INSANITY
msn and aol
both of you go straight to hell
if i should try to chat
you freeze the screen and ruin that
when i try to send my mail
your evil programs make me fail
mailer daemon raised its ugly head
and says my address now is dead
just when i think windows may actually run
i want to go and get a gun
to shoot the monitor would be so much fun
blue screen of death, fatal error too
must i re-boot? yes i do
three key, it is up to you
save me from this pc hades i pray
if only i can open this document today
now, just where did my address book go?
tell me now, if you know
deliver me, oh virus scan
save me, defrag if you can
if that won't work, dare i restore?
will it work, or will i cry some more?
bill gates and steve case you make me mad
your code and isp's are bad
do you think that you are so cute and smart?
do you think you make the red sea part?
i do not, i think you're gay,
i wish both of you would go away
Oh, shopping cart wheels whose evil grate
never brings shoppers any nearer to the exit gate.
Do not abandon all hope, ye who have entered here.
Prayers arise from those who have waited nearly a year,
that another unseen cashier may yet appear
at the sacred register where no customers wait.
A righteous counting angel and her merciless math
barred my express lane heavenly path.
Now, I stand in this infernal check-out line jail,
trapped behind a Damien-child’s banshee wail
that pierces my brain with hell’s fiery nail.
Only the mother’s deaf to little Satan’s screams of wrath.
My kingdom for a cashier who is able to scan
without calling the great imperial check-authorizing man.
Because the ATM never works, you can bet,
for those whose shopping leads them into debt,
but there are savings in double coupons yet.
Weary shoppers, pray if you can,
that I may finally find my van.
Comatose, she stares from bed,
barely able to lift her head.
Those glassy eyes, those pupils wide,
her personality just recently died.
Nurse, bring another sedative, her brain is fried.
Who knows how long she must reside
on the hospital ward's psycho side?
Now, she's the Thorazine queen,
with skin so pale it's nearly green.
The therapists love her because she's the best
at flunking every personality test.
When poor hubby sent her roses red,
she clipped the buds and saved the thorns instead.
Yes, frail little asylum bride,
your doctor speaks your name with pride.
Medical journals far and wide
published his article featuring you inside.
He changed your name, your identity to hide,
but with never a doubt, it is a safe bet,
that you're the psychiatrist’s teacher's pet.
Way back when, long, long time ago,
(Back when dinosaurs and 57 Chevys roamed the earth, you know.)
Way back then, when I was a kid,
These are some of the old-fashioned things that I did:
In a long ago Flintstone land that time and technology forgot,
We played outside; yes, we played there a lot.
We didn’t have SUV’s, X-Box, not even cell phones,
No, none of those fancy programmable things with downloadable ring tones.
No, dear, us kids didn’t have phones unless you count the ones that we made.
We talked to each other on two tin cans and some string,
Yes, we actually did play with such a thing.
To communicate, folks didn’t chisel rocks or paint cave walls anymore,
and the mailman still brought real mail with stamps to the box or the door.
This was in the ancient times before computerized mail.
Now, child, don’t interrupt, let me tell you this tale;
Actual handwritten letters inside of actual envelopes, I kid you not;
Honest, no lie, actual paper we got.
Now, sweetie, let me tell you how it was when I went to school;
We didn’t have indoor heat to keep us warm or a/c to keep us cool.
In the summer, we burned our butts on hot metal slides,
and we didn’t have cars or buses to give us our rides.
We carried heavy books that bent our backs way down low,
and trudged to school all year long through acres of snow,
Uphill both ways--
--don’t interrupt me now, those were the days.
It’s amazing that we actually managed to survive.
Of course, my dear,
that was when doctors who made house calls were still alive.
I swear, all of this is absolutely true;
I’d never tell lies to a smart kid like you.
Caning chairs, home baked bread and tire swings;
Fire flies in jars, screen doors, and sandlot ball,
these were a few of our favorite things.
11/12/2004