Pat Hatt's Blog, page 183

The Gawker Comes First With A Convo Burst!

So the cat is nearing 100,000 comments at his sea, with about 40,000 done by me. But oh well, they still count for the comment ringing bell. Anyway, to celebrate the cat will give some commentators a chance to speak. Some conversations may not be for the meek. If not here you never responded or email was hidden away, just so you know at your bay. To start it off the longest running commentator, Brian aka The Gawker, is here, one of the first to find my little rhyming rear.

The longest running commentator at my sea.
I guess zombie feet can't make him flee.
Have you already gawked such thing around?
Can't be worse than stepping in crap barefoot from a hound.

zombie's sweet, better than pickled pigs feet,
and stepping in poop makes the censors beep beep beep
out my words, absurd i know, i try to keep it clean
around the kids at the show---speaking of dogs
mine are beat with all the running, all in good funning

Well at least in type you can bleep bleep bleep,
In real life you may offend without a bleep sweep.
Running around and funning, I hope no germy hand shakes.
That would make the cat go done-ing and put on the brakes.

whats already broken cant break, no germs can touch
this mohawked freak, i even wash my hands after
taking a leak, cleanliness is not the godliness you seek
my type? are you trying to hit on me? ha.  wink. wink.
err...back to running, in case you don't believe i am funning.

I think you confused the cat with a leg humper,
A wink wink I'm a mohawked freak could be put on a bumper.
Of course you may get some cat calls there,
Needing to wash your hands and seeking godliness at your lair.

ha. when i worked making tires we washed with lava
before retiring to the break room to get our java
still did little to get the rubber res out the creases
but it did wash away and piddle so dont fear diseases

Geez, where haven't you worked a job?
Tires to corporate to teacher to car jacker repo man, are you in the mob?
Witness protection at your mountain way now?
Good way to avoid the wood chipper or waking up to the head of a cow.

things i havent done are few and far between, i can do
anything i dream, even held a few jobs that might make you
scream///hand cream anyone? would you like that on the plate
or in a bun? i was in on a sting operation once, busted some
grand theft larceny nuts & met the mob at dinner w/ a friend
concrete shoes were not my end---

Well I guess it is good to have friends in low places too.
They could do any dirty work for you.
Except you seem to do that as well by the sounds of it.
I hope it had nothing to do with the loo and cleaning umm spit.
Any more thoughts from the Gawker,
As we end this proving we're both off our rocker?

i was a rocker too, Romulus & The Tall Beers was the name too,
a rather metal gig//long hair, no wigs//played parties for fun
no biz, but all said and done this was fun--be seeing you soon
i will be the big eyes goon lurking ---but never twerking.

A rocking gawker that doesn't really come as a shocker. How tall were the beers though? Bet they made you need to go. And there is the first visitor at my sea with his rhyming spree. Done it all from stepping in crap to performing a rap. Next he'll go be shot into space or run a three legged race. Not sure which will come to pass. But feel free to tell my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

Words Are For The Birds!

I guess they are but they still need to be said at my bar. I mean if I said nothing at all you'd just sit there looking at a blank wall. That would give you a blank stare and leave you saying much at your lair.

Like WTF is that?
Where is the cat?
A blogger glitch?
Isn't no words a bitch?

Give a stare.
All are aware,
To leave you alone.
Didn't even need a mean tone.

Or another stare,
And that means a dare.
Or maybe a humpity hump,
Don't always have to be a grump.

The cat gawks away,
Showing his dismay.
Not a word is said,
Pat knows I want him out of bed.

When words don't linger,
Give the finger.
Poof, and off you go.
Easy peasy at your show.

A simple touch,
Can sure say much.
Like a punch to the head,
Means someone wants you dead.

Or a touch to the butt,
Means the humpity hump once more at your hut.
Unless it is that check up time of year,
Then it means a latex glove may be near.

Food on a plate,
Can be a fine fate,
Except if you're me.
Then that means flee.

A little of this or that,
And no need to chew the fat.
Instead just get it said,
Then play Left 4 Dead.

