Date: Fri, 14 Jan 2005 19:36:30 -0600
Reply-To: Joel Walker <jwalker17@EARTHLINK.NET>
Sender: Vanagon Mailing List <vanagon@gerry.vanagon.com>
From: Joel Walker <jwalker17@EARTHLINK.NET>
Subject: Fw: Speaking of...
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> Friday, er, Fryeday (Frydaye?)- where the heck is everybody? Things
> have been mighty slow since the clampdown, it seems. That's how it
> works, y'know... take the villain out of the story it gets boring
> pretty quick. I'd almost welcome yet another @&#$% refrigerator
> discussion. Well maybe not. : )
a challenge?! a gauntlet phlapped in my phace??!!!!
well ...
Friday
Oh, Fria's day has come at last,
The last workday will soon be past,
Tomorrow's light will come too soon
And wake me fore the crack of Noon.
Portents of work that must be done
Cause wishes for the rain, not sun,
Lord knows, the grass could use some rain
To grow before I cut again.
But mostly Fridays mean to me
Some silliness, frivolity,
Some stupid poem or Trip Report,
A silly joke, a quick retort.
Such things prepare me for the end
Of days of Work where I did spend
More hours a'sitting 'pon my duff ...
Boy, gummint work is really rough! :)
and for those of you still standing ...
FFFFFriday
by Unca Joel
hear i sit, all down-hearted,
'tis Friday, and i can't get started.
a story, joke, an ode or pome,
i need to write, a little tome
of wit or wisdom, mirth or glee,
but nothing bubbles up from me.
am i so burned from Fridays past
that nothing's left in me at last?
no more lame verse to mock our cars?
no stupid songs unheard in bars?
with wrinkled forehead o'er mine eyes,
my tortured mind doth seek the prize.
a silly song? no, not again.
a sonnet, then, from way back when?
an ode, perhaps? nah, that's too long;
you're better off with silly song.
oh, fuddled mind! am i too beat?
is nothing left that ain't repeat??
oh, well, it's not the worldwide end ...
i guess, next Friday, try again
to see if verse or song is writ
continuing this Friday bit
of Folly Funnies on the List ...
and hope today it won't be missed.
and lastly, but not too loosely,
Jabber-Jabber List
by Screwloose Feral
'Twas Frydaye, and upon the List
Were Minds of fetid thoughts so bent,
Toward Topics of the rankest Grist,
That admins cringe, but Rules relent.
"Beware the Jabber-Jabber List!
"Of emails flowing without end!
"Of Subject: Rust and Heat and Tires,
"That like the Seasons come again!"
He paused his fingers o'er the keys,
In thought he lingered, half asleep ...
Then slow and painful typed the words
As came they bubbling from the deep.
And from the keyboard, one by one,
The clicking noise disturbed the Night,
Drove out the Silence of the Lateness,
Sounded like a cricket fight.
Vee, Hay! Enn, Hay! Gee, Oh, Enn!
The keyboard groaned beneath his strokes!
Til grabbed he mouse and with one click,
A message sent to email folkes.
"And art thou finished yet, My Love?"
Said Wife while filing on a nail;
"About damned Time! Then go to bed!"
But said Computer: You Have Mail.
'Twas Frydaye, and upon the List
Were Minds of fetid thoughts so bent,
Toward Topics of the rankest Grist,
That admins cringe, but Rules relent.
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