OverAchievers Working OverTime


In the East, some were quick to deduce
There was no hope at all for the ‘Cuse
            Till their seven OT’s
            Bested UConn’s and WV’s –
But then…the Orange ran out of juice.

                               —Orange Nonymous


Worse Than the Flu

I called to work and said,
"I'm staying home in bed.
I think I've got the flu,
The sniffles, or. . .ah-h--CHOO!
I'll rest now, cuz I'm sick;
Then I'll get better quick." 

    But one of my coworkers said,
    "How like a man to stay in bed!
    A woman would be up and off,
    Unhampered by a sneeze or cough!
    Those aches and fevers she ignores
    And keeps on with her daily chores."

So into work I sneak-ed,
Though looking rather peaked,
And told them with a sigh,
"I really will.  I'll try."
Then in my cube I hid,
And tried to work.  I did.

    Then said the next, with obvious irk,
    "How like a man to come to work--
    And spread his germs so he can see
    That everyone gets sick as he.
    He can't be happy 'til he's through
    Infecting all the world with flu." 

Now, really, these two give
Not much alternative:
Be known as Typhoid Mouse,
Or Chief Wimp of the House.
My choice between the two?
I'd rather have the flu.

                               --A. A. Mouse


HI 'ku

Haiku, Hawaii...
Winter: 82 degrees!
Not safe for snowmen.

                    —Anonaii Mouse


February Twenty-Nine And Holding


I May Have Had More Birthdays, But You'll Always Be Older

February nine and twenty
Comes round just each quadrennium;
Except at times an even cent'ry,
It hardly misses any o' 'em.

And too, the weekday it appears
Is never once repeated,
Till after 28 full years
Its circuit is completed.

Though few your birthdays, I'll allow
(Fourteen of them, all told),
You've finished two full cycles now—
I think that makes you "old".

                            —Oh, Brothermouse

                                                                           © 2004

King Bill's Trial

King Bill was not a good man, he had his little ways;
And once the Congress spoke of him for days and days and days.
The hearings went for months, in deliberations long
To scrutinize each Starry note;
Soon followed the impeaching vote,
In hope the Senate would demote the king for all his wrong.

King Bill was not a good man, yet had his hopes and fears.
They'd shown him no bipartisanship now for years and years and years.
And if he'd thought his statement out, instead he would have written:
And signed it not with "WILLIAM C.", but, very humbly, "CLI'TON".

"I want victory over Iraq, and be a 'Yankee-doodle dandy';
I think peace in Kosovo would come in handy;
I don't mind an education plan that some think is nuts,
And I SHOULD like a budget that really has cuts.
And, oh! Justice Renquist, if you love me even a little,
Bring me a big, bipartisan india-rubber-stamped acquittal!"

King Bill was not a good man—he thought he had atoned
For all his sins committed when good sense he had disowned.
He couldn't bear to watch when neared the ending of the trial,
Despite that polls showed high approval
And called for censure, not removal;
The chance remained for some reproval from both sides of the aisle.

"Forget about Iraq, and being 'Yankee-doodle dandy';
I'm sure that peace in Kosovo would never come in handy;
I know my education plans are really kind of nuts,
And I HAVE got a budget that almost has cuts.
But, oh! Justice Renquist, if you love me even a little,
Bring me a big, bipartisan india-rubber-stamped acquittal!"

King Bill was not a good man—next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world the trial had begun,
And people seized their newspapers and opened them with glee,
And news and stocks and sports appeared
And more names through the muck were smeared
King Bill said grimly: "As I feared, no acquittal yet for me!"

"I did want to beat Iraq, and be a 'Yankee-doodle dandy';
I know peace in Kosovo would come in handy;
I love my education plans, even if they're nuts,
I haven't got a budget—not one with cuts.
And, oh! if Justice Renquist had loved me even a little,
He would have brought a big, bipartisan india-rubber-stamped acquittal!"

Then finally on that Friday, down through the Senate's roster,
They failed to convict the king and thus achieve his ouster.
How ironic to acquit a man who from the truth would shy,
Coinciding (almost) with President's Day
Which honors Lincoln ("Honest A.")
And Washington who (some would say) never told a lie.



                                                                                                                                  © 1999

...And With Good Reason

We give our Presidents one Day
To honor all they do and say—
At least those things selective memory
Allows us to account exemplary.

We hail the Father of our Nation,
And Jefferson's great Declaration,
But don't remember Mart Van Buren
Whose fame was not that long endurin'.

We think of Lincoln who was shot
(Not Ford, however, who was not)
And Teddy, who could shoot a bear—
Unless it were just tethered there.

There've also been Vice Presidents
Worthy of remember-ance,
Like Stevenson and Burr—oh, say…
Perhaps, should they have their own day?

Remember Colfax, Fairbanks, Dawes—
Such names are sure to give us pause—
Wheeler, Breckinridge, and Gore,
Need I list you any more?

Marshall, Mondale, Morton, Dallas,
All lived in the V.P. palace,
Serving valiantly and decently,
At least we thought so, up till recently.

Dick Cheney shot his hunting buddy
And made his face and shirt all bloody—
Ironically, while hunting Quail…
Ah—that DOOMS "Vice-Presidents Day" to fail!

                                      —Anon A. Mouse

                                                                                   © 2006

The Sloppy Bowl

There once was a game in the rain
In the land of the foul hurricane;
              They played there to crown,
              If they all didn't drown,
The champs of the football campaign.

The game went okay, all in all,
Though they couldn't hold onto the ball:
              The pigskin was greasy,
              And fans were uneasy
At the thought of a long free-for-all.

But Chicago stopped coughing it up,
So then Rex Grossman stepped up
              And floated a pair
              Of errors-by-air…
Allowing the Colts to clean up.

But credit where credit is due:
Cuz ol' Peyton Manning and crew
              Showed wherewithal
              On both sides of the ball,
Silencing the critic hitherto.

                             —Anon A. Mouse

                                                      © 2007

Primaries? What Primaries?


When They Said “Super Tuesday”, I Thought They Meant They’d Moved the Game from Sunday

I watch one football game a year –
               That “Super Bowl” affair –
And shout and yell and cry and cheer,
               Though I don’t know one player.

Well, guess I’ve heard of one or two,
               Whose names their fans all love;
But no idea what they’ll do
               When push has come to shove.

That Brady fella – what’s he do?
               He stands there so defiant;
His line won’t let nobody through—
               Except, perhaps, a Giant.

And Eli – when’d he get so good?
               His brother must be jealous
And think that he himself, too, should
               Be there with his Colt fellas.

Will New England finish nineteen-zero
               And end up rich and famouth?
Or will plucky Giants find a hero
               In David-Eli-Namath?

It’ll all come out before my eyes
               In Sunday’s Super show,
On a field I don’t recognize
               By players I don’t know.

Cuz weekly football I don’t see,
               Because I’m just not able.

OK. It’s cuz we’ve no TV.
               (Well really, just no cable.)

                                —O. Nonamath

                                                                       © 2008