Where's My Teabag?
An angry new poem that's very likely to make me fall afoul of Poe's Law...
Where's My Teabag? - ©2013 by Trevor Patrick
Love not the Earth, and the things therein,
Means use the world like a diaper.
'Cause Jesus is coming to clean up the mess,
And those Raptured, need not pay the piper.
And beautiful things are but snares of the Devil,
And all pleasures from Evil arise,
And scientific discovery is the worst wickedness of all,
Mere traps and wonders to confound all the wise!
If the facts should conflict with my hard-won faith,
Well, so much the worse for the so-called 'facts'.
'Cause the Good Book tells me everything I need to know,
And everything beyond it distracts.
And it's perfectly possible that you're right and I'm wrong,
And what you believe is the truth.
But my beliefs are different, and you won't like them none,
Nevertheless, I'll share them with you.
I can't spend every moment of my mortal life,
Believing fairy tales and fearing ghosts like a fool.
And I'd rather my soul be damned, than spend eternity in a place,
That's filled with superstitious assholes like you.
You say it's sinful to care about this world and its beauty,
When storing up treasures in Heaven's your duty,
This world's a warehouse of riches that are ours for the plunder,
So drill, baby drill!
And tear the mountains asunder.
Yes, drill in the Arctic, and spill in the Gulf,
While I climb in my helicopter to go shoot some wolves.
And who are you to criticise me, and say that that ain't a sporting racket,
Just what are you anyway? Some kind of Commie faggot?
I think of all that board-feet lumber when I look at redwood trees,
And little fishies all love oil-just ask any anchovy or sardine!
And smoke-filled skies mean progress, and clear-cut forests mean wealth,
And Pfiesteria piscicida is something that's really good for your health.
So where's my teabag? And where's the birth certificate?
And where's my Glock with the 30-round clip?
Gotta save all the babies, and nuke all the whales,
Gotta stop fag "marriage" 'cause they're all pedos that should be in jail,
And then there's the orchestrated fraud of the so-called Sandy Hook "massacre",
But if it's real, well that's what you get for taking God out of the classroom!
Not to mention teaching the lie that we all come from monkeys...
But did you really expect anything else from the demonRAT flunkies?
And all those little fairies will shriek,
'Save the Environment!' While destroying your job,
And then they'll give all your hard-earned money,
To the worthless "Occupy" mobs.
But all I want's my teabag,
And I'll take it however it calls,
Whether it's from a congressional page,
Or in an airport restroom stall.
Where's My Teabag? - ©2013 by Trevor Patrick
Love not the Earth, and the things therein,
Means use the world like a diaper.
'Cause Jesus is coming to clean up the mess,
And those Raptured, need not pay the piper.
And beautiful things are but snares of the Devil,
And all pleasures from Evil arise,
And scientific discovery is the worst wickedness of all,
Mere traps and wonders to confound all the wise!
If the facts should conflict with my hard-won faith,
Well, so much the worse for the so-called 'facts'.
'Cause the Good Book tells me everything I need to know,
And everything beyond it distracts.
And it's perfectly possible that you're right and I'm wrong,
And what you believe is the truth.
But my beliefs are different, and you won't like them none,
Nevertheless, I'll share them with you.
I can't spend every moment of my mortal life,
Believing fairy tales and fearing ghosts like a fool.
And I'd rather my soul be damned, than spend eternity in a place,
That's filled with superstitious assholes like you.
You say it's sinful to care about this world and its beauty,
When storing up treasures in Heaven's your duty,
This world's a warehouse of riches that are ours for the plunder,
So drill, baby drill!
And tear the mountains asunder.
Yes, drill in the Arctic, and spill in the Gulf,
While I climb in my helicopter to go shoot some wolves.
And who are you to criticise me, and say that that ain't a sporting racket,
Just what are you anyway? Some kind of Commie faggot?
I think of all that board-feet lumber when I look at redwood trees,
And little fishies all love oil-just ask any anchovy or sardine!
And smoke-filled skies mean progress, and clear-cut forests mean wealth,
And Pfiesteria piscicida is something that's really good for your health.
So where's my teabag? And where's the birth certificate?
And where's my Glock with the 30-round clip?
Gotta save all the babies, and nuke all the whales,
Gotta stop fag "marriage" 'cause they're all pedos that should be in jail,
And then there's the orchestrated fraud of the so-called Sandy Hook "massacre",
But if it's real, well that's what you get for taking God out of the classroom!
Not to mention teaching the lie that we all come from monkeys...
But did you really expect anything else from the demonRAT flunkies?
And all those little fairies will shriek,
'Save the Environment!' While destroying your job,
And then they'll give all your hard-earned money,
To the worthless "Occupy" mobs.
But all I want's my teabag,
And I'll take it however it calls,
Whether it's from a congressional page,
Or in an airport restroom stall.