Everybody’s crying wolf,
but what’s the use of bawling
that Depression’s back again
and the sky is falling?
Talking poor mouth is a ruse,
practised by the many,
from the farmer in his field
to comics like Jack Benny.
I see new cars everywhere.
Credit cards are common.
I haven’t got a single friend
reduced to eating Ramen.
Yessiree, the times are good
and I’m a millionaire;
but while we’re on the subject
have you got ten bucks to spare?

Nebraska is a friendly state;
they’ll take care of your kids
if they’re ill or damaged or
have gone and flipped their lids.
Even if you’re out of state
just drive on in and drop
your troubled teen at their doorstep
and then go out and shop.
If Nebraska wants to make
their state more friendly still,
they’ll let us drop our parents off
when they get old and ill.

Everybody’s out to get
the Mormon Church today;
they’ve meddled in the politics
of those most proud & gay.
The Democrats don’t like it
and professors shake their head,
proclaiming such hypocrisy
fills them with righteous dread.
"What about polygamy!"
the critics have to prod;
"That shows any oddity
is okey-doke with God!"
The people who hate Mormons
never really change their tune.
The sun has set on their beliefs
but they think it’s high noon.

The season of the cold is here,
full of germs and nameless fear;
shaking hands is suicide,
do not even kiss your bride!
Spritz the world with Mr. Clean.
Vapo-Rub will make the scene.
Gargle with a bit of bleach.
Flee to a Jamaican beach.
Do not panic; stay quite sane . . .
wrap yourself in cellophane!

I went to look at razors
at the drugstore yesterday;
just why there are so many
is much more than I can say.
Color-coded, platinum,
and multi-bladed too,
they vibrate with a Teflon edge
and seal your cuts with glue.
Turbo-charged with radium
and ergonomic — whee!
They slide around your chinny-chin
with lanolin and ghee.
Shaving is more fun now
than a barrel full of cheese
and keeps your cheeks as barren
as a pair of knobby knees.

Methusaleh lived many years
beyond the normal span;
he grew so old he was forgot
by devils, God and man.
A sack of dried up bones was he,
his appetite was small;
he could have lived forever on
 a single matzo ball.
He almost lived to see the Flood –
that symbol of God’s wrath –
but finally decided
not to have another bath.

My father always drove a Ford
while I’m a Chevy man.
My son has got a GM truck –
or maybe it’s a van.
But anywho it looks to me
like all three brands are done for.
The Big Three automakers say
assembly lines won’t run more.
Instead they are retooling
to produce a tinkertoy
that runs on blended essence
of corn squeezins and raw soy.
That is if they can get the dough
from dear old Uncle Sam.
Otherwise they’ll be in both
a pickle and a jam.
But that’s the price of greatness
and horse power gone beserk.
We’ll soon be driving mopeds
going out to look for work.
 

David Oreck,
huckster prime.
Vacuum cleaners
are his crime.
In the deep night
bowling balls
levitating
down the halls.
Infomercials
only seen
by those people
who don’t clean

I bought my winter parka
at the camping store last week;
it’s heavy and it’s bulky
but the fur is awful sleek.
The inside is bright orange
and the outside is dark blue
and when I put the hood up
I’m inside a dark igloo.
The pockets all have zippers
and there’s cords ‘most everywhere
and when I pull upon them
not an inch of skin is bare.
It’s true I kinda waddle
when I’m walking down the street
and it is hard to recognize
the people that I meet
but I can laugh at winter’s worst
when bundled up so tight
and tell the frostbite fairies
they can go and fly a kite.
I want to be impervious
so just to play it cautious
I am going out to buy
a pair of new galoshes.
 

It’s getting late, the party’s o’er
and yet there is that one lone bore
who cannot, will not, shall not, cease
through yawns and groans, to speak his piece.
A funny story, anecdote,
I fear there is no antidote.
He never knows to take a hint –
to shut him up we’d pay a mint!
He wags his tongue and flaps his lips
and thinks that we enjoy his quips.
And when there’s nothing left to say,
he starts all over anyway!
I’d slit his throat but no doubt he
would rise to chatter endlessly.
If only talk could fuel our cars,
this guy could drive us straight to Mars!