the nights Anna has her cocktail ring on.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/11/17 - #2

A drugstore cowboy is "one who wears cowboy clothes but
has had no experience as a cowboy."*
Back in the ‘Fifties, my dad and his fellow Country & Western
music bandmates dressed in cowboy drag.
A drugstore robot is not necessarily a physical automaton, or
even someone who dresses up as one. Oy.
"Drugstore robot" is the voice of pharmacy robo-calls, saying
my meds are ready, come pick up the bag.

* Definition according to Merriam-Webster: *

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/11/17 - #3

The bacteria in my gut, which is essential to
digestion, will turn on me after I die.
"Hey," they may say, "he is not eating to feed
us anymore, so let us eat this guy!"
No fear of me taking meds or measures to curb
their consumption ‘n' propagation,
They may party hearty, never suspecting the
forthcoming cremation conflagration.

The muse for today's third installment of doggerel is this factoid: " The bacteria that is currently in your gut, which helps you digest food, will eat your body after you die.” — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/11/17 - #4

Who has what rare condition that causes her fifty
or more spontaneous orgasms a day?
Well, "some woman in Alabama with Persistent
Genital Arousal Disorder" is the answer.
Hopefully, she doesn't have to have a cigarette after
each, 'cause um, cum what may,
That is two-and-a-half-packs-a-day, likely leading
to poverty, emphysema, and cancer.

The muse for today's fourth installment of doggerel is this factoid: " A woman in Alabama has a condition called persistent genital arousal disorder which causes her to have 50+ orgasms a day.” — Facts In Your Face (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/14/17

Artificial Intelligence, or AI, could ultimately evolve capabilities
beyond what anyone currently expects.
Artificial Emotions, however, might remain minimal, comparable
to those that were evident in your Ex.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/15/17

Puzzled, she asked, "Well, what brought about that whim?"
With a gleam in his eye and a grin, he claimed, "Whimsy!"
While she often found excuses for his behavior to be slim,
She could not fault the logic of whimsy-to-whim as flimsy.

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

Sometimes an image, a song, or a movie scene reminds him of his youth.
It's as if he has a vague recollection of some life experience, when, in truth,
His nostalgic so-called "way it was" was more accurately the way it wasn't,
And his fuzzy sense of reminiscence makes the sort of sense that doesn't,
Because the false remembrances of his younger self are derived, variously,
From other people's images, songs, movies, and lives he lived vicariously.

It's other folks' visions, dreams, words, memes, and lives lived vicariously.

PS: I had planned to sleep in, but when I awoke early this morning I discovered that at least half of today's doggerel already had been written — in my sleep, in my head, in my bed. The theme was there, all the rhyme-pairs had been selected, and some of the lines were near completion. I only had to get up and finish the project.

My muse? I haven't a clue. But maybe it's only what ought to be expected after staying awake into the wee hours, watching wacky serialized subtitled anime with its original Greek-to-me Japanese soundtrack, which, at critical moments in the action, has Japanese-accented English words thrown into the dialogue. For example, when Momoko, our heroine of Sumomomo Momomo, is launching a special martial arts counterattack against another of many wannabe assassins targeting the guy she loves, protects, and intends to marry, Momoka may yell, "Shout Bazooka Strike!" At those moments, though, a full screen of Japanese text momentarily replaces the action to write the translated equivalent of, say, "Shout Bazooka Strike!" Or, so I am led to assume from the English subtitle and voice-over narrative for that particular text screen.

I know. WTF, right?

And blah, de-blah, blah, blah. I should just go back to bed now. TTFN.

PPS: Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, I didn't wake up this morning with false memories of having been a petite, hyperactive, hyperemotional, incredibly strong, and dragon-avatar-generating Japanese girl in my distant youth. Today's doggerel and the aforementioned anime don't have that connection, if any, other than for these ramblings here. So there!

Sumomomo Momomo: The Strongest Bride On Earth

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/19/17 - #1

All people literally have, and some people figuratively are, a-holes.
And most stringed musical instruments in orchestras have f-holes.
So now, I am wondering what cabal or cartel hoards and controls
Access to, even awareness of, all things with b-, c-, d-, or e-holes.

NOTE: The vintage 1960s-era photo below is of some guys, ostensibly in a Rock and/or Roll band. The two young men on the left and right sides of the picture are holding Epiphone brand, Casino model, electric guitars. These, like many archtop hollow-body and semi-hollow body electric guitars, have f-holes. (No text was included with the photo to indicate whether the would-be guitarists [and bass player, with an f-hole-free Hofner violin bass] ever learned to turn their instruments to an approximate 90-degrees/horizontal position so as to play them properly. But, sadly, given their apparent lack of understanding a most basic and fundamental aspect of musicianship [i.e., holding an instrument in a playable position], it is doubtful that this wannabe band ever found any success in attaining their youthful dreams and aspirations of fame and fortune as musical artists. […Sigh…] But so it goes. A kind and caring person might have spared them soul-crushing disappointment early-on by simply whispering a few words of wisdom, something like, "Let it be.")

The Beatles with Upside-Down Guitars

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/19/17 - #2

A recent discovery from an ocean abyss off the coast of Australia
Is Sipuncula, or "peanut worm," the sight of which ought not fail t'
Remind you of a human penis. Why, I bet Lorena formerly-Bobbitt
Would end one's life with a knife, take it for a drive, 'n' then lob it!

The muse for today's second doggerel verse was the photo and linked article posted with this tweet: "This is an animal, not a penis." — Gizmodo (@Gizmodo on Twitter)

Sipuncula, The Peanut Worm

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/19/17 - #3

I just read this fascinating factoid tweet, "A duck's quack
doesn't echo, and no one knows why."
I say, "Slap a reverb VST plug-in on the DAW's quack track,
then adjust between Wet and Dry.

The muse for today's third verse of doggerel was this tweet, included verbatim above: "A duck's quack doesn't echo, and no one knows why." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/20/17

One of Life's baffling mysteries is the spelling anomaly
That, every time I see it, I say to myself, "Man, oh, man!
Why in the world would there be a misdirecting silent-E
In the state of Washington city place name of Spokane?"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/21/17

Though it may sound gross or even nuts,
Condoms once were made from pig guts.
No, really! It's a historical fact, not fiction
. And it makes me wonder whether friction
Caused during the act of hot love-makin'
Made lovers ask, "Do you smell bacon?"

The muse for today's verse: "In 1640, condoms were made out of pig intestines." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/22/17

Having read the Wikipedia "Mojo" pronunciation guide,
I am puzzled, such that now it is my considered belief
The "/ˈmoʊdʒoʊ/" looks so much like "moo-joo" that I’d
Imagine the noun should be a reference to Kosher beef.

This morning, Facebook reminded me of the doggerel verse I posted three years ago today. The muse for today's verse was the pronunciation guide from the Wikipedia page I had linked with that three-year-old doggerel: Mojo (African-American Culture). So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/23/17

We use paper when we blow our noses.
We use paper when we wipe our butts*.
The often-overlooked good news:
The facial and toilet tissue we use
Is NOT the kind to cause us paper cuts.

*Of course, this generalization is not meant to include those who still use the butt-wiping method dating back to Ancient Rome, in which a shared sponge-on-the-end-of-a-stick was available for use by all depositors in unpartitioned multi-seated public toilet facilities. Nor is the second line of today's verse intended to be representative of those who use the old Americana corncob method of heinie hygiene, wiping with two red corncobs (one after the other, not two at a time, fer chrissake), and then wiping with a white corncob to see if the job is done to satisfaction or if, instead, more red corncobs are called for. To the aforementioned and to any other offended paperless ass-wipers, heartfelt apologies from the management and staff here at Brother Dave's Doggerel Sweatshop And Second-Hand Hubcap Emporium LLC. Sorry!

