Today's poems [7.31.07]

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There once was a fiesty young terrier
Who liked to bite girls on the derriere.
He'd yip and he'd yap,
Then leap up and snap;
And the fairer the derriere the merrier.

There was a young man who preferred 
               Having sex with some kind of a bird. 
                    The rarer the species, 
                    And the fuller of feces, 
               The better---that guy really loved turd. 

               There was a young man from Bangore 
               Who was tired and said to his whore, 
                    "If you'll only roll over 
                    I'll get my dog Rover, 
               And you can have six inches more." 

Ode to a Mammogram



For years and years they told me,  "Be careful of your breasts."
Don't ever squeeze or bruise them, and give them monthly tests.

So, I heeded all their warnings.....and protected them by law....
Guarded them very carefully, and always wore a bra.

After 10 years of careful care, the doctor found a lump.
He ordered up a mammogram to look inside that clump.

"Stand up very close," the nurse said, as she got my tit in line,
"And tell me when it hurts," she said.  "Ah, yes....that's just fine."

She stepped upon a pedal....I could not believe my eyes,
A plastic plate was pressing down....My boob was in a vice....

My skin was stretched and stretched from way up by my chin,
And my poor tit was being squashed to Swedish pancake thing......

Excruciating pain I felt, within it's vice-like grip,
A prisoner in this vicious thing.....My poor defenseless tit......

"Take a deep breath"  she said to me.  Who does she think she's kidding?
My chest is smashed in her machine, I can't breathe and woozy I am getting!

"There, that was good" I heard her say, as the room was slowly swaying.
"Now let's get the other one."........"Lord have mercy," I was praying.

It squeezed me from the up and down, it squeezed me from both sides,
I'll bet she never has this done to HER tender little hide.

If I had no problem when I first came in, I surely have one now......
If there had been a cyst in there, it would have popped Ker-Pow!

This machine was made by a MAN, of this I have no doubt.....
I'd like to get his balls in there.....for months he'd go WITHOUT!

                            Abort, Retry, Ignore
     
   
Once upon a midnight dreary, fingers cramped and vision bleary,
System manuals piled high and wasted paper on the floor,
Longing for the warmth of bedsheets,
Still I sat there, doing spreadsheets:
Having reached the bottom line,
I took a floppy from the drawer.
Typing with a steady hand, I then invoked the SAVE command
But got instead a reprimand: it read "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

Was this some occult illusion? Some maniacal intrusion?
These were choices Solomon himself had never faced before.
Carefully, I weighed my options.
These three seemed to be the top ones.
Clearly, I must now adopt one:
Choose Abort, Retry, Ignore.

With my fingers pale and trembling,
Slowly toward the keyboard bending,
Longing for a happy ending, hoping all would be restored,
Praying for some guarantee
Finally I pressed a key -
But on the screen what did I see?
Again: "Abort, Retry, Ignore."

I tried to catch the chips off-guard -
I pressed again, but twice as hard.
Luck was just not in the cards.
I saw what I had seen before.
Now I typed in desperation
Trying random combinations
Still there came the incantation:
Choose: Abort, Retry, Ignore.

There I sat, distraught, exhausted, by my own machine accosted
Getting up I turned away and paced across the office floor.
And then I saw an awful sight:
A bold and blinding flash of light -
A lightning bolt had cut the night and shook me to my very core.
I saw the screen collapse and die
"Oh no - my database," I cried.
I thought I heard a voice reply,
"You'll see your data Nevermore."

To this day I do not know
The place to which lost data goes.
I bet it goes to heaven where the angels have it stored.
But, as for productivity, well
I fear that it goes straight to hell.
And that's the tale I have to tell.
Your choice: Abort, Retry, Ignore.
  

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