Not sure why that popped in,
But hey, works for the win.
Now my words are through,
I think I've said an extra one or two.

Words don't always have to come to be at ones sea for what you want or are feeling to be set free. But some just can't shut their trap as they flap and flap. Maybe they have a bad case of gas? It sure beats my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

More News For You At My Zoo!

The cat was minding his own business the other day when those future headlines once again came on display. But this time it wasn't just stuff. It was a different future huff and puff.

2018: Betsy gets 12 more cats.
Damn, they'll never be any rats.
2016: Brian's gawk goes nation wide.
In that he must take pride.

2019: The Blue Guy turns maroon.
Wow, almost the color of my litter sand dune.
2100: The Grammar Nazi is still alive.
Damn, he can sure survive.

2032: Mark Kirkland breaks the freebie record worldwide.
In freebies she does take pride.
2015: Hank gets #1 365 times in a row.
Damn, that is dedication at my show.

2018: The Ninja Wannabe loses the Wannabe.
Pffft that has to be wrong at my sea.
2019: The Ninja Wannabe fooled all.
That is more like it at my hall.

2020: Truedessa gets to Bora Bora.
Does she find there is too much flora?
2020: Truedessa grows bored with Bora Bora.
Yep, there was too much flora.

2016: Betty gets two speeding tickets.
Damn, need to go slow like crickets.
2015: Mary gets another dog.
Four now run her blog.

2017: Humbird does a humming post.
With that she sure can boast.
2101: Manzanita is still alive.
Damn, ancient at her hive.

2020: Rosey loses her mail.
Maybe it hit the trail?
2030: Optimistic long name guy steps on a tack.
Damn, slow news day at their shack.

2021: Anne's airline goes bankrupt and dies.
No longer will she fly the skies.
2022: Old One Eye gets a plastic eye.
But people still see her and go, Oh My!

2500: R still only knows two words.
Still more than say umm birds.
2020: The cat strikes it rich.
Knowing my luck, I'd then end up dead in a ditch.

And there you are at your sea. Now you have things to look forward to thanks to me. Don't say the cat never helps you out. Did your news want to make you twist and shout? It will come to pass and you will remember it was said by my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

The Cat Will Be Nice With A Little Spice!

Here and there the cat jumps about. He has to give all a shout. He likes to hear himself talk. At least I'm not a parrot and just squawk.

Need a little help?
Do you sit and yelp?
You don't have to fear,
Thanks to my little rhyming rear.

Those ads suck.
They try to make a buck.
Especially those YouTube things.
Can't listen to songs pluck strings.

Shove the ads in a locker.
Just use Adblocker.
Then goodbye they go.
Never again will they show.

Need to mange things at once,
And not juggle like a dunce?
Or would that be village loon?
I'll leave that up to the dish and spoon.

Hootsuite does the trick.
Manage all together some slick.
Linkedin, Facebook and Twitter.
There is no need to get bitter.

Can't do this?
Come now don't hiss.
Can't do that?
Don't spit and spat.

Odesk of Elance is as easy as can be.
Can get whatever at your sea.
Just make sure good ratings are had,
And get things done cheap at your pad.

Need followers on Twitter?
Don't buy those from the ummm spitter.
Yeah that is supposed to mean crap,
But you get my lap.

Manageflitter does the trick.
Can find fun people some slick.
And clean up your account,
No matter the amount.

Now you've been helped.
Hopefully no one yelped.
That would hurt the cat's ears.
Sorry, no free beers.

Used any at your sea? They really help me. Always a faster way to get things done at your bay. You just have to look. Got any good ones at your nook? Never trust a singing bass, just trust my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

Blogvengers Part One, Zombies Come Undone!

