Friday, February 19, 2016

COLUMN: Classin' It Up

I need to class things up a bit.

This column began with one humble goal: to one day rule the world with a cold iron fist. It's a simple plan, really. Win the hearts of America with my nerdy charm, then leverage that fame into valuable cash prizes and eventual global conquest. I don't ask for much.

Honestly, though, things are not going well. I'm now 45 years old and have yet to receive a single invitation to high society. The way I had it figured, I'd be hob-knobbing with the social elite by now, filling my calendars with wine and cheese parties while chortling as Reginald and Gloria VanDerRichpants recount their summer in Monaco.

If I want this plan to work, I need to step up the game. I should already be receiving invites to Diddy parties in the Hamptons. Donald Trump should be asking for MY support. I should have dated at least 1.7 Kardashians by now. I'm running way behind schedule, and I think I know why.

As it turns out, high society does not beckon to those who write about cats and Netflix. I need to broaden my horizons a bit, methinks. High society does not enjoy a 3-part column on the video game Rock Band. High society likes the finer things. This column can no longer rely on flatulence jokes and Tom Cruise insults. If I want to woo the culturally elite, I need to produce fine art.

With that, I begin my new career... as a future poet laureate. I've never written poetry before, but I reckon it can't be too hard. I just need to concentrate and paint beautiful pictures with my words -- and with great labor and mental expense, I think I just pulled it off.

Prepare to welcome me with open arms, high society, as I present to you my first creation, an evocative piece I call,

"An Ode To The Guy I Caught Peeing In My Yard Sunday Night."

When I open my back door,
There are many things to see.
But what I didn't expect
Was you having a pee.

I don't know your name,
so I feel kind of silly.
But based on last night,
I choose to call you Willie.

It was quite cold that night,
The wind sure was blustery.
Why didn't you at least opt
for a bush or some shrubbery?

Modern life is frantic,
there's no time to dally.
But perhaps hit the men's room
Before tromping down my alley.

We've all had full bladders,
It can be quite a plight.
But please don't relieve yourself
right here in plain sight.

I don't mean to be rude,
I don't mean to be crass.
But I didn't need your help
watering my grass.

The big storm missed us,
We avoided that woe.
So at least you couldn't write
your name in yellow snow.

Live life to the fullest,
That's my credo, I mean this.
But please live it without
Showing me your... smiling face.

So now my lawn has cooties.
If I could, I would boil it.
All because you
Couldn't wait for a toilet.

I'm sure everything's fine,
Grass is nothing if not durable.
But next time might I suggest
A room with a urinal?

Don't try it again,
Cause now I'm aggravated.
I just bought a flood light
That's motion activated.

I know life is short,
so Willie, have a ball.
Just pick a different yard
next time you heed nature's call.

Classiness, thy name is Shane. Columbia University, you may send my forthcoming Pulitzer Prize to the usual address.

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