Roman Plumbing: Overrated

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/24/17

Once upon a time, rather than appreciate our general tendency
To be intelligent and creative, people would run away screamin',
To hide, or to get pitchforks and torches to purge our sinistrality,
Because every left-handed person was believed to be a demon.

NOTE: Me? I'm left-handed mostly. Today's doggerel was inspired by being reminded by Facebook this morning of a verse I had written four years ago today (see below), and by having recently read this tweet on Twitter: "Left-handedness is also known as "sinistrality" because left-handed people were once thought to be demons." — What The F*** Facts‏ (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/24/13 #1

When the old priest began performing ancient exorcism rituals,
The demons he sought to cast out soon discovered a fatal flaw.
So the possessed had no choice when they said with her voice,
"Well, hell no, we won’t go! Possession’s nine-tenths of the law."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/24/17 - #2

The Fibonacci Sequence underlies the natural
structure of many things. These
Range from some microscopic single-celled
plants and animals to entire galaxies.
But what I once saw as elegance and beauty
in Nature, now makes me a grump,
After seeing a photo with the Fibonacci Spiral
superimposed on Trump's fat rump.

Curving out of the asshole of an asshole:
A Fibonacci Spiral on Trump's fat rump.

NOTE: The muse for today's second doggerel verse was provided by a glance at the following photo posted by Lydia Burrell, appearing in my Twitter feed after having been retweeted by author William Gibson:

The Fibonacci Spiral Superimposed On Trump's Fat Rump

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/25/17 - #1

I was born a blond and remained one until I was
ten, then my hair turned brown.
The first stray gray hairs came 'round when I was
twenty. And now there's white.
It's the same color-transition pattern Dad had, so I
have no reason to put it down.
Better that over time than be like folks so frightened
their hair whitens overnight.

(Of course, with male-pattern balding and a buzz-cut,
there's not much hair there.)

Larry, 10 months. And BD, 2-1/2 years

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I wrote and posted a quatrain of verse on Facebook as a "Comment" commemorating a couple's fortieth wedding anniversary. Even though the words are much too sentimental, even embarrassingly so, I thought I might still risk exposing my vulnerable soft-'n'-gooey center by re-posting the verse here because 1.) I really am just a hopeless romantic, so I might as well own that in a public forum, and 2.) Maybe some agent for Hallmark will read my rhyme and, after wiping away the stream of free-flowing tears inspired by the pathos that infuses my work, he or she will seek me out and offer me a fortune for these few words that delve so deeply, yet tenderly, into the human condition, to share the verse with all the (greeting-card-buying) world.

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/25/17 - #2

It is truly impressive, of course,
Whenever the groom and bride
Can go 40 years without divorce
Or, better still, without homicide.

Got Cheese? Accept No Substitues!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/26/17 - #1

I am not known to be unctuous, ingratiating, effusive, or fawning, okay?
If after our next encounter, you think to yourself as I am walking away,
"Well, he seemed to be uncharacteristically cloying. Was it all pretend?"
I'd likely had a sugar-free soda and was, thereby, artificially sweetened.

After every Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero® I consume, I cannot help but think,
"My color of skin and shape I'm in, ‘You are what you eat and drink!'"

Coca-Cola Vanilla Zero

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/26/17 - #2

Once upon a time for a game of tug-o'-war, ancient Norse mythology recalls
That trickster god, Loki, tied rope to a goat and the other end to his scrotum.
While such an act required little brains at all, it undeniably took some balls,
Literally. Balls so big, metaphorically, he'd need a wheelbarrow to tote 'em.

Or, if the act stretched his sack, never to snap back an ox cart to tote 'em.

NOTE: Today's second doggerel verse was inspired by this tweet on Twitter: "In Norse mythology, Loki tied one end of a rope to a goat and the other end around his testicle and began a game of tug of war." — WTF Facts‏ (@WTFFacts‏ on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 06/29/17

When reading song lyrics, classical poetry, or other verse,
Does this unconventional gimmick augment or diminish it:
Lines build for an obvious rhyme, then, for better or worse,
The writer, for whatever reason, chooses not to finish ?

Or, how about other examples in otherwise rhyming verse
Wherein words in an idiom become a source of confusion,
Do you feel a sudden undeniable urge to applaud or curse,
When anticipated rhyme is diverted from its foregone end?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/01/17 - #1

Ed once was so thoroughly, incredibly, embarrassingly empty-headed.
Seeking even a minimal framework of knowledge never was his quest.
"Was empty-headed? So, now he's learning?" you ask. No, instead Ed
Found a pair of swallows had entered through his ears and built a nest.

These American Cliff Swallows ought to be in Capistrano, fer chrissake.
While Ed has noticed there are far less skeeters and gnats that pester,
The incessant chirp-chirp-chirping of hungry hatchlings keeps Ed awake.
If Ed had even half a brain, he'd look forward to being an empty-nester.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/01/17 - #2

Well, someone crunched the numbers and when the crunching was done,
The odds of your ever having been born were four-hundred-trillion to one!
Your odds are far better for winning the lotto AND Oprah giving you a car.
Four-hundred-trillion to one verges on impossible! And yet, here you are!

A Confession: While today's second installment of doggerel may be derivative, based on a quatrain of verse I wrote a month-and-a-half ago, I think I like today's version better than the original: Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 05/18/17.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/02/17

I stayed awake into the wee hours, watching
English-dubbed Japanese anime movies.
I went to bed 'round a quarter-to-five.
I turned off the TV, turned off the light, lay down,
turned on my side, closed my eyes,
And thought, "It's good to still be alive."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/03/17

I just now watched "Kubo And The Two Strings" for the second time,
And I'd forgotten how the Moon King had stolen one of Kubo's eyes
When the boy was only a baby. Besides "Yuck!" ‘n' "What the fuck!?"
I thought how I recently read "human infant eyes are nearly full-size."

NOTE: What really blew my mind, though, was, after thinking to myself more than once that the computer animation was amazing in how the animators brought so much subtlety and nuance to facial expressions at times, then early in the end credits a time-lapse clip reveals that the film was created using real-world 3D articulated models and traditional stop-motion animation techniques. Whoa! Kubo And The Two Strings righfully earned its two Oscar nominations.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/07/17

"Bird seed" is a misnomer, so you cannot trust those words.
Plant and water all you will, still you will not grow any birds.

This bird did NOT
 sprout and grow from 
that pile of so-called ''bird seed,'' so don’t 
be bamboozled by 
false advertizing!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/08/17 - #1

Whenever people say they will be with you "in a jiffy"
After you've called out so seductively and beckoned,
Expect their commitment to literal jiffy-ness to be iffy.
A jiffy, as a unit of time, is one hundredth of a second.

The muse for today's first doggerel verse was this factoid that popped up in my newsfeed on Twitter this morning: "The saying 'I will be there in a jiffy' is actually inspired from an actual unit of time, a 'jiffy', which is 1/100th of a second!" — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/08/17 - #2

When I awoke this morning, I had the voice of TV actor
Jack Webb in my head.
It was a classic "Dragnet" Detective Sergeant Joe Friday
voice-over, but instead
Of police blotter details of some "This is the city" L.A.
crime, what he had to say
Was from a song: "It was the third of June, another sleepy,
dusty Delta day…."