BlogvengersThe Initial HoursZombies With Powers
     “I’m sorry for your fate, my friend.”
     Trucker whispered as he gripped his bloody axe and began slashing away at the groaning body below him to the max. Tears streamed down his face, the beads falling on the rotting carcass, who no longer moved and remained in place. He fell to his knees leaning over the body as leaves blew by with the subtle breeze.
     “I didn’t want this. I only wanted to bring mankind to the next level of our evolution.” Trucker held up the head and stared at it as it bled. “Suffer the fools who play God. This is my curse, to suffer.”
     Trucker gripped his axe and swung around to a whole group of Creepers, who were gaining ground. The spit fumed from their mouth as their rotting stench could be smelled fifty miles south. They groaned as they stomped toward him, a mindless horde, who were obviously quite dim. Their one track mind’s thinking only of food, starving because of their growing brood. Their eyes widened by the thought of fresh meat as nothing but the dead littered the street.
     “I will try my best to put you out of your misery, it is the least I can do. But if you should win, I understand and I deserve it.”
     Trucker awaited his fate as he stood there looking like fresh Creeper bait. He gripped his axe like a log and became engulfed in a shiny fog. He swung it in every direction he could and chopped many of the Creepers like wood. But felt a bite to his arm and was surrounded by Creepers, who were ready to cause harm. Trucker simply smiled as they knocked him to the cold concrete and stared to the sky, having no regrets in his defeat. His smile turned to concern as his eyes began to burn and a blinding flash appeared overhead. Suddenly, three figures dropped and seemed baffled as they glared at the undead.
     “What kind of Walking Dead crap is this? I knew I shouldn’t have gone into that public bathroom. Being sucked down a toilet is the worst Alice in Wonderland reincarnation ever.”
     The Creepers darted at the averaged sized, scruffy faced man and the two cats by his side. The three ran and decided to divide. They figured their best bet would be to get the horde into separate groups, so they could throw them for loops.
     “Ha! You two have nothing on the cat. Falling for the oldest trick in the book, crashing together and falling flat.”
     “Don’t get too cocky, Orlin. This doesn’t seem to be some run of the mill blog adventure.”
     Trucker looked on astounded as the cats began to speak, he thought he was losing his mind from his wounds, from which the blood continued to leak. It had pooled around him and the lights were growing dim, as all the Creepers went after the moving bait and tried to make Pat and the cats suffer the same fate. Trucker’s vision began to blur but he still watched the black spotted cat with the golden fur, taunt and tease the zombies with ease. He even threatened to put fleas on their knees. The grey tabby with a white shaped patch on her chest, zipped from east to west. Not a hair was out of place as she kicked the Creepers in their knees and then once more in the face.
     “Orlin, did you fart?” Pat asked as he looked around and once more a cloud of fog was found. Pat could not see a thing but continued to let the stick he picked up fling. The cats could still see through the fog and both realized this was not some adventure for the blog. Things seemed to be more dire and they noticed Pat about to expire.
     “Duck, Pat! That is an order from the cat.”
     “Orlin, do you have to keep referring to yourself as the cat?”
     The two argued as they ran in for the save and kicked the Creeper in the teeth preventing Pat from landing in an early grave. Pat stabbed the moving Creeper with the stick and the fog, which was ever so thick, disappeared as the Creeper gave a final groan. The three looked around realizing they were all alone. “What could have happened this time, as this was no ordinary rhyme.” Is what went through their head, as they looked over Trucker who was just about dead. They knew the rules of “once bitten you don’t come back” and prepared to end Trucker with an attack.
     “Immun..nn..ee..” Trucker muttered as he slipped unconscious before the three and they stopped to help him, deciding to flee.
     “Pat, what if he is really isn’t immune?”
     “Then I shove this stick through his zombie eye.”
     “You make him fry but can a dead thing once again die?”
