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01/26/26   
Two bit, low down, rotten, dirty happiness

Elephant Wings

by Dr. Malcolm Zooter
bio/email
February 18, 2002
An elephant is a beast
With tiny wings, to say the least.
By tiny wings, I mean so small
Some would say
elephants have none at all.
Nor would they claim
that it's mouth hangs
All menacing with silver fangs.
And few would say
That elephants float.
And some would claim
It's 'cause they don't.

But who can know an elephant,
All mysterious and stealthy?
And who's to say they don't have thumbs,
Were you to find one healthy?

I've heard it said
In whispered tones
That elephants don't have hollow bones.
What arrogance! What if we found
The hollow ones live underground?
Or that their bones are filled with mice
That when they die turn white and nice?

Wouldn't you feel like an ass
If we found elephants were made of glass?
Or that they sound like whales
When given to sing?
Still think you know everything?

What if their trunk, thought just a tooter,
Was found to be a supercomputer?
Or that they live in cities and drive big cars,
And the elephants have been to Mars,
When they colonized all of deep space.
How do you like the egg on your face?

Sunny side-up or over easy?


Quote of the Day
“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. They have to, because let's face it—you're never going to support yourself as a fucking poet, cheech.”

-B.S. Eliode
Fortune 500 Cookie
Expect a big upturn in your finances when a bag of silver dollars dropped from a skyscraper nearly kills you. People flock to your show when The New York Times calls you "Stomp for people who wish Stomp would just fucking die already." The court case is decided this week and you now legally have bragging rights. Lucky meat substitutes: Soy, tofu, tofurkey, a McDonald's hamburger.

Try again later.
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