If I'd stayed in bed and gone back to sleep,… But I didn't and
learned my lesson
That, when one does not finish his dream, the likely conclusion
is up for guessin'.
So, I guessed Friday was on a fishing trip in Mississippi when,
as he later testified,
"I witnessed Billie Joe McAllister fall from Tallahatchie Bridge,
an apparent suicide."

Sergeant Friday would have learned that one Roberta Lee
"Bobbie Gentry" Streeter
Was recently seen on the bridge with the decedent, so he'd
schedule to meet her.
She and Billie Joe had thrown something off the bridge, but
what, she would not say.
A charge of littering likely would not stick, so Joe left the chick
and flew back to L.A.

Jack Webb's introductory voice-over told us, "The story you are
about to see is true.
Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent."
This closing must do:
"Ms. Bobbie Gentry made a hit song from some tragic Southern
Gothic upheavals,
Taking top spot on the Billboard album charts from Sgt. Pepper's
by The Beatles."

Imagining how my waking dream should have ended, by informed
Hands with an iron stamp and hammer would coin "A Mark VII
Limited Production."

* The last line in the first verse of today's doggerel quotes the opening line from the song "Ode To Billie Joe," a #1 hit single in July, 1967, written and recorded by Bobbie Gentry (aka Roberta Lee Streeter).

The following are from the "Dragnet" radio-series-turned-TV-series, that starred Jack Webb, actor/writer/producer/director: The character Sergeant Detective Joe Friday, the phrase "This is the city," and the introductory narrative "The story you are about to see is true. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent." And that is, as Sergeant Friday might himself say, "Just the facts, ma'am, just the facts."

PS: In doing the little bit of research for these end credits, I see that it was half-a-century-ago this month when Ms. Gentry's recording of "Ode To Billie Joe" was released. How 'bout that!? Where does the time go? I mean, for you and me, of course. For Billie Joe McAllister, time is irrelevant, bless his heart.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/10/17

So, you know how our collective awareness of some well-
known celebrity or politico fades
From general public consciousness, radio, TV, Internet,
newspapers, tabloids, and trades.
And then, perhaps after several years have passed, you
read or you hear something said
About a forgotten celeb doing this or that, and you think,
"I thought he (or she) was dead!"
Well, I've been experiencing a similar sort of surprise —
foggy at first, now getting clearer.
But instead of some celebrity, the "I thought he" occurs
to me when I look in the mirror.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/11/17 - #1

The Blaxxon-Bleen starship captain can barely manage to suppress
His excitement to be leaving Earth orbit and for warpdrive to kick in.
Yes, he's eager to report his diplomatic mission to be a big success
And, even more so, to report that humans taste like Blaxxon chicken.

A lost-in-a-daydream gaze glazes over his six greedy beady black eyes,
Imagining wealth as CEO of a galactic Blaxxon Fried Human® franchise.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/11/17 - #2

I just saw a tweet from the official account of the
Merriam-Webster dictionary folk.
It says the current top five lookups are: "collusion,
treason, collude, quid pro quo"
And one I didn't know, "kakistocracy," which I'd
guess to be a punchline to a joke.
I looked that one up. It's "government by the worst
people." And now you, too, know.

My guessing "kakistocracy" is a punchline? 'Stead
of laugh, you might wanna cuss,
'Cause there's a joke in there somewhere, but it is
not funny and that joke is on us.

PS: That "government by the worst people" definition provided by the online version of Merriam-Webster is rather pithy. This Wikipedia definition is a little more qualified: "A kakistocracy (English pronunciation: /kækɪsˈtɑkɹəsi/) is a state or country run by the worst, least qualified, or most unscrupulous citizens. The word was coined as early as 1600s."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/13/17

Regarding onomatopoeia, you might expect to see more consistency
than you really do.
Animal sounds, in particular, ought to transcend translation barriers.
But still, a cat's mew
Varies among various languages. There's miav, miauw, miau, miaou
and, yes, miyau too,
Plus nyan nyan, nyaa nyaa, mjan mjan, and miyav. Cats only meow
in English and Urdu.

PS: For catcalls and other animal emissions in the aural spectrum as interprested by various human languages, check out this Animal Sounds spreadsheet.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/15/17

The ice cream truck just drove by again, with its
eight-bit chiptune speakers blaring
A too-cheery version of a song in the public domain
and, thus, free for the sharing.
Do kids today recognize the tune of this particular
Stephen Foster minstrel song?
If so, and even if they know the words, would it be
socially-acceptable to sing along?

"Old Folks At Home," a.k.a. "Swanee River," was
written right before the Civil War.
It's from a slave's POV, with fond memories of
plantation life he's now nostalgic for.
I bend the bridge: "All de world am sad and dreary,
eb'rywhere, or so it may seem.
Oh, darkeys, how my heart grows weary, gettin' ol'
folks t' buy youngins ice cream!"

Nope, still not right. Romanticizing slavery only
entertains the master/owner race.
And so it goes that minstrel shows were generally
white men made-up in blackface.
"All up and down de whole creation, sadly I roam"
implies the narrator is now free.
But "longin' for de old plantation ‘n' for de old folks
at home" implies he'd rather not be.

Foster wrote several Great American Songbook
. If they weren't all P.D.,
And if Foster were alive today, he would have
brand-name fame and be financially free.
He'd rewrite any offending lyrics for his timeless,
popular tunes. That's how I'd call it.
He wouldn't end up naked, alone, bleeding to death,
with only three cents in his wallet.

And now I imagine hearing resurrected Stephen Foster singing:

"Oh! Susanna, I dream of Jeanie and my old KY
home in my Beautiful Dreamer dream.
And I have a dream of a do-dah day when I'll collect
royalties from vendors of ice cream."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/16/17

Pronouncing Uranus as "Your Anus" makes astrophysicists glower.
They prefer the pronunciation "Urine Us," as in a "golden shower."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/17/17 - #1

Two Lines Cut From The Very First Episode Of "Doctor Who" ("An Unearthly Child," November 23, 1963) Because They Were Deemed By BBC Programme Management To Be Too Depressing In The Aftermath Of The Assassination Of U.S. President Kennedy The Previous Day

THE DOCTOR (to granddaughter SUSAN):

"Okay, so 'Button, Button, Who's Got The Button?' is an old-fashion
parlor game that future generations of children may never know.
It would be boring as a video game, and buttons will be replaced by
auto-snapping snaps, hipper zippers, and self-sealing Velcro®."

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after rereading the "cute as a button" idiom in a quatrain of verse that Facebook reminded me of having composed and posted three years ago today. Then, after I had written this new couplet, I thought, "What the hell is this? I mean, really, what the hell is this?" It needed some sort of context, preferably one in the past, projecting beyond our present and into the future. So, I imagined the doggerel to be lines of dialog stricken from an old TV show script. The original Doctor Who episode name and air date are real. That the episode aired the day following the death of JFK is real. But the claim that the couplet of verse is, what, closing in on fifty-four years old now, well, that is fake news. Bullshit, fake news, whatever. Hey, it's what I sometimes do. If ever I'm offered a lucrative position as a so-called "journalist" — either as on-air talent, or as a behind-the-scenes propaganda writer (I'm told I've a face that's perfect for radio.) — in the Fox News infotainment machine, you'll know why.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/17/17 - #2

I got totally messed up after snorting 'bout a quarter-kilo of cocoa.
Then, I went on to do several lines of pure granulated cane sugar.
Whoa! My mind was kinda like The Beatles after John met Yoko:
A four-way split! 'N' holy shit, I sneezed a chocolate sugar booger!