     The three bickered as Pat carried Trucker the best he could, lose a few pounds this science geek, fireman cross really should. They searched for some place to hide and tried to figure out what or who had brought them across the divide. They noticed how everything had pretty much died and each knew this was going to be one wild ride.
****************************************     “Dr. Zoggif, sir! I think the matter converter has had a malfunction. We detected foreign matter in the stream.” The Lab Tech stated as she stared at the results of their test, she knew they had tried their best but something went wrong. Yet Dr. Zoggif sang a different song.
     “Bullocks! Everything went just as it was supposed to. You just weren’t supposed to see that. Why must you always be so smart?”
     The Lab Tech’s eyes widened to the size of her face, as Dr. Zoggif wrapped his hands around her neck in a tight embrace. She tried to shake free and shout out a final plea, but his mammoth sized hands were too large and he remained in charge. He smiled as the life slipped from her eyes and he finally heard no more of her muffled cries.
     “You’ve eaten your last chocolate my dear, Robyn. If only you would have took a break when I told you too.”
     Dr. Zoggif tossed her body into the rainbow looking matter stream and it vaporized to dust as soon as it hit the beam. His overbearing laugh echoed throughout his lab, as he stood looking as if with one hand he could flip over a cab.
     “Now those of the blogverse will finally get what is coming to them. I will destroy them all and then move on to my true targets. Goodbye and good riddance.”
     Dr. Zoggif gave a sly smirk as he simply hit a button on his machine and blogs from around the world went barren and no more words on them were seen. He glared at the beam and knew with this task he was one step closer to his dream.
****************************************     “Pat! He’s awake. Get ready to stab him with your stake.”
     “Orlin, you don’t need to impress at the moment. So stop with the rhyme!”
     Trucker’s sight was still a little off as he began to cough. Pat stood over him ready to strike should Trucker go all zombie like. Instead he waved the dust from his face and stood up thinking he was in some Twilight Zone crazy place.
     “They can talk? Clearly I’m not as immune to the Creeper bites as I thought.”
     “Try living with them. It was bad enough before but ever since Gawker Island they won’t shut up.”
     “Pat, don’t you try and offend the cat.”
     Trucker still had little clue about what had come due. We all knew this was some ploy and there was some big bad out there getting some joy. Having been through the ringer a time or ten, we all knew it would be a while before we were in the comfort of our den.
     “I have to admit, this is the first time we’ve been thrown into some Dawn of the Dead type situation though. What was up with the fog?”
     “That and those Creepers you see out there are all my doing. I wanted to help the world but instead I ended it.”
     “Leave it to humans to screw things up. You guys are more pathetic than a butt sniffing pup.”
     “Are you sure there isn’t an off switch? What made them speak?”
     “Trust me I’ve looked for some Hello Again voodoo curse. Nothing seems to work. As far as the speaking goes, well….”
     Orlin and Cassie perked up their ears and then hunched down from their zombie fears. It seemed no one was going to get answers today as more zombies were coming their way. Rotting arms started rattling the walls, as they gave off their hunger calls. Then one with huge arms busted through. He was like some zombie Rambo leading his expendable crew.
     “What the hell is that?”
     “A Creeper with super strength.”
     “So you are telling me these zombies have powers?”
     “Sadly, that is pretty much the size of it. Have you three been living under a rock?”
     Pat and the cats both stood in awe, not believing what they heard or saw. Trucker could not understand what the big deal was, as for months the Creepers have been a buzz. He was more concerned over two talking cats and how they were going to scurry away like rats.
     “What I wouldn’t give for a good cozy rock. Quick Pat, throw them a stinky sock.”
     “Orlin, what is that going to do? Blind them. Pat, we have to run. There are too many of them.”
     Trucker stood ready to fight once more. He seemed to have a death wish or was an attention whore. He told the Creepers to come and get some, as he picked up a board and said a prayer to the lord. Pat looked for a way out. But nothing seemed to happen until he heard a familiar shout.
