THINGS THAT INSULT MY INTELLIGENCE

Junk Food Insults My Intelligence

Photo Credit: Elana's Pantry

Photo Credit: Elana’s Pantry

My greatest
Junk food weakness
Is salad.

Luscious lettuce,
Tantalizing tomatoes,
Crunchy cucumbers.
Poetic Pomegranate dressing
(lowfat, luckily)

But no croutons.
They’re too fattening.

Celery will suffice.

I eat this
to indulge,
to send my soul swooning,
to beckon my inner Bugs Bunny.

But not too often,
or else…
I’ll have to call doc.

Therefore, I suffer
under a restrictive diet
of ice cream,
fried chicken,
and liverwurst.

Legalese Insults My Intelligence

The world is beautiful and legalese is not… or at least it usually isn’t.  Contracts should be like poetry.  So… let’s play with an example from the Amazon.com Conditions of Use.

Amazon Poetry

License and Access

Subject
to your compliance
with these Conditions
of Use
and your
payment
of any applicable
fees,

Amazon
or its content
providers
grant you a limited,
non-exclusive,
non-transferable,
non-sublicensable
license to access
and make personal
and non-commercial
use
of the Amazon
Services.

This license
does not include
any
resale or commercial
use
of any Amazon
Service,
or its
contents;
any collection
and use of
any product listings,
descriptions,
or prices;
any derivative
use
of any Amazon
Service
or its contents;
any downloading
or copying of account
information
for the benefit
of another
merchant;
or any use
of data
mining,
robots,
or similar data
gathering
and extraction
tools.

All rights
not expressly
granted
to you
in these Conditions
of Use
or any Service
Terms
are reserved
and retained
by Amazon or its
licensors,
suppliers,
publishers,
rightsholders,
or other content
providers.

No Amazon Service,
nor any part
of any Amazon
Service,
may be
reproduced,
duplicated,
copied,
sold,
resold,
visited,
or otherwise
exploited
for any commercial
purpose
without
express written
consent
of Amazon.

You may not
frame
or utilize framing
techniques
to enclose any
trademark,
logo,
or other proprietary
information (including
images,
text,
page layout,
or form) of Amazon
without express written
consent.

You may not use
any
meta tags
or any other “hidden
text”
utilizing Amazon’s name or
trademarks
without the express written
consent
of Amazon.

You may not
misuse
the Amazon
Services.

You may
use
the Amazon
Services
only as permitted by
law.

The licenses
granted
by Amazon
terminate
if you do not
comply
with these Conditions
of Use
or any Service
Terms.

 

Moral of the story: if a lawyer is ever speaking to you in incomprehensible language, ask him to recite his jargon as a poem.  It’s more understandable that way.  Mostly.

And don’t worry. I’m not legally required to obtain Amazon’s express written consent before making fun of them.

Field Trips Insult My Intelligence

I wrote a parody of Maya Angelou’s poem “Still I Rise” as one of my earliest posts.  I liked the result but few people saw it because the blog was so new.  I’ve been meaning to write a sequel ever since.

That said, it’s time to revisit one of the cruelest topics I’ve ever dealt with: children and animals… so here’s another morbid poem.  (Admittedly, the original was better.)

You can take kids to the forest,
They will see a lot of flies.
You can tell them not to feed the bears,
But then some poor kid dies.

Can’t they listen to instructions?
Don’t they want to stay alive?
‘Cause they play like there’s no danger there
That they just cannot survive.

Just like George and like cats
Who are curious young guys,
Though his hope’s springing high,
Still, he dies.

Photo credit: VanBuren

Photo credit: VanBuren

Should we try for something safer?
Is the subway that bad too?
(Children falling in like teardrops
Ain’t what they’re supposed to do.)

We can try hard to restrain them,
We can offer them a prize,
‘Cause the third rail’s got some energy,
And it makes sure some kid dies.

Photo Credit: PDPhotos

Photo Credit: PDPhotos

We may choose to take the bus now
We may hope that no one fries
We may warn “That fence should not be climbed”
But always someone dies.

Does that image so upset you
That we’ll have to try the beach?
But there’s sharks there underwater,
When kids drown you’ll hear a screech.

Down to the depths of ocean’s floor,
He dies.
In through the teeth, they’re gnashing his brain,
He dies.
He’s a shark’s breakfast, bloody with pride,
Floating and bloating he flows with the tide.

Leaving behind cries of terror and fear,
He dies.
Into a stomach that’s wondrously clear,
He dies.
Bringing the flesh that his ancestors gave
He is the dream and the hope the sharks crave.
He dies.
He dies.
He dies.

Monumental Buildings Insult My Intelligence

There’s no such thing as a monumental building.  It’s all in how you look at it.

It towers above me.

It towers above me.

As you can tell from the picture, this building has only three or four stories.  Looks bigger here, doesn’t it?

It’s more fun to be small and let the little things tower over you.  You don’t need an Eiffel Tower to be awed; monuments are where you find them.

This has been your budget travel tip for the day.  Stay thrifty, my friends.

Excessive Punishments Insult My Intelligence

Whenever I visit international markets, I make it a point to not laugh at any sort of unfortunate English errors I see.  Usually.  And so I chose not to photograph what I’m telling you about today.  You’ll just have to trust me.

Anyway…

I went over to the meat section and discovered a most shocking product being sold: grounded turkeys.

The market was apparently offering troublesome teenagers for human consumption.  I’m not sure if the packages contained thighs, breasts, legs, or other body parts.

 

The store must have thought he'd be yummy to more people than just the girls.  (Photo credit: Daniel Foster)

The market must have thought he’d be yummy to more people than just the Bieber fans. (Photo credit: Daniel Foster)

 

(Before you get all angry and stuff, my high school chemistry teacher lovingly referred to us students as turkeys.)

Playing By the Rules Insults My Intelligence

I drove speedilyrecklesslyfast acrossoverbeyond the tinylittleboulevard when the assholishpoliceofficer pulled me over and demanded my licenseregistrationinsurancepaycheck.

I wasn’t amused.

 

"Lie la lie, lie la lie lie lie la lie," a la Simon and Garfunkel.  (Photo credit: Ruin Raider)

“Lie la lie, lie la lie lie lie la lie,” a la Simon and Garfunkel. (Photo credit: Ruin Raider)

Fifty times he yelled goddammitdamndamndamnnonononono and each time I replied uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  I groanedgrunteddroned in an endless monologue as drool creptrushedflooded down my chin onto my lap.

The officer was pissedoffoffendedgrossedoutamused.  “Bye!”

Memories Insult My Intelligence

It was late.  It was cold.  We were cold and we were too tired to be horny.  We were on the threshold of returning to our hotel and we waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited.

Our home away from home, or so it seemed…

These are the memories that last a lifetime but we almost never think to photograph them.


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