Rolling Stone - ''Snortable Chocolate: What You Need To Know About Coco Loko''

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 07/19/17

Bob Marley shot the sheriff, ending Andy Taylor's life.
But Bob did not shoot the deputy, sparing Barney Fife.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/01/17

During a thirty-second soundbite on the radio,
a chef duplicated the verb "do" twice.
I can't quote him verbatim now, but an example
is "We do do that for local cuisine."
Whoa! Why risk sounding like you're saying "doo-
doo" when a single "do" will suffice?
Wash hands after doo-doo breaks, Chef. But say
"doo-doo," then gargle Listerine®.

NOTE: Please, do NOT misconstrue today;s doggerel to be some sort of compensated endorsement of Listerine® and/or a blatant and crass case of product placement …at least not unless and until an agent of the McNeil Consumer Healthcare division of Johnson & Johnson offers me a boodle of under-the-table cash to whore myself out for, say, a very lucrative rebranding of our doggerel fabrication outlet to "Brother Dave Lister;s Listerine® Doggerel For The Day." In the immortal words of Col. B.D. Lister (b. April 17, 1864; d. October 29, 1929), our esteemed founder of Brother Dave;s Doggerel Sweatshop And Used Hubcap Emporium LLC: "Literary prostitution? Hell yes, we do do that! I mean, hey, it's only doggerel, fer chrissake."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/04/17

Whenever I see brand new factory-torn jeans, I never fail
To think I’d only want an extra rip if I had a prehensile tail.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/06/17


He was born over in Norfolk, England in Eighteen-Twenty-Nine.
When his family moved to America, he was age two at the time.
Who knew that bright-eyed toddler who was jolly, kind, smart,
And known as Charlie Boles would one day become Black Bart?

Charlie was only age twenty when the California Gold Rush hit.
He rode three-thousand miles on horseback to claim a piece of it.
But when Charlie's fortune didn't pan out after two years or so,
He went back home, then went back West to give it another go.

A busted Forty-Niner in Eighteen-Fifty-Four, Charlie once more
Headed back to Upstate New York, near Lake Ontario's shore.
Still nine hundred miles from his home, though, to Charlie's joy,
He met and married Mary Johnson and sired four kids in Illinois.

In 'Sixty-Two for the Civil War, Brit-born Charlie joined as a Yankee,
Enlisting in the Hundred-Sixteenth Illinois Regiment, Company B.
Charlie Boles was a model soldier – a grunt, then sergeant, then LT:
Seriously wounded in Vicksburg; marched with Sherman to the sea.

War was won, May of 'Sixty-Five. Charlie was discharged in June.
Unlike his fallen comrades and foes, he returned home. But soon,
Wanderlust and glittering dreams of nuggets and gold dust beckoned.
Forget California, he'd strike it rich in Montana or Idaho, he reckoned.

August 'Seventy-One, four more years away from his kids and wife,
He wrote one last letter home, after which Mary assumed he lost his life.
Charlie had written of an altercation with some agents of Wells Fargo,
And he swore vengeance, but did not say how far he was willing to go.

From July of Eighteen-Seventy-Five to November of 'Eighty-Three
Was the span of Charlie's Wells Fargo stagecoach-robbing spree.
At least twenty-eight holdups to his nom de plume in the poetic art.
You see, he left original doggerel at some heists, signed "Black Bart."

"I've labored long and hard for bread,
For honor, and for riches,
But on my corns too long you've tread,
You fine-haired sons of bitches."
— Black Bart, 1877

Black Bart became a romantic Wild West folk hero to fellow countrymen.
He was a gentleman bandit who was courteous and well-spoken when
He asked for the strongbox, pointing a shotgun though he never fired it.
As if demeanor and wit weren't enough for fans, doggerel also inspired it.

"Here I lay me down to sleep
To wait the coming morrow,
Perhaps success, perhaps defeat,
And everlasting sorrow.
Let come what will, I'll try it on,
My condition can't be worse;
And if there's money in that box
'Tis munny [sic?] in my purse."
— Black Bart, 1878

Yes, twenty-eight holdups in Northern California and in Southern Oregon.
Though Wells Fargo detectives had tracked Charlie for years, only one
Robbery was prosecuted when he was caught, tried, sentenced, and sent in
To do four years of a six year stretch in a Johnny Cash-less San Quentin.

Charlie "Black Bart" Boles never returned to family in The Great Midwest.
His post-prison whereabouts were known for a while, but then it's guessed
He slipped away to do some more prospecting, or lived anonymously in NYC,
Or was paid by Wells Fargo and Company to further refrain from robbery.

It's the Twenty-First Century now. That Nineteenth Century bandit is gone.
From among this ballad's named entities, it's only Wells Fargo that lives on.
Stealing millions from customers, it's now Wells Fargo committing the crimes,
With fake accounts and unnecessary insurance, but never leaving any rhymes.

The scale of magnitude 'twixt Black Bart's holdups and Wells Fargo's crimes
Would likely boggle Charlie's mind. And at least Charlie left us some rhymes.

# # #

The main reference for today's doggerel:

The two blocks of verse (with the shorter lines) are, as attributed, rhymes written by Charles "Black Bart" Boles. I added the bracketed-sic [sic?] after the word "munny" at first thinking it was a misspelling of the word "money." But then, I added the question mark because I thought that, rather than "munny" being misspelled, perhaps it could be a word with which I'm unfamiliar, maybe an allusion to some word or line of text from antiquity. I just had some doubt about a common word being carelessly misspelled when it had been spelled correctly in the preceding line with only four other words intervening. Now I'm hoping that Boles' "munny" was actually a clever reference or pun that I will yet find the meaning of and appreciate with relish in the near future.

Charles ''Black Bart'' Boles

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

While having sex, she used to fantasize that he
was someone else. And she never knew
That while he was having sex with her, he used to
fantasize he was someone else, too.

PS: Don't imagine, even for a moment, that it was anything other than laziness that caused the delay in posting the above couplet. This doggerel is a work of fiction. Characters and events are either the products of the author's imagination, or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead …or me, or to actual events, is purely coincidental. So, any presumption that posting of the verse was delayed due to careful consideration of the potential for public embarrassment and inescapable humiliation, well, that would be incorrect and wholly without merit. No, really! It's just doggerel, fer chrissake, with the clichéd rhyme-pair of "knew/too," fer chrissake. Really! Jeez.

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

The Lone Ranger posed a metaphysical question to his trusty
mount, "Silver, ‘Life is an illusion'
Or, instead, as the French philosopher said, ‘I think, therefore
I am.' Which view do you endorse?"
The virtual or real steed stamped a hoof three times, shook his
mane, and snorted his confusion.
"Dammit, Kemosabe!" Tonto said. "We'd agreed, of course, to
not put Descartes before de horse!"

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written after rereading a verse this morning that Facebook reminded me I had written two years ago.

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."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/20/17

After divorce, in the U.S. at least, a slight majority
of those folks will decide to remarry.
Factors like sex, age, education level, income, et
cetera cause subgroup stats to vary.
According to a Pew Research Center survey, an
"I'd Consider Marrying Again" statistic
Reveals that thirty percent of men and fifty-four
percent of women aren't that optimistic.