     “Drazin has to save you fleabags and the nutcase again. Why do you keep dragging Drazin into these things.”
     The roof smashed in as the zombies began to storm the hideaway. Pat and the cats were never so glad to hear Drazin’s third person display. He dropped down a rope from the smashed in hole. The cats scurried up, yelling for Pat to ignore Trucker’s goal.
     “Come with us if you want to live.” Pat shook his head over what he said. “I didn’t mean to go all movie wannabe there. You won’t survive this. Drazin may be a bald headed nutcase that thinks he’s a god. But I’ll take his goatee stroking ass over zombies any day.”
     “Go! I will hold them off. This is my fate, I will not run from it. I will not hide. These Creepers are my doing and I have to stop them or die trying.”
     “So melodramatic. You are a regular…” Pat gave an expression of what the hell as he was pulled from the overrun zombie cell.
     “Drazin has no time for heroes. Drazin wants to get the hell out of here.”
     “For once I agree with the godly one.”
     “Yeah Pat, that guy down there has the brains of a gnat.”
     Pat stood looking down the hole as Trucker fought off the zombies that continued to stroll. He watched as the Rambo zombie came charging in determined he was going to win. He busted the wall and the whole building started to shake. The group felt like they were in an earthquake.
     “Let’s go!” Pat yelled and everyone took off for god only knows where. Zombies with powers was surely something they never thought they’d come across away from their lair. They jumped to the next building before it all turned to dust. It looked like Trucker’s attempt to stop the zombies went bust. Thankfully the zombies all fried in the collapse too. At least those ones, as they spotted many more coming into view.
     “This is ridiculous. Give me Gawker Island any day.”
     “Did Drazin ever say how much Drazin hates zombies?”
     “I thought they’d be right up your alley. Slow and dumb, they must be distant relatives.”
     “Shut up, fleabag, or Drazin will use you as bait.”
     “Now is not the time. Let’s get out of here before this is my last rhyme.”
     The group all climbed down as fast as they could and headed off into the woods. The zombies all crowded around the building debris. Not noticing as the group continued to flee. Pat thought about what dumb zombies could do with powers, as the cats stopped to chow down on some flowers. Drazin simply muttered away and all any of them wanted was to get back home to stay.
                                           ****************************************
     “That’s the last of it, Brian. The dVerse bar is now officially dry on everything. What are we going to do? It’s been months and no help has come.”
     Mary leaned over the bar staring at the tip jar. She tried to wrap her head around how a bar could disappear and then reappear in this land of fear. One moment she and the others were logging on to their blog and then came a fog. The next she knew they were all here and she felt the end was drawing near.
   The others crowded around Brian looking for answers to their plight. He wished his Mohawk had not grown to such a height. Not really wanting to be in charge but he accepted the responsibility as the bar was his barge. Things were so much easier when his co-owner Claudia was around. But sadly she was buried in the ground. She had suffered a blow in the first zombie attack one which from she could never come back.
     "We will stick together and get supplies." Brian declared to the group, like they would easily find soup.  He wished he could just gawk and write about it all but he had used up all the space on the bathroom wall.
     "That is your best advice? Find food? Where did you get that idea? Off of a fortune cookie?" The Poetry Critic sat smoking a cigarette. Death from lung cancer would be a good bet, but with zombies about he had no want to put them out.
     "No one asked you!"
     "Yeah, shut up!"
     "Feisty crowd today." The Poetry Critic smiled from ear to ear and then gave all a look of fear. Zombie arms busted through the dVerse bar wall. They yanked The Poetry Critic through and he was served up the zombies mess hall.
    "A fate all critics should enjoy." Mary snickered and ran off with the group out the back door. They did not want to explore, but their home was soon over run, each of them wishing they had a big gun.

