It's Dr. Suess Day and (not coincidentally)

#ReadAcrossAmerica Day. Perfect excuse to rerun some poetry from a long-ago writing exercise.



When I was a little kid, just about threeI liked to have Daddy read stories to mePertaining to doggies or bunnies or miceWith everything happy and cozy and nice
Now twenty years later as I lie in bedI look back again at the books Daddy readI see them on levels I didn’t beforeAnd see that those stories might be something more
As I was perusing those books of my pastI found some that left me agape and aghastThey had hidden meanings on every last pageSubliminal statements that filled me with rage
What author could merit such verbal abuse?That lovable hate-able doctor named Seuss!If you don’t believe me, I’ll now make you seeJust how controversial that doctor can be
Take Yertle the Turtle, whose constant obsessionWith ultimate power caused brutal oppressionYou wanna know why Doctor Seuss called him Yertle?It’s just because Stalin does not rhyme with turtle!
And then there's The Lorax, who, with desperationAttempted prevention of deforestation.That’s noble and downright courageous indeedExcept for the fact that he doesn’t succeed!What kind of a message does Doctor Seuss send?“Hey kids, you’re all gonna fail in the end!”
Hop on Pop is a terrible book which I fearHas problems that make themselves painfully clearI don’t think my father would be very keenOn me using him as a live trampolineWho knows just how many poor parents have diedTragic victims of second degree Hopicide
Oh, the Places You’ll Go! Now that book is worseIt maps out your future in pictures and verseExcept that it lies to you, straight to your faceI mean, I for one haven’t gone anyplaceI’ll tell you what Seuss should have written instead:“This life is a bitch and then one day you’re dead!”
And then there's the one book that makes me most illIt’s that ungodly tale that takes place in WhovilleWith a villain possessing an undersized heartIt’s a terrible insult to poetic art
Want to know why The Grinch is the book I malign?Dr. Seuss makes up words in almost every lineIf he starts a stanza and can’t seem to end itHe’ll think of a word and he’ll twist it and bend itIt’ll say something like “The Grinch took all their gadgetsAnd zoogle madingo dareefuh mawadgets!”
No matter what part of that story you readIt sounds as though Seuss had been smoking some weedAlso, you’d think that a doctor would knowIf your heart grows three sizes your chest will explode
With stories that crazy and messed up and wildI don't think that they should be read to a childIt may just sound cruel but the obvious fact isThat Dr. Seuss ought to be sued for malpractice!
--Evil Jr.

It was raining outside. There was nothing to do.So I reached in the slushpile and picked up a few.I looked at the first one and saw the first word to be"Oxymandicious"--which seemed quite absurd to me.Into the toilet it went with a flush--The very best place for the very worst slush.I looked at another one, hoping for greatness;The first word was "pachydermacronumateless."I picked up three more, but they all began nuttily:"Pickapoo," "Throgmistle," "Cragstormichuttiny."I wondered if writers had all become dunces,Remember when all stories started with Once's?If you want EE to get past the first word ofYour manuscript, start with a word that he's heard of.
--Evil Editor

In Publishing Town,Far down in its bowels,Lived a muttonchopped manWith quivery jowls.
Every day, minions--A hundred or more-- Surged to his officeAnd squeezed through the door.
They ogled and boggledIn mute adorationAmazed at his pince-nez,His fob, his vocation.
They said, "One day we'll"Work in Publishing too!"But they only had queries.Not one had a clue.
One morning, a minion,With query in hand,Dared lay it beforeThe muttonchopped man.
The muttonchopped manWith quivery jowlLooked down through his pince-nezAnd started to howl.
"It's awful!" he hollered."The plot is pathetic!"The setting is stupid!"The ending's emetic!
"This query's a fungus."It's covered in slop."You want to keep writing?"I beg you to stop."
"But sir," said the minion,All trembling and weak,"What if I edit it more--"So to speak?
"Some of the others"Are ever so wise--"He looked at the clusterOf ladies and guys--
"Couldn't we all take"My slop-covered fungus"And churn out just one"Decent query among us?"
"Do what you want,"Said the muttonchopped man."I'm going to take pictures"Of me on the can."
With the man on the canMinions all gathered roundAnd they rolled up their sleevesThere in Publishing Town
And they beat up that query!They gave it the works!They pounded its problems!They questioned its quirks!
They gutted its grammar!And when they were doneThat terrible queryShone like the sun.
He came out of the john.The minions were leery.He put down his cameraAnd picked up the query.
He peered through his pince-nez.He saw what they had.His jowls quivered gently."You know, this ain't bad."
The minions all cheered!They whooped and went wild!Even the muttonchopped manMight have smiled.
The minion strode offTo querying gloryBut did his book sell?Well...
...that's some other story.
--150