NOTE: The presentation above is highly simplistic and the little bit of data therein may be factually described as "cherry-picked." When I woke up ‘round 9:00 this morning, after hitting the hay ‘round 4:30 this morning subsequent to finishing up the re-watching of all of Season One of "Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency," I had the theme of divorce/remarriage on my mind and the rhyme-pair statistic/optimistic already ready for doggerel construction. After arising and firing up the computer, I scanned through a half-dozen or so pages on as many websites, hoping to find a single, condensed, simple stat comparing average divorce rates with remarriage rates in the U.S. I did not find that desired compact data point. I drew the data I used from the seventh paragraph of the second chapter of a Pew Social Trends report. There was no "I'd Consider Marrying Again" data column listed per se, but it was the most efficient means by which I could still accurately refer to a section of survey samples. I do not mean to mislead. It's just doggerel, fer chrissake. For whatever reason, I was compelled to write on a specific theme and use at least one seemingly-preordained rhyme-pair. But I didn't want to explore the subject beyond a quatrain of verse. Each line is longer than I had originally envisioned necessary to get the point across. But that's the way these things sometimes go. And in case you're wondering, NO, I did not awake contemplating remarriage for myself. That would demand far more optimism than I could muster, even if I wanted to, which I don't, thank you very much.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/21/17

Once, one fourteen-year-old lad in Old Victorian-Era London Town
Broke into Buckingham Palace! And, wow, the kicker of all kickers:
While he was keen on theft, he didn't seek royal jewels or a crown.
Oh no, instead, the boy purloined a pair of Queen Vickie's knickers.

After learning the sanctity of her undies drawer had been abused,
I'd like to think Queen Victoria stoically said, "We are not amused."

The muse for today's doggerel was this tweet in my Twitter feed this morning: "A 14-year-old boy once broke into Buckingham Palace and stole Queen Victoria's underwear." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/26/17

Yo, y’all! We are scallions.
And, Dude, we like to rap.
So, we be da Rapscallions
Who do mischievous crap.
And we make our millions
Through BMI and ASCAP!

Hoo-boy! Today's doggerel didn't take long to write. But it took a couple of hours to illustrate, I reckon. Oy. My muse? Candidly, I haven't a clue.

Da Rapscallions

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 08/27/17

With my eyeballs focused on the screen, my chin in hand and my
elbow on the desk chair armrest,
I was bedazzled by an online factoid about William Shakespeare
that I never would have guessed.
Besides all of his plays and his poems, he created over seventeen-
hundred of our common words!
A Shakespeare-less world in which curiosity (or sexuality) could
never be "aroused" seems absurd.

The muse for today's doggerel is from a tweet that popped-up on my Twitter feed this morning: "William Shakespeare invented the word swagger. In fact, he invented over 1,700 common words that we use today, including bedazzled, aroused, drugged, addiction, puking, bloodstained, accused, dauntless, assassination, cold-blooded, elbow, and eyeball." — Did You Know? (@DidYouKnowFacts on Twitter)

I like how the small sampling of Shakespeare-coined words cited above from among the alleged seventeen-hundred total, are just enough words to write a compelling screen treatment for a murder mystery and/or action film on the back of a cocktail napkin, if only a few proper nouns, a couple of definite and/or indefinite articles, and a preposition or two are also added. How 'bout that!?

Did You Know? William Shakespeare invented over 1,700 common words that we use today.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/02/17 - #1

My current Army Basic Training style buzz-cut is
nothing much to look at, and that's okay.
I may never again wake up to a good one, per se,
but then again there's no Bad Hair Day.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/02/17 - #2


Their baby daughter was born in September of Two-Thousand-Eleven.
They named her Ziri.
The next month Apple released its intelligent personal assistant. So,
had her parents known
Of the unintended consequence between two otherwise unconnected
data points, in theory,
They'd have chosen another name, 'cause when they say, "Hey, Ziri!"
it activates the phone.

Sure, they could change young Ziri's name to make the Siri-sounding
problem null and void.
Or, they could swap their intelligent personal assistant and phone for
Cortana on an Android.

When Ziri's sister, Alexa, was born, their parents said, "No one expects
a problem this time!"
But now, when anyone tells Alexa to do anything, the family gets parcels
from Amazon Prime.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/04/17 - #1

I don't know about drug smuggling in Turkey, interdiction, incarceration, or trials.
But now I imagine intrepid smugglers who used to deal in banned Scrabble tiles.

The muse for today's doggerel was this tweet in my Twitter feed this morning: "The letters Q, W, and X were illegal in Turkey for 85 years." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/04/17 - #2

The word "avocado" is derived from the Aztec word "ahuácatl"
— no ifs, or ands, or buts.
And "ahuácatl" means "testicle." So, next time I see guacamole,
I'll likely say, "Aw, nuts!"

The muse for today's second installment of doggerel was this tweet in my Twitter feed: "The word 'avocado' comes from the Aztec word 'ahuácatl' meaning 'testicle.'" — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/06/17

I've got an IcyHot® Extra Strength Medicated XL
patch on my back this morning.
My daughter once sent me some BENGAY® patches.
While that brand also works,
I imagine the homophone's effect on homophobes
might necessitate this warning:
"BENGAY isn't endorsement of conversion therapy,
VP Pence and your fellow jerks."

BENGAY® Ultra-Strength Pain-Relief Patches

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/07/17

Whenever your otherwise-fantastic plastic lover suddenly
engages in incessant bitching,
Perhaps an interruption in its initial ROM-encoding data
stream led to current glitching.

Or, perhaps its AI is sophisticated enough to analyze and
assess you as being a sick,
Piece of shit, motherfucking son-of-a-bitch, sadistic pervert,
sexbot-abusing, total prick.

Try rebooting one or both units — the nonhuman and/or
the potentially-inhuman human.
Still no change? You and/or the bot will be reprogrammed
by our on-site techie crewman.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/09/17

I just read a factoid about all of the American flags
left standing on the surface of the Moon.
I do not know about you, but for me this afternoon
the information is kind of a mind-bender.
Tho' the factoid doesn't go into detail, due to the
lack of a protective atmosphere, I assume,
The flags have been sun-bleached white, turning
Old Glory into flags of truce or surrender.

The muse for today's doggerel was this tweet in my Twitter feed this morning: "All of the American flags on the Moon are still standing, but they have turned white from exposure to the Sun." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

Apollo 17 Mission, 1971

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/14/17

At 5:04 this morning, I awoke and thought the clock said, "SOY."
Being only semi-conscious, I wondered whether this was a ploy
To subliminally advertise soybean-based foods and condiments
And, if so, I should file a class action suit to seek recompense.

I'm wide awake now, one of the American monolingual hoy polloi.
But if I spoke Spanish, I might have exclaimed, "¡Yo, Soy, yo soy!"
No, I'm English-speaking only, with whatever limitation that means.
So that means: At 5:04 this morning, my clock talked about beans.

Four Minutes After Five A.M., Or SOY?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/15/17

Stephen started dating a wonderful woman, a high school English teacher.
He loved her looks. He loved her spirit. He loved her…, well, every feature.
But she returned his love letters, with red-ink Fs for spelling and grammar.
He saw red. She is dead. Now his run-on sentence is Life in the slammer.

Better send a valentine, if you can't do the time!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/16/17 - #1

We left-handed people are often left out of tests since our brains work differently.
The practice seems appallingly discriminatory, since it discriminates against me.
While those ninety-percent Righty folks might not mind, I find this to be sacrilege.
I would expect US-funded scientists to respect my Straight White Male Privilege.

NOTE: Today's muse: "Scientists usually omit left-handed people from tests because their brain works differently." — WTF Facts (@WTFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/16/17 - #2

Emetophilia is a fetish for watching someone else up-chuck.
I try to imagine the motivation, but I think, "What the fuck!?"
Is it Nature or Nurture that is to blame for this kind of kook?
If I met an emetophile, ew, against my will I'd probably puke.

