How irritating! Tell her to work for her accolades!

I stand corrected. You had two options.
My password is password.

Shit’s going down tonight!
Literally. I am going to take a **** on her front porch

You have only one option. You must burn her house down.
My password is password.

Thanks : )
And hey, god damn chatgpt is stealing us lyrical masters’ joy for existence! I posted a limerick for my husband’s birthday that people liked. A woman I work with then sent a work email with one (she’s on my page so I assumed I inspired it) and I told her I liked it and she said she used chatgpt (or whatever app). And then today, she posted a limerick for her sister’s birthday and so I’m assuming that’s chatgpt, too! But damn it, everyone loves it and she’s getting equal credit as me. Fuck that

Also, I'm glad you're back!

Thanks! The beginning of my lim reminds me of the Shaft theme song:

Who's the black private dick that's a sex machine to all the chicks?
Steve!
You damn right
Who is the man that would risk his neck for his brother man?
Steve!
Can you dig it?
Who's the cat that won't cop out when there's danger all about?
Steve!
Right on
They say this cat Steve is a bad mother –

Crystal, that was beautiful!

Brilliant!

The man who looks like a tuber
Could barely fit in his Uber
He was too ghey
To visit Conway
So he made his evasive maneuver

His demise will be pretty soon
If he meets up with hungry at noon
He is only 5’4”
But wide as a door
And resembles a filthy baboon

Thanks, you Filthy Baboon!

Fan-****ing-tastic!

Who never backs down from a fight?
With firm abs and buttocks so tight?
He's a comedy king
Always wins in the ring
If you guessed it's Steve, you'd be right!

Ah, I see you support the mocking of Fugazi. I expect a full onslaught of retaliation any moment now …
My password is password.

We need more.
“There are no atheists in foxholes, eh?”-Keith Jennings from the Omen.

10/10 for both!

Excellent! Bloody TWD poets!

He barks from the couch like a king,
Demands she bring every dumb thing.
He’s bitter and loud,
Entitled and proud—
Yet never has earned a damn thing.

Fugazi, a couch-bound old chap,
Lives life in a chips-and-snooze trap.
No job, not a care,
He won’t climb a stair—
His sister just sighs at his nap.

Not bad. It scans, at least.

THE MAN FROM NANTUCKET WAS I
MY COCK IS THE SIZE OF A THIGH
I FILLED UP YOUR SISTER
WHO ADDRESSED ME AS MISTER
VERILY GUARANTEE IT DO I

Facts.

Many don't scan, though. He can't be matched for volume and wit, I'll grant.