Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Sunday, September 17, 2006

A Song of Solemn Men



General JC Christian took a gander at Photobloggergate and wrote about it here. Where some see tits and racism, the General sees what's important and elucidates accordingly. This song is dedicated to the General, and to Little Manly Soldiers everywhere.

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A Song of Solemn Men

If a blogger isn't black
Her breasts are aimed, poised to attack
You'd think that we'd be cut some slack
Tits are straw men, I hate to divulge
I just really hate to divulge
The Manly Bulge
It mocks me so

Clever, how attention's forced
Breasts speak in code that isn't Morse
Should I cut and run or stay the course
I think I need a scotch
A generous pour of scotch
Did you see that crotch?
It hurts to know

It hurts just to know
It hurts just to know
And Lord, I know

That pic is charged with drama
No brown bloggers, no black momma
It gives us pause, just like a comma
But forget the lady's stackage
Oh those women with their stackage
I only see the Manly Package
That's why I sing

When a lady is outlined below
Some will smirk, speak of Camel Toe
And the schoolboys nod, as if they know
But what hurts, what really pinches
Is the peacock with four inches
The rest of us feel just like finches
And so take wing

And so I'll take wing
And so I'll take wing
I'll fly and sing

Oh, by Jove and thunder
I have often truly wondered
Why the Good Lord made a blunder
A mystery with his tricks
There is one that he won't fix
And why oh why are they called dicks
Questions haunt me so

Today when I go out for walking
I'll be resolved, I won't be balking
But yet I fear that something stalks me
The pants of men are all so coy
Be they denim or corduroy
They all have meat but I have soy
Say it ain't so

Say that it ain't so
Please say that it ain't so
Ashamed, I go

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