Some people come to sit and think. Some people come to shit and stink. But I come here to scratch my balls. And read the writings on the Walls. THE WALLS OF THE COSMIC OUTHOUSE!

ADD YOUR OWN Here I sit all broken hearted
Paid a quarter and only farted!

Here I sit in stinking vapor;
someone stole the toilet paper.
How much longer should I linger,
before I decide to use my finger?


People who write on stinkhouse walls,
roll their shit in little balls.
People who read these lines of wit,
Eat the little balls of shit.


Mable, Mable, you old whore!
You grubby, grimy slut.
Between your toes
Green fungus grows
Between your thighs,
Who know what lies?
Before I'd climb your greasy frame
and suck your festering tits,
I'd drink a gallon of buzzard puke,
And die of the dribbling shits.

Here I sit, what a caper
Had a shit, got no paper
Boss is around, mustn't linger
Fuck it all I'll use my finger.


If a mans brain was as big as his balls,
There`d be no writing on shithouse walls.


Here I sit,
giving birth
to another Texan.


Here I sit, what a caper
Had a shit, got no paper
Boss is around, mustn't linger
Fuck it all I'll use my finger.
There was a young fellow named Bart
Who strained ev'ry shit through a fart.

Each tip-tapered turd
Was the very last word
In this deft and most intricate art.


Here I sit,
My cheeks a flexin.
Giving birth to another Texan.


Here I sit,
All broken hearted,
Came to shit,
But only farted,
So now I guess,
Oh what the hell,
I'll just sit back,
And enjoy the smell.

- - - - - -

Here i sit,
and it's all too clear,
that i was too late,
In getting here,
Now i sit,
In deep despair,
I ended up shitting,
In my underwear.

- - - - - -

Here i sit,
This day's gone bad,
I blame it all on,
The curry i had,
So please don't laugh,
I plead and beg,
As the diarrhoea runs,
down my trouser leg.

Dog tags ring, are you listenin'?

In the lane, snow is glistenin'.

It's yellow, NOT white

- I've been there tonight,

Marking up my winter wonderland.

Smell that tree? That's my fragrance.

It's a sign for wand'ring vagrants;

'Avoid where I pee, it's MY pro-per-ty!

Marked up as my winter wonderland.'

In the meadow dad will build a snowman, following the classical design.

Then I'll lift my leg and let it go Man,

So all the world will know it's mine-mine-mine!

Straight from me to the fencepost, flows my natural incense boast;

'Stay off of my TURF, this small piece of earth,

I marked it as my winter wonderland.

Christmas in the rest Home.

'Twas the night before Christmas at Rock-Away Rest,
And all of us seniors were looking our best.
Our glasses, how sparkly, our wrinkles, how merry;
Our punchbowl held prune juice plus three drops of sherry.

A bedsock was taped to each walker, in hope
That Santa would bring us soft candy and soap.
We surely were lucky to be there with friends,
Secure in this residence and in our Depends.

Our grandkids had sent us some Christmasy crafts,
Like angels in snowsuits and penguins on rafts.
The dental assistant had borrowed our teeth,
And from them she'd crafted a holiday wreath.

The bed pans, so shiny, all stood in a row,
Reflecting our candle's magnificent glow.
Our supper so festive -- the joy wouldn't stop --
Was creamy warm oatmeal with sprinkles on top.

Our salad was Jell-O, so jiggly and great,
Then puree of fruitcake was spooned on each plate.
The social director then had us play games,
Like "Where Are You Living?" and "What Are Your Names?"

Old Grandfather Looper was feeling his oats,
Proclaiming that reindeer were nothing but goats.
Our resident wand'rer was tied to her chair,
In hopes that at bedtime she still would be there.

Security lights on the new fallen snow
Made outdoors seem noon to the old folks below.
Then out on the porch there arose quite a clatter
(But we are so deaf that it just didn't matter).

A strange little fellow flew in through the door,
Then tripped on the sill and fell flat on the floor.
'Twas just our director, all togged out in red.
He jiggled and chuckled and patted each head.

We knew from the way that he strutted and jived
Our old age pension checks had finally arrived.
We sang -- how we sang -- in our monotone croak,
Till the clock tinkled out its soft eight-p.m. stroke.

And soon we were snuggling deep in our beds.
While nurses distributed nocturnal meds.
And so ends our Christmas at Rock-Away Rest.
'Afore long you'll be with us - we wish you the best.

"When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Then when they're gone, I can catch up on my napping."

My face in the mirror
Isn't wrinkled or drawn.

My house isn't dirty
The cobwebs are gone.

My garden looks lovely
And so does my lawn.

I think I might never

Put my glasses back on

Christmas Germs

'Twas the night after Christmas and all through the kitchen
Little creatures were stirring up potions bewitching
Salmonellae were working in gravy and soup,
In the hopes they could turn it to poisonous goop!

Clostridia were nestled all snug in the ham,
While Hepatitis A viruses danced in the yam.
Little John with his Gobots and Mary in her cap,
Had just settled down for a long overdue nap.
When down in their guts there arose such a clatter
They sprang from their beds to see what was the matter.

They ran to the bathroom, threw open the door
Too late! Now their mother is cleaning the floor.
Wash your hands before cooking! Put your food away quick!

Or that jolly old food germ we know as Saint Sick
With his eight tiny microbes will ruin the feast

As they make their toxins. He calls out to each beast:
"Now Hepatitis! Now Staph and Perfringens;
We'll punish those humans for holiday binges!

On Botulinum! E. coli! Shigella!
Go get 'em Amoeba! Work fast, Salmonella!
If those humans can't learn to handle food right,
A Merry Christmas they'll have, then a long, sleepless night!"

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