************************
And there we are. Another story beginning at my bar. Pat, the cat, Cassie and the Drazin loon. I'm sure many will join this zombie sand dune. I guess it is an October thing as the long ones start this time of year at my wing. Did too much come to pass? Once in a while I have to be a mouthy little rhyming ass.
Later all, have a nice fall.

Quite The Scene On Your Screen!

So with Halloween month now in full swing and the old Halloween Nazi giving her ring, the cat figured such monsters have to be insecure at their sea, after all, like the Halloween Nazi, they are creepy.


Insecure at your sea?Just go crazy like me.What? You can't do that?Damn, making me work at my mat.
Frankenstein you're not.You don't shout a lot.Or at least shout it's alive.Unless you step in a bee hive.
Dracula sure does suck.See, you are in luck.He sucks more than anyone.Now go have fun.
Mummies are so great.That all have a common trait. They are wrapped in TP.That is worse than thee.
Werewolves have fleas,From their head to their knees.Plus they howl and scratch,Giving themselves a bald patch.
So you top them,And their phlegm.Unless maybe if you are bald too.Then you can be blue.
Zombies are grand.They trot across the land.They eat and never get fat.They can easily go splat.
But no matter how much you stink,You aren't the missing link.They have you beat.They have stinky zombie feet.
The creature of the black lagoon,Even scares a dish and spoon.One look and it makes them crack.So no need for a heart attack.
At least you can see a blue lagoon,And go out at noon.That will perk you up,Like a butt sniffing pup.
Insecurity all gone now? See, the cat can give a good meow. Just remember when push comes to shove, you can never stink or suck as much as the above. Now my wisdom has come to pass and even the Halloween Nazi got a dig from my little rhyming ass.
Later all, have a nice fall.

Wishing You Well On The Highway To Hell!

The frog just had to belt out another tune. I guess he crossed the border to the land of this loon. He didn't seem to like it very much. I guess those loonies are weird to the touch. Maybe he needs a better ride. I'm sure that cold shrank his umm pride.


I've boarded the highway,
The highway to hell.
The border is lost,
I'm under a spell.

They took my gun,
no right to bear arms.
Those bright red mounties
Must make great fire alarms.

I had to steal monopoly,
Because my money is no good.
These bill colors are so bright,
They can't be misunderstood.

I'm on the highway,
The highway to hell.
Where is the border,
This place has a weird smell.

Maple syrup is on everything.
From chocolate to toast.
Out in the mountains of snow,
There is even a maple syrup weenie roast.

Give me my Canadian bacon,
Wait! There is none of that here.
Could Americans have invented that?
Get me out of this hemisphere.

I'm on the highway
The highway to hell.
Where is the border,
Is this some kind of wishing well?

It asks for a loonie,
Do I have to go insane?
What, now a toonie?
How do I get out of this lane.

What does that sign say?
The damn thing is in french.
When did I leave Canada,
And end up in a France trench?

I'm on the highway,
The highway to hell.
Where is the border,
Is that wearing a bell?

A man riding a moose.
That is sure a first.
And now comes a polar bear,
Quenching its thirst.

Some sort of civilization, at last.
Wait! I call a retraction on that.
They are throwing rocks at rocks,
And sweeping ice like some dingbat.

I'm on the highway,
The highway to hell.
Where is the border,
What's that they sell?

Get my very own igloo,
Two for the price of one?
Free tickets to hockey,
Is life on ice that fun?

Beer cooled in the snow,
A sight on every lawn.
Where is my gun?
I'll shoot myself, if not out of here before dawn.

I'm on the highway,
The highway to hell.
There is the border,
I've taken my last friendly farewell.

I'm off the highway,
The highway to hell.
I have my gun back,
And Eh, I survived hell.

There is yet another tune at my sand dune. Just popped in the other day so gave it a go in the usual smart ass way. Ever been on such a highway to hell? Maybe tickets to moose rides I should sell? It would sure save on gas and make some money for my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

Let's All Sing A Long To When Headers Go Wrong!

So many have seen the cat's face on many a header at my place. There are many versions of me and even some of thee. Almost 20 or so you will randomly get here. Wouldn't it be scary to have 20 versions of my little rhyming rear? But not all go right. Warning, may offend your sight.

