Ode to an Asshat
I’ll always have a special place
for dear asshats and tarts.
She went outside one rainy night
And dipped her hinder parts
Into a puddle filled with mud
And filled it up with farts.
Her hubby held her hands
to keep her balance, bless their hearts.
Tartsy was the one who gave me
My 1000th cheer.
I gathered up an army of
The distant and the near.
We struck like lighnting,
Bombing Tartsy, but she had no fear.
I think the bombs inspired dear Tarts
To dip in mud her rear.
Her goals—some wise, some funny,
And some poignant—always vary.
She throws some lurid things in too
Which keeps some readers wary.
But Tarts is Tarts and what the
Others think, she does not care-y.
I’m just glad that she’s the one
Who popped my cheerbomb cherry.
(Just to clarify, Rouenpucelle,
She bombed me first.
But once I had a taste of that
I had to slake my thirst.
So when my thousandth came along,
I thought I’d do my worst.
So I dropped bombs like cheesy rhymes
Get dropped down by Fred Durst.
(Tania was the alias
Of kidnapped Patty Hearst.)
If I don’t stop these rhymes
I fear my time here will be cursed.
I’ll rhyme and rhyme and rhyme and rhyme
Til my appendix burst.
And then I’ll rest, recline supine,
And let my wound be nursed.
