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August 5th, 2010

Bit of silliness

"Super Californication Extreme Diplodocus"
By = Tristan A. Arts
To the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

When sitting down in school one day, hard at work on math,
Feeling so stressed out I feared I'd need an epitaph,
My brain all tied in knots inside a rather fearsome graph,
I stopped before I went insane to have a little laugh!

Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus,
Just the very sound of it undoubtedly will croak us!
We mustn't tell the Mafia, for all of them will smoke us!
Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye!

When stone age men first chatted up under the dark night sky,
I bet they never cared a whit for calculating pi.
All they cared at all about was how to multiply,
Simple math I understand, but past that I ask "why?"

Then I say,

"Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus,
Say it now, don't have a cow, get on Facebook and poke us!"

"Stop!" the silly teacher shouts, "stop it now and focus!"

Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye!

Lewis Carrol was quite cool despite his math obsession,
Because he knew that silliness could be oh so refreshin,
And cryptographers, I will admit, have quite a cool profession,
But work all day without some play will lead to deep depression!

Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Dance a funny diddy with a cactus and a crocus!
Sniff your pits before you spit, while saying Hocus Pocus!
Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye,
Come piddle fiddles in your thumb-little eye!

(Spoken) Of course, if you say it backwards, it's "Diplodocus extreme Californication super," but that's going a bit far, don't you think?

So when a teacher teaching math puts your nose to the grindstone,
Quizzing you on algebra till you expose your fingerbones,
Or bores you half to death with his monotonous drone,
Go ahead, declare your head a surrealistic zone!

S-u-p-e-r C-a-l-i-f-o-r-n-i-c-a-t-i-o-n e-x-t-r-e-m-e D-i-p-l-o-d-o-c-u-s

S-u-p-e-r C-a-l-i-f-o-r-n-i-c-a-t-i-o-n e-x-t-r-e-m-e D-i-p-l-o-d-o-c-u-s

S-u-p-e-r C-a-l-i-f-o-r-n-i-c-a-t-i-o-n e-x-t-r-e-m-e D-i-p-l-o-d-o-c-u-s

S-u-p-e-r C-a-l-i-f-o-r-n-i-c-a-t-i-o-n e-x-t-r-e-m-e D-i-p-l-o-d-o-c-u-s

Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Just the very sound of it undoubtedly will croak us!
We mustn't tell the Mafia, for all of them will smoke us!
Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!
Super Californication, extreme Diplodocus!

Do cry for me, Sergeant Tina

"Do cry for me, Sergeant Tina"
By = Tristan A. Arts
To the tune of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina," Madonna version from the movie "Evita."

It won't be easy, you'll think it strange
When I try to explain how I feel
That I still need your love after all that I've done

You won't believe me
All you will see is your hatred renewed
With my whips, cat-o-nines
All sexy like Seven for you

I had to let it happen, I had to use chains
You couldn't stay all your life at my heels
Looking out for a window, any sliver of sun

So I denied you freedom
Running around, trying everyone new
But no one impressed me at all
I never expected them to

Chorus:

Do cry for me, Sergeant Tina
The truth is I never left you
Out on the highway
To cease existence
Since you show promise
You'll go the distance

And as for torture, and as for pain
You never invited them in
And it's true, like the world, they're all I desire

They aren't illusions
They're better than the solutions others offered to me
The answer was here all the time
I love your pain and hope you love me

Do cry for me, Sergeant Tina

(Backround Humming chorus)

(chorus)

Have I said too much?
There's nothing more I can think of to say to you.
But all you have to do is look at me to know
That every word is true

Won't be a loched post

My brain spat most of this out at me last night:

I have a friend who lives in Scotland, who has the mutant power to create large bodies of fresh water. His official title is loch-smith. He's a pretty Lomand on the corporate ladder, but he's happy there. He'd worked at a similar company before, but they were drowning in debt and so went belly-up. It was some pretty Nessy business, I hear.

He's originally from Germany, a kraut; he's pretty sour about that. He used to work in the cafeteria of a Catholic school at the deep friar. Oh, I forgot to mention his name is Herr Nett. He worked pretty hard there, but nun of his fellow employees had anything nice to say about him. Probably because he didn't like the job, and was always cross.

After getting fired there for giving the communion wafers a proper burial, he moved to Poland. He made a living for a while locking people into large safes, but soon realized that Pole vaulting wasn't for him. He got a cushy office job and so decided to become a Polish citizen. A Catholic priest caused some kind of accident at the citizenship place, I never got the details. But because of that clerical error, my friend became a citizen twice over, making him bi-Pole-er.

Herr Nett likes to travel, and drink. He's been plastered in Paris, smashed between Iraq and a hard place, blitzed in Berlin, annihilated in Algiers, pickled in Panama, juiced in Jamaica, tanked in Tanzania, wasted in Wyoming, hammered in Hanoi, ruined in Russia, and zonked in Zimbabwe, among other places. He even got plowed with a farmer in China once.

After losing his job in Poland, Herr Nett ran off to France with his Elvis-impersonator boyfriend, where they went diving in various rivers. In one, they collected Rhine stones. I think river-diving in France is pretty in-Seine, but its their Dives.

After that, they moved to Britain, where they had a run of bad luck. Their attempt to get a place to live in London fell flat. Then they got sold a worthless car for the heavy sum of 10,000 pounds. The dealer, Egypt 'em pretty good and then did a runner. (But enough about his sex life.) Herr Nett went into de Nile about it for a while; his boyfriend couldn't stand it and broke it off with him. My friend tried drowning his sorrows. Spain to see him so down in the dumps, so I gave him a tip and told him I'd bin in similar situations. Taking my advice, he moved to Scotland where I introduced him to a bonny lassie. Now they do bestiality porn. I just hope the bitch doesn't dump him, that would be pretty ruff.

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