You may have seen this.This was a bit of a miss.But I used it in fun.Hey, scared everyone. Need to scare the rats away,Or to Mary Kirkland's bay,Feel free to grab and use.Pat's man boobs can abuse. That is the drawback,About working with those from the cheap shack.They barely speak English at all.You never know what you'll get to put on the wall.    Case and point!Want this on top of my joint?Grammar Nazi as santa is at play.I'm sure that would make his day.
Not even sure who the jailbird is.Maybe I should throw a pop quiz?Grammar Nazi is throwing the book at him though.Then look at the other two that show.
One was supposed to have a numb tongue.Looks like she really popped a lung.Rather umm err busty too.Betsy, will a whoopsy do?
Then that is supposed to be a worm.Around ones neck it does squirm.She is rather umm err busty too.Manzi sure dropped a decade or two.
Then there is the cat.I can be as regal as that.But I may not have such comic flare.Plus I have different color hair.

Some just turn out like this,Good, but a bit of a miss.Not as provocative as above though. Grammar Nazi may sure give a ho ho ho.
And now I leave you with a final one.It will sure make you run.Cover your eyes while you are able.This one won't ever go in a fable.

Damn, Pat has some hairy arm pits. I will grab the hair and rip it to bits. So were you scared today? Some of those, mainly Pat, sure had to make you want to run away. Now I will goes wash my eyes and let loose some gas, straight out my ever so regal little rhyming ass.
Later all, have a nice fall.

The Only One Under The Sun?

Don't you find it grand when all across the land nuts think there is only one answer for something? I guess admitting they are wrong or there is another way must sting?

That is the way.
Join the fray.
It is 100% fact.
That is how you act.

That is how you speak.
That is how you take a leak.
Don't think another way.
Just do what I say.

PC is the way to be.
Don't disagree with me.
Go with the flow,
Then you'll be in the know.

That is the way you get ahead.
That is the way things should be read.
That is the way you live your life.
That is who you want for your wife.

Don't question a thing.
Stay oblivious at your wing.
Just do what is said.
Don't worry your pretty little head.

That is what is wrong.
That is the correct song.
That is how you march.
Don't add too much starch.

That is what you eat.
That is a fine treat.
That GMO is great.
There is no reason for hate.

That you can watch.
That is a clear botch.
Do it again,
Or I'll break out the red pen.

That is how you learn.
That is how you take your turn.
That is how you nod.
That is how you pray to God.

This is how it is done.
This is how you have fun.
This is the way it must be.
No other solution for thee.

Isn't it fun that with this or that is exactly how everything must be done? Always some sort of guideline on how things should run, even if there is another way or something else you want to say. But nope, fluoride heads hang onto the rope. That is the way that must come to pass. Pffffft is all that needs to be said by my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.

Weird And Wacky, Maybe Even Tacky!

You know where you can go as I have said at my show. But what can you do if you want some dough at your zoo? Easy as can be. You can dance naked with glee. Don't believe me? Just wait and see.

You can do this or that,
To be a rich cat.
Or at least get some pocket change,
There on your range.

Write anything on a cookie.
That would impress a wookie.
Do a Mickey Mouse impression.
Maybe some type of confession?

Dance like a horse holding a sign.
My, wouldn't that be divine?
Be an eye popper!
Might call a copper.

Be a redneck and get drunk.
You already seen that funk.
Say anything while washing dishes.
My, I can see the wishes.

Do 5 pushups with a child on your back.
That is a winner at every shack.
Text someone a picture of your creepy face.
That is one all must embrace.

Hit your friend in the stomach or face.
That sure will be bought at a high pace.
Send you positive thoughts.
That will be bought lots.

Write your message and make a creepy doll hold it.
That one will be an instant hit.
Cast an ancient return love spell.
Warning, you may end up in hell.

Be your night owl friend.
Awww bet it's a growing trend.
For 30 minutes I will chat about anything.
Yep, growing like talking through cups and string.

Share my favorite fake blood recipe.
Oh golly gee whiz, will thee?
Prank call someone for you.
Oops, caller ID came due.

Make a crazy face.
Another face embrace.
Run mayonnaise on my fat belly and sing happy birthday!
Ummm errr okay!

See, there is much you can do to make some dough at your zoo. Sadly, yes all of these are true. They are being done just for you. Would you not like the last? I bet it would be a umm blast. I guess you could do all in mass, just don't tell my little rhyming ass.

Later all, have a nice fall.