Gwen Petersen: In a Sow’s Ear 12-12-11 |

Gwen Petersen: In a Sow’s Ear 12-12-11

December: The holiday season when frazzled becomes a constant state of mind. The condition is not helped by all the hype that pours from TV, magazines, newspapers and nowadays one’s computer. The flow of garbage can’t be stopped. The following verses may be termed “Revenge Limericks.”

For example, is anybody else tired of diet this and diet that? In the final go-round, we’re all going to die no matter what we’ve eaten.

A corpulent person from Big Timber

Ate 39 pies with his dinner,

Then threw up all night

Till dawn’s early light,

His waistline is now a bit trimmer.

A fatso went out on a rampage,

And ate like a warthog for 10 days;

Now the food’s gone,

So he’s out on the lawn,

Searching for some place to overgraze.

Around the ranch: A new pup on

the premises can rouse murder in the gentlest heart.

A very young canine named, Jake

Stole half of cookies’ rum cake,

She pulled out a gun,

Shot Jake in the bun,

Then baked Jake a cake for his wake.

Cowgirls have their own ways of addressing relationship problems.

There once was a cowgirl named Susie,

Whose feller slipped off with a floozie,

Her temper did flare,

She shouted, “No fair!”

And popped him right in his doozie.

And cowboys, enamored of pie, are creatures we all know.

A cowboy who dearly loved pie

Swiped several slices from Di;

Though she was his wife,

Still he ran for his life

When she threatened to poke out his eye.

Meanwhile back at the ranch …

Income has dropped to mere trickles,

Cuz cows ain’t worth plugged nickels,

So, instead of bovines,

In these political times,

Ranchers will grow only pickles.

Does anyone else have the uneasy feeling that weirdoes and wackos are making the rules?

Always a good vegetarian,

He never ate cuisine agrarian;

Even so, he died

Eating eggplant, fried,

And carnivores smiled while buryin’ him.

There once was an occupier

Who claimed his status was dire

He camped in the park

Then made his mark

While babbling his right to pismire.

Politicians, hotly messing up the world, become prime entertainment irritants in December.

The candidate put wood on the fire,

And stood really close to admire,

He scorched his dear rear

Which brought forth a tear,

And ruined his natty attire.

Hear Perry’s and Trump’s and Cain’s

And Romney’s and Paul’s loud claims

Newt says he’s one

Who gets more done

Frankly, all are a little insane.

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