NOTE: The muse for today's bonus rhyme: "Emetophilia is a fetish for watching people throw up.." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/17/17

An estimated two-thirds of the total seven-and-a-half
billion people now on this planet
Have never in their approximate five billion collective
lives seen, first-hand, any snow.
Though I generally appreciate living in a land with four
seasons, sometimes, dammit,
I envy folks in the tropics when our snow is knee-deep
and wind-chill is twenty below.

NOTE: Today's muse: "Two-thirds of the people on Earth have never seen snow." — What The F*ck Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/20/17

Rather than rely on potentially unpredictable avian
behavior for a line of reference,
Another age-old similar simile and idiom may offer
a suitable alternate preference.
So, instead of "as the crow flies," consider the more
alliterative "as the arrow flies."
Crows may stray. But arrows maintain their x- and
z-axes, if not so much their y-'s.

NOTE: Today's muse was provided by Facebook this morning when it reminded me of some verse from one-year-to-the-day ago: "Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/20/16 - #3." So there!

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"The course of true love never did run smooth…."
William Shakespeare, "A Midsummer Night's Dream," Act 1, Scene 1

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/21/17

Yes, that single typo cost him his one true love.
(You'll have to guess the misspelling I speak of.)
While worry of STDs caused him constant terror,
He should have also feared a typographical error
'Cause that's what landed him in the penitentiary,
While looking for love in the Twenty-First Century.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/27/17

This morning I see that someone visited my website
from Middlesex, North Carolina.
"Middlesex?" I say to myself, "Sounds like someone
with both a penis and a vagina."
So, being curious, not bi-curious, just curious, I search
out the derivation of the name.
Over a thousand years ago in southeastern England
where Saxons had staked claim,
Saxons got their name from the "seax," a kind of knife
with which they were identified.
"Middleseaxans" were so-called because other Seaxans
lived on every adjoining side.
Sometime along the way, from Old English, through
Middle English, to Modern English,
"Middlesex" came to be. And etymologically or bisexually,
that might make one tinglish.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 09/30/17

I took a short nap after getting home from work yesterday.
So, big whoop, huh? But get this: I started dreaming, okay,
BEFORE I got to sleep! Realizing that, I opened my eyes.
With all my dream-state states, I should be beyond surprise.

Why my mind did that, I could not then (nor now) surmise.
I closed my eyes, went to sleep — fascinated and surprised.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/01/17

"I thought she was a close friend of mine," he'd said.
"And before you ask, no, I never gave her any sperm.
But suddenly, unexpectedly, our friendship was dead.
She ghosted me even before 'ghosting' was a term."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/04/17

In the mid-Nineteen-Thirties CE, Blind Boy Fuller recorded
a song called "Truckin' My Blues Away,"
An example of so-called "hokum" Blues — humorous,
using double entendre and sexual innuendo.
Then, inspired by Fuller's song in Nineteen-Sixty-Eight,
R. Crumb drew a one-panel cartoon to say,
"Keep On Truckin'," which became an iconic hippie-era
image. That's the facts, and now you know.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/05/17

Those DACA kids, also known as the "Dreamers,"
have lived here most of their young lives.
A majority are likely more assimilated and American
than two of the President's three wives.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/09/17

"Let sleeping dogs lie" was coined ‘cause dogs try
to lie whenever asked, "Who chewed my shoe?"
Cats, however, never lie. Ask, "Hey, who shit in my
shoe!?" They want you to know who owns you.

The Sleepy Little Grandfurbabies

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/12/17

I heard a woman mispronounce the "corps"
Of "Marine Corps" in a local-area TV PSA.
Saying "Marine Corpse" out of ignorance or
A slip of the tongue, it's morbid either way.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/19/17

October Thirty-First, Halloween, is drawing nigh. And by the by,
Before taking kiddos out to score for their annual sugar benders,
You might want to download a smart phone app that has a map
indicating the residences of all the local registered sex offenders.

Beware the potential dangers of accepting candy from strangers!

Halloween Candy

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/20/17

Ron Howard first portrayed Opie Taylor in Nineteen-Sixty on
"The Danny Thomas Show."
For several years now, I've imagined "Opie" to be a diminutive.
But for what, I did not know.
Of two origin theories, one borrows the nickname of Opal Cates.
Whatever. I cannot avoid
Thinking that, if any parents are calling their kid Opie today, it's
most likely short for Opioid.

First Appearance: Ron Howard As Opie Taylor

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/21/17

Once upon a time, the CIA hired a magician to teach agents
a secret language based on a variety of patterns for tying shoe-
laces, along with teaching them some sleight-of-hand tricks.

When I read about that, I wondered how many thousands of
pages containing how many thousands more photos would be
required to convey, say, The Bible all in laced-footwear pics.

''In 1973, the CIA's 'Manual of Trickery and Deception' was supposed to be destroyed — but it never was. A surviving copy was discovered in 2007, so we now know that the CIA hired a magician and had him teach the agents sleight of hand. Aside from magic tricks, he also taught them a secret language based entirely on different patterns of tying shoelaces.'' — Did You Know Facts (@DidYouKnowFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/23/17

The three great monotheistic religions supposedly worship the same god.
So, his telling Jews, Christians, and Muslims opposing truths is very odd.
This deity speaks differently to each sect, congregation, and worshiper too,
Till, collectively, monotheists seem to have more gods than the Hindu do.

Good this allegedly-singular deity does for some, for others is pure evil,
Such that it's only one's POV at times that differentiates deity from devil.

So, this god promises seventy-two virgins in paradise to martyred jihadis.
Of the nineteen 9/11 holy hijacking terrorists, fifteen of them were Saudis.
In Saudi Arabia, with little separation of church and state, god can't resist
In labeling a Jew or Christian "infidel," and any peaceful atheist "terrorist."

Of course, this isn't meant to single out Saudis, though. No, let's be clear:
God swaps-out names then tells some believers to do the same thing here.

Today's muse: "Saudi Arabia officially classifies atheism as terrorism." — What The F*** Facts (@WhatTheFFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/26/17
(First Draft Of Which Was Started ‘Round 12:10am. Oy.)

I awoke after midnight on this workday, five hours early,
With racing rhyming thoughts to rouse me prematurely.
I wanted no conscious concepts wandering in my head,
But in curtailing my own writing, I turned to reciting instead.
So, eyes still closed, on my side (not on my belly or fanny),
I recited James Whitcomb Riley's "Little Orphant Annie."
If, like me, you have OCD, you know what that's about:
Those kinda Gobble-uns‘ll git you
Ef you          

By James Whitcomb Riley, 1885CE

Little Orphant Annie's come to our house to stay,
An' wash the cups an' saucers up, an' brush the crumbs away,
An' shoo the chickens off the porch, an' dust the hearth, an' sweep,
An' make the fire, an' bake the bread, an' earn her board-an'-keep
; An' all us other childern, when the supper things is done,
We set around the kitchen fire an' has the mostest fun
A-list'nin' to the witch-tales ‘at Annie tells about,
An' the Gobble-uns ‘at gits you
Ef you          

Onc't they was a little boy wouldn't say his prayers,—
So when he went to bed at night, away up stairs,
His Mammy heerd him holler, an' his Daddy heerd him bawl,
An' when they turn't the kivvers down, he wasn't there at all!
An' they seeked him in the rafter-room, an' cubby-hole, an' press
, An' seeked him up the chimbly-flue, an' ever'wheres, I guess;
But all they ever found was thist his pants an' roundabout—
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you          

An' one time a little girl ‘ud allus laugh an' grin,
An' make fun of ever'one, an' all her blood an' kin;
An' onc't, when they was "company," an' ole folks was there,
She mocked ‘em an' shocked ‘em, an' said she didn't care!
An' thist as she kicked her heels, an' turn't to run an' hide,
They was two great big Black Things a-standin' by her side,
An' they snatched her through the ceilin' ‘fore she knowed what she's about!
An' the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you          

An' little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue,
An' the lamp-wick sputters, an' the wind goes woo-oo!
An' you hear the crickets quit, an' the moon is gray,
An' the lightnin'-bugs in dew is all squenched away,—
You better mind yer parents, an' yer teachers fond an' dear,
An' churish them ‘at loves you, an' dry the orphant's tear,
An' he'p the pore an' needy ones ‘at clusters all about,
Er the Gobble-uns'll git you
Ef you          

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/29/17 - #1

So this morning when I awoke, I wondered whether ADD,
Attention Deficit Disorder,
Has been completely superseded by ADHD, Attention Deficit
H-something Disorder.
And if so, did I learn but then forget what the "H" stands for
during this reinvention?
Or, did I never know what the H-something was because I
wasn't paying attention?

