Wednesday, January 27, 2016
The Future of Just About Everything
After the hockey game, jerseys
and girls hundred each.
We indulged. What else can we do?
Answered by Chips, whose uncle
had a book.
We gave the jerseys to the girls.
Always do the generous thing, no?--
noblesse fuckin oblige--and ported
to a place called Paterson.
A poem was named for it once, or
vice versa.
The girls had looked mega-cute, but
the book is boards, like. With paper
inside? French and Indian War. I kept
hitting it to change the topic, but
you're stuck with the one.
“Must be the only war the French won,”
mused Chips.
“Sachem is dying under the Eiffel Tower,”
I prompted him, “and Pierre, his noble
murderer in the American style, speaks.”
"Tough merde, mon ami."
We couldn't stop laughing.
All right, all right: babies! Wastrels!
Bums! The worst of everything and pretty
ignorant too.
Though I'd like to point out that we have many
degrees between us. Forgot most of the Majors.
The government put a limit on them, so we do
nothing now.
Live on the Dole, Pineapple!
Please laugh. We just die if people don't.
Gets too, whatchallit, existential!
Worry not of the Future of the Nation,
Messy Amis, because we're promised
jobs next year.
Forty considered a good starting age,
according to most Sociologists.
Hafta curtail the women then. Patriotism!
Well, it was great fun but it was just
one of those thongs.
Labels: American Future, assing around, education, future, patriotism, thong, unemployment, waste time, wastrel, women
