Random Idiotic Thoughts

During graduation, while they read the seven hundred plus names of the senior class, you are alone with your thoughts . . . mainly, I thought how strange it was that every speaker had a quote from Dr. Seuss in their speech and that if I ever have to give a graduation speech, I won't quote Dr. Seuss, I will instead quote the Random Idiots song about Dr. Seuss-- you know, the one where the good doctor uses his faux doctorate to open a gynecology clinic and have his way gullible women . . . and that day, of course, will be my last as a teacher.

If I'm Lucky, I'll Have Another Thing in Common With Theodore Geisel (Thanks Pfizer)

I share my birthday with a cat named Seuss

a man I respect for his creative juice

his rhymes were tight, his mind was loose--

and while the good Doctor liked to imbibe

Prohibition didn't feel his vibe--

I also like the occasional shot,

but on this birthday, alcohol is a NOT--

the shot I partake will go in my arm--

a present from Pfizer that might make me feel warm,

Seuss survived a pandemic: the Spanish flu--

Soon enough I might say: I survived too!

Anapestic Birthday Wishes

Today is the day-- now I'm thirty-eight!--
The Doctor and I share the same date--
If Seuss were alive, he'd be one-o-two,
And if I were like Horton, then I'd hear a Who!
(Actually, Seuss would be one-o-four,
but that is a fact that I choose to ignore).

Seuss + Dave = Birthdays

Seuss was a man
who created a cat,
with a number of tricks,
and a fancy top hat--
I am the man
who created this blog,
but I don't have a cat . . .
I prefer my black dog.

Dave and Dr. Seuss Pontificate on the Meaning of Shared Birthdays (in a Universe That May be Experiencing the Nietzschean Eternal Return)

Me and the Seuss,
we share the same date:
coincidence . . .
or an act of fate?
I tend to lean
towards the stochastic
but perhaps our world
is finitely elastic,
so we run the same path
after every big bang
and the Doctor and I
share our groove thang.

The Good Doctor and I Celebrate Another Birthday

My beard grows white, my skin grows loose,
the looming specter tightens his noose,
and if you deny him, he'll cook your goose . . .
let me remind you, it happened to Seuss.

Gary Gygax is Dead

Way back in 1992, Whitney and I capitalized on the death of Dr. Seuss with our eponymous "tribute" song . .  someone should do the the same for the King of the Dorks.

34 Years To Go! (For An Average American Male)

Today is my birthday,
me and the Seuss--
I'm now forty-one,
and still feeling loose,
but if life is a train,
I'm near the caboose.

Life Imitates Art?

Life imitates art (or what Whitney and I call art, but the rest of the world calls dreck)-- and it answers an ethical question as well: in a recent case, Nicholas Creanza (a pharmacist