Brain Still Idling

The parody of Anchors Aweigh is now as finished as it's every going to be:

Wankers all night, and then . . .
Wankers all day!
You know those Navy men—
They masturbate their lives away.
At first—pre-ejaculate;
Then—creamy foam.
(Keep whites immaculate
By shipping all your dirty laundry home.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

I'm fond of the repeated then, which gives the thing some balance. And, while it may mystify my public (if any), nothing tickles me like ribaldry expressed in "high" language: masturbate and pre-ejaculate. One of my favorite limericks ends, And they argued all night/As to who had the right/To do what, and with which, and to whom. That prissy accusative, whom, always sends me into ecstasies of merriment.

But enough. A blog is no place to express oneself.

Facebook Fallout

The subject of birthers has arisen on Facebook, and today prompted the following, with apologies to Dorothy Parker:

A roving American mama,
While sojourning one day in Kenya,
Gave birth to Barack H. Obama--
And I, folks, am Vincent Gardenia.

Verse © Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

An Idle Brain Is The Devil's Workshop

This morning, while I was waiting for a bus, the following slowly oozed into the ol' cerebrum like warm molasses. To the tune of Anchors Aweigh:

Wankers all day, my boys;
Wankers all day.
When naval duty cloys,
We masturbate our lives away.
So first—pre-ejaculate;
Then—creamy foam.
(Keep whites immaculate
By shipping all your dirty laundry home.)

Lyric © 2009 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov

It's a rough draft, I suppose--I don't much care for cloys, and so is mere filler; but I don't regret having added three extra syllables in place of the original day-ay-ay-ay.

A few scraps of ideas came to me a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't had time to work 'em out. You may watch this space for further developments, but don't hold your breath while doing so.