Tits are in the Eye of the Beholder

by Ty Higgins

January 6, 2003

I think that I shall never pass
a poem as lovely as an ass
or a verse that weighs as heavy
as a buck-naked supermodel
straddling a Chevy
How could course words
ever capture the heaven
of the classic Maxim issue #7?
No match has a poet's mind thought
for the work God
and boob doctors hath wrought
on the chest of some
milky-white maiden
a blank canvas now silicone-laden
How could Wordsworth
ever be so divine
as that chick on the cover of Maxim #9?
He probably never got a girl so immaculate
if the portrait in our book is at all accurate
Everyone knows guys only turn to poems
and learning of xylems and phloems
and spending their time curing cancers
and knowing the names of ballet dancers
when their chances of scoring have vanished
and their boring old asses are banished
You may be there, teach-I'd say you are
I've seen that shitbox you call a car
You'd pick up more ladies in a hearse
and that suit that you wear's even worse
So I'm glad you've got books-'cuz you need 'em
to forget you're not getting laid while you read 'em
And me, all I need is to pass
even if I was reading a Penthouse in class
I need you to hook me up, teach, no doubt
'cuz I hear college girls are the ones who put out.

Milestones

1969: Red Bagel finds true calling when he stumbles on to faked moon landing being filmed in his local neighborhood YMCA.

Now Hiring

Ring-Bearer. Seeking meek carrier of unholy evil, pure of heart and with will to accomplish impossible deed. Three references and two years of experience necessary, start at minimum wage.

Top Cruel New Rumors

1.	Gay people can't whistle
2.	Tennessee quarter shows state trooper harassing black motorist
3.	French Stewart not actually French
4.	Cats love vodka
5.	Donald Trump is secret owner of McDonald's chain

Lunch Money
Listen up, Billy Olson I'm a drink you up like Molson make you sing like a fat Al Jolson grab your tits and milk 'em both, son. 'Cause you messed with the best I confess it's no test I am the real thing you will know the hurt I bring ... (12/23/02)

Thug Life
You can take your poetry class grind it into a meatball and cram it up your ass Mr. Costenoble, you fruity pebble prick. And Health teacher, I'm warning you to mind your own girth I could out-eat you since long before birth I had a... (12/9/02)

Spastic Gastric Function
"Spastic Gastric Function" is the social event of the year, bathe your Clydesdales in lite beer... Homeo-apathy as a viable career? Flaccid pansies? I'd eat them gladly. Anteaters play clarinets, from the trunks of blue corvettes, the... (11/25/02)