Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:
Barry’s Halloween costume’s a zinger.
It requires barely lifting a finger.
Haven’t you heard, man?
He’s going as Birdman,
As a gesture for every right-winger.
From the archive:
“I may act like Elmer Fudd
And appear to be a dud,
But I’m truly spectacular,
The awesome Count Barackula,
And I want to suck your blood.”
HOUSE OF HORRORS
By the demons we all have been taunted
As unnatural powers were flaunted,
But the townsfolk will rout
And then drive the fiends out
Of the House on the Hill that is haunted.
GETTING WHAT WE ASK FOR
Halloween we all shout “Trick or Treat!”
As we hit every house on the street.
The next morning we wake
With a bad stomach ache,
‘Cause we had too much candy to eat.
INCREDIBLE SHRINKING WOMAN
On a fantasy Hillary fed
‘Til reality reared its huge head:
As her poll numbers drop,
She will have to close shop
And admit that her life’s dream is dead.
With the change in the House status quo, see
The new Madame Speaker Pelosi
Enduring the glare
With the crazed, glassy stare
Of a transgendered Bela Lugosi.
NIGHT OF THE VOTING DEAD
“We’ll be summoned from slumberous state
To endorse the quadrennial slate;
Then it’s back to the grave,
Where we’ll try to behave
‘Til the conclave of 2008!”
The polls open and who comes in?
Mary Poppins and Mickey Finn,
Then Betty Boop
And Alley Oop,
Sherlock Holmes and Gunga Din!
THE GREAT BUMPKIN
Linus scans the nightscape scary
For a form imaginary:
There, looming tall
Like an orange ball,
Glows a pumpkin-colored Kerry!
What compares to the horrible fright
That will haunt us on Halloween night?
Consider the fear,
As elections draw near,
Ghoulish candidates soon will excite!
There once was a man named Vlad
Who was known for a habit he had:
With such pride in his nailing,
When he took to impaling
No one ever would challenge his chad.
WHAT IS IT, E-GORE?
The mad doctor was testing a drug
When he felt on his labcoat a tug:
“Master, oh Master,
We’ve got to work faster
To destroy the Millennium Bug!”
From justice they craftily fled
And avoided the sanctions they dread;
Now O.J. and Bill
Can linger at will
In the night of the fast-living dead.
Last week’s limerick:
Now you’re covered to end this “condition”
And can freely forestall all fruition;
Still, you think that just maybe
You might opt for a baby,
But Obamacare won’t grant permission.