God Only Nose

by Mortimer Wendell

September 2, 2002

A nose is a nose is a nose.
Wouldn't one by any other name smell
just as well?
What the hell.
Call it a hogglebottom
and it still smells the sweets.
Call it a snot locker,
still a nose-shaped hunk o' meat
stapled to your face right where God intended.
Just think if your cheeks were where your face ended!
How strange! How ugly! How inconvenient! How loathe!
Why, if you had to sneeze then you'd damn near explode!
And with no nose there to handle the chore
of absorbing the impact of a sliding glass door,
with no nose you'd smack your eyeballs right on the glass,
and with a squeegeeing sound you'd fall right on your ass.
I won't have it! I don't want it! I'll keep my nose please!
For blowing! And scratching! And sticking in trees!
I won't blow my eyes, that'd be unsatisfying
and if I said I knew how, you would know I was lying.
Look at Cher! Look at Jacko! No nose makes you evil!
At least, with it half gone, you look like a huge weevil.
You can follow your nose on to wondrous places
and without it to cut off, how would we spite our faces?
So say no to nose jobs, say yes to those jobs
that honor your nose like a rose, and ignore those mobs
of humorless, noseless, sick shallow slobs
who's faces are featureless, doughy white blobs
who shout "Cut it off, hack it off, give it to charity!"
Say "Brother, please quit now and cease your hilarity.
A nose is a wonderful, beautiful gem
that some say relates to the size of yourâ€¦ ahem.
So treasure it, unless you are sickly with sniffles and cough,
then break out the band saw and please cut mine off!"

Quote of the Day

“Christ on a bike! Did anybody else see that guy that looked just like Jesus Christ riding by on a bicycle a minute ago?”

-LeVonn Marthers

Fortune 500 Cookie

Last week was your best week; sorry we're late getting to you about that. From here on out, your life's gonna be shit on chips. Your dreams of becoming a major baseball star will be derailed this week by the fact that you couldn't hit a cow in the ass with a shovel. Stop using the term "Gay Bash," at once: it does not mean a fun party for homosexuals. This week's lucky Bings: Crosby, Chandler, Bada, cherries, the sound of a superball being shot out of an air cannon into an old woman's neck flap.

Try again later.

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