I just now looked up ADHD, or Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, both to see what the H-something is again and to get a sense for if-and-when ADD became ADHD. Turns out ADD didn't quite make it to the end of the Reagan era before it transitioned into ADHD. Whoa! Where has my mind been?

"The condition [ADHD] was officially known as attention deficit disorder (ADD) from 1980 to 1987" — excerpt from the Wikipedia article on "Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder"

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 10/29/17 - #2

Hypnagogia is that transitional state between
being sound asleep and wide awake.
For some, this phase may lead to lucid dreaming
or to hallucinations, fer chrissake.
For those few among us who, due to freakish
happenstance in defiance of all logic,
Are doomed to create doggerel during this state,
the curse of verse is hypnagogic.

While reading some background info on "Hypnagogia," I was surprised by the number of the variously described signs and symptoms I've experienced over my lifetime. Interesting. See: Hypnagogia on Wikipedia.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/03/17

I've noticed the ingredient "stearic acid" listed as constituent in
myriad products for most of my years now.
But it was only this morning that I finally learned "stearic acid"
is made from processed beef fat. Holy cow!

And as for the derivation of the name, it comes from the Greek
word στέαρ, "stéar," which means "tallow."
I'd have guessed "steer," but omitting slaughtered calves, heifers,
cows, and bulls would've been shallow.

Industrial applications for stearic acid include cosmetics, soaps
'n' detergents – the whole kit 'n' caboodle.
How now, brown cow, where's the beef? Why, it's even hanging
on the fridge as a kiddo's crayon doodle.

The muse for today's doggerel was this post on Twitter: "When you smell the familiar scent of crayons, you're actually smelling the pungent aroma of beef fat. Stearic acid, a processed beef fat, gives crayons their smooth consistency, creates their unmistakable odor, and is essentially the only main ingredient that separates them from candles." — Did You Know? (@DidYouKnowFacts on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/05/17

The very last thing before I awoke this morning, I was
writing doggerel in a dream.
While words made sense in my head, they appeared
weird on the computer screen.
For example: I generally prefer to use the 10-point Arial
typeface in Microsoft Word.
But the dreamt screen text was a 48-point italic/script
font that looked totally absurd.

And the spelling was beyond typos, beyond atrocious,
so much that I got a sneaking
Suspicion that I was asleep and dreaming, and my
subconscious was using greeking.
Greeking: Nonsense text used to highlight style over
content in layout design. Dumb?
At least my dream greeking got first letters right, better
than traditional "Lorem ipsum."

Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, cu quo posse semper volumus, legimus
volutpat interpretaris est ut. Vim ex tempor consectetuer, ius nominate
splendide forensibus in. Pri ea omnesque copiosae constituto, eu quo
esse porro nominavi. Tation lobortis nam no, eu invidunt lobortis eam.
Vocent theophrastus deterruisset ut sea, errem quando torquatos in vim,
eripuit oporteat interesset te eum. What do I see? Hey, it’s Greek to me.

But no, just when the concept of Greek-to-me greeking
settles comfortably in one's head,
It can be jolting, even revolting, to learn that traditional
greeking is pseudo-Latin instead.

In case you were wondering, no, the preceding doggerel is not the now-forgotten rhyme I was dreaming, if indeed I really did dream some original rhyming verse. I mean, it now occurs to me that my subconscious could have greeked that part of the dream too, right? Oy. So anyway, today's doggerel might possibly be the true story of a false memory. Oy, again.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/09/17

The song "Black Magic Woman" was written by the founder
of "Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac," i.e. Peter Green.
The band rebranded as just "Fleetwood Mac" after Green
dropped out and his mind turned schizoid labyrinthine.
Anyway, even though post-Green Fleetwood Mac had a UK
Singles Chart hit with "Black Magic Woman," fact is:
The song's full potential was not truly realized until released
in Nineteen-Seventy on Santana's album "Abraxas."

NOTE: Today's doggerel was written as a form of penance after having spontaneously bastardized the first verse of Green's lyrics while driving to work this morning. Sincere apologies to all concerned. Mea culpa. Oy.

Got a Black Magic Marker.
Got a Black Magic Marker.
I've got a Black Magic Marker.
No marker's darker, no siree.
I've got a Black Magic Marker,
And I'm tempted to make graffiti.

Black Magic Markers

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

Well, okay, he may be a lying, hypocritical, bigoted,
homophobic, child-molesting son of a bitch,
Who wraps himself in the flag and hides behind the
Ten Commandments and holy cross of Jesus.
But at least he'll vote for our tax-cut scheme to re-
route more money to CEOs and the super-rich,
Because somebody's gotta pay back the people who
bought us off, and it's sure not gonna be us.

Vote for Roy Moore, Alabama! When it all comes down to Common Decency, Family Values, and Christian Beliefs, sometimes less* is Moore! *(Less, much less, nonexistent, whatever.)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/12/17

Over his or her lifetime, the average American consumes fifty tons of food
And eleven thousand gallons of liquid beverages. I do not mean to be rude,
However, after reading those statistics I could not help but think about this:
What goes in must come out. We each make a hill of poo and pool of piss.

Today's muse: "The average American eats about 50 tons of food and drinks 50,000 liters (11,000 gallons) of liquid during their life." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

* * * * *

To substantiate (or discredit) the claims I made, spontaneously and intuitively, in the last sentence of today's doggerel, I decided to do some post-doggerel research and math:

According to an online EPA document, twenty-five pounds of manure, in general, is equivalent to one cubic foot in volume. So, fifty tons (short tons) of excrement converted to pounds and divided by twenty-five equals four thousand cubic feet of solid waste. This particular total volume of matter could be configured, say, into a hillock of twenty feet by twenty feet, with a height of ten feet. If you've ever heard the expression "shit a brick," well, over a lifetime a respectable dung hill is produced by the average American. MAGA!

And the eleven thousand gallons of urine cited in today's doggerel would be just eight-and-one-third percent shy of filling to capacity a rectangular in-ground swimming pool, the dimensions of which are fourteen feet by twenty-eight feet, with an average wall-height of forty-two inches, a shallow-end water-fill depth of thirty-six inches, and a deep-end water-fill depth of ninety inches. Sorry, I was too lazy to search for the dimensions of an eleven-thousand-gallon pool. While I didn't do further research to ascertain another spontaneous hunch, I can still imagine that a dedicated American beer-drinker could top-off the twelve-thousand-gallon pool cited in our example, over his or her lifetime.

So, although I haven't bothered to verify the statistics regarding the average amount of per capita excreta as stated in the Fact In You Face factoid from Twitter, it seems that my assumptions based on that data are valid. So there!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/16/17

The citizens of Sydney, Australia, voted to name a new ferry "Ferry McFerryface."
While apparently popular with the populace, the name is deemed a total disgrace
By the Maritime Union of Australia folks, who fear their professionalism imperiled.
As for me, I cannot help but think
That, if that ferry should ever sink,
No McFerryface ballad could ever equal "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."

Today's muse was an article on Ferry McFerryface, published by Boing Boing.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 11/19/17

When in Sweden, if some attractive Swede asks to kiss on you,
Clarify, ‘cause otherwise consequence could make you glower.
See, "kiss" means "pee" in Swedish, as in "May I piss on you?"
If you're not Donald Trump, you'll likely shun the golden shower.

Today's muse: "'Kiss' means ‘pee' in Swedish." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/02/17

I just read this online factoid: "Teddy bears
kill more children than real bears do."
And it reminded me of a Biblical passage* in
which a holy man was wholly impolitic.
After being teased by little kids for being bald,
Prophet Elisha cursed all forty-two.
So, God made bears maul 'em all! Scripture
doesn't even imply Elisha was a dick.

The moral of this story is elusive, since the would-
be Good Guys are shy of morals.
How the actions of prophet or deity differ from
the Dark Side, I cannot see nor say.
But if Elisha was so goddamned vain about his
pate, he should've worn his laurels,
Or at least gathered any dead kids' uneaten
scalps to make him a helluva toupée.

* 23. And he went up from thence unto Bethel: and as he was going up by the way, there came forth little children out of the city, and mocked him, and said unto him, Go up, thou bald head; go up, thou bald head.

24. And he turned back, and looked on them, and cursed them in the name of the LORD. And there came forth two she bears out of the wood, and tare forty and two children of them.

25. And he went from thence to Mount Carmel, and from thence he returned to Samaria.

— Second Kings, Chapter 2, Verses 23-25, King James Version (KJV)

- - - - -

The muse for today's doggerel: "Teddy bears kill more children than real bears do.." — Facts In Your Face‏ (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/13/17

Heather’s father seldom said much, so it did not take long for her to learn
To accept his silence, or anyone else’s, as tacit approval from the taciturn.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/16/17

I stopped using so-called "antibacterial" hand
soap. With regards to my criteria:
Science says such soap can lead to surviving
strains of mutant super-bacteria.

But having similar concerns for other hygienic
behavior makes me melancholic.
Will swabbing before daily glucose testing lead
to a strain of microbial alcoholics?

At least I use isopropyl alcohol instead of ethanol.
Otherwise, to their detriment,
Alchy germs would have to come to terms with
imbibing their kind's excrement.

Might germs form analogs of human centipedes
to feed their need for alcohol?
Will blame be linked to my name if I use regular
soap to wash my hands of it all?

There's already a lengthy list of Lister-namesake
infections. How should I behave
If — besides Listera, Listerella, Listeria, etc.*
there were a Listeria brotherdave?

What if a Listeria brotherdave pandemic left Earth's
human population no hope,
And the last dying person curses my name, my
alcohol swabs and hand soap?

Just as you curse this verse now, that person will
curse me, my swabs and soap.

*Joseph Lister (1827-1912), aka Baron Lister of Lyme Regis, was the English surgeon who introduced the principles of antisepsis to standard surgical procedures and, thus, greatly reduced postoperative mortality worldwide. There are a lot of Lister-based words and phrases which, like the Listerine® brand mouthwash, were all coined in honor of Dr. Lister. They include these terms from medical science: Lister dressing, Lister method, Lister tubercle, Listera, Listera convallarioides, Listera cordata, Listera ovata, Listerella, Listerellosis, Listeria, Listeria denitrificans, Listeria grayi, Listeria infections, Listeria meningitis, Listeria monocytogenes, Listerial, Listerian, Listeriosis, Listerism, and Listerize. Whew! And now you know.

Alert! Antibacterial soap may contain hidden hazards for your family!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/17/17

Samantha said, "That woman was blonde as a bat."
I wanted to laugh and to either tease her or hug her.
But instead, I said, "Don't you mean 'Blind as a bat'?"
"No, I mean ash blonde, like a Louisville Slugger®."

Nice'n Easy 10a Ultra-Lght Ash-Blonde Hair Color

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/17/17 - #2

She wanted something interesting to say
To a cute guy in line at Triple-A Cinemas.
She meant to mention manga and anime,
But it came out as "MAGA and enemas."

MAGA: Make America Go Again!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/19/17

There are sixty-nine-hundred living human languages in the world today.
You may say, "So what, Brother Dave? BFD, BD! Why'd I wanna know?"
Well, if you consider that even Santa Claus could not be that multilingual,
It's no surprise Ol' Saint Nick generally sticks with a generic, "Ho, ho, ho!"

Ho! Cubed

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/23/17

From the farm to the food processing plant to the
store and to us, according to the FDA,
The average American ends up eating around a
pound of insect body parts per annum.
Don't panic and get manic, at least the bug parts
are organic and mostly nontoxic. Okay?
No conspiracy: Bugs are linked so inextricably that
folks accidentally harvest 'n' can 'em.

I'm an average American. (Keep your snarky
comments to yourself.)
So if, as we're told,
I have consumed an annual pound of antennae,
carapaces, legs, wings and other things,
Then a lifetime net weight of bug parts I've eaten
is considerable, considering I'm this old.
It's equal to eating a ten-year-old child, but without
all the stigma that cannibalism brings.

The inspiration for today's doggerel: "According to the FDA the average person consumes a pound of insects per year, mostly mixed into other foods." — Facts In Your Face (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/26/17 - #1

I awoke with two lines of childhood rhyme on my mind:
"Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop,"
Plus the ever-taunting "[First Name X] and [First Name Y]
sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G."
Although I have known about these two incidents for
decades now, never once did I stop
To think the backstories as to why these folks should be
up in a tree were M-I-S-S-I-N-G.

Did the still-cradled baby end up in a tree due to a freak
phenomenon of tornadic activity?
Do genetic traits from protohuman primates explain a
kissing couple's arboreal proclivity?
Cursory online research into these matters suggests
credible data is non-existent. So, I'm
Likely to go to my grave thinking the incidences are two
of the great mysteries of our time!

Rock-A-Bye Baby: WTF, kid!? How the hell did you end up here!?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/26/17 - #2

Hard-boiled or over-easy or scrambled whatever. But, Jumpin’ Jehovah,
It’s breakfast time and this morning I’m craving some cooked chicken ova!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/27/17

Hedonophobia is the fear of feeling pleasure.
Can such fear be isolated and measurable?
And might such fear be something to treasure,
Especially if one finds brutality pleasurable?

The inspiration for today's doggerel: "Hedonophobia is the fear of feeling pleasure." — Facts In Your Face (@FactsInYourFace on Twitter)

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/29/17 - #1

Driving in, listening to Bob "Theme Time Radio Hour" Dylan
DJ-play some Sons of the Pioneers,
Once again I marvel how Bob Nolan's lyrics are, both literally
and figuratively, "music to my ears."
Nolan often used AAB/CCB or even AAAB/CCCB rhyme
schemes in single couplets of rhyme.
"Cool Water" and "Tumblin' Tumbleweeds" are just two of the
many songs he wrote in his time.
Nolan was a successful singing drug-store cowboy on radio,
on records, and in picture shows.
Still, his skill as a Western music poet/songsmith is unsurpassed.
Nolan is gone. And so it goes.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 12/29/17 - #2

Yes, Japanese anime heroines can be hot as hell.
And yet, I have no doubt,
Their over-large eyes and oval irises, if seen I-R-L,
Would likely creep me out.

High School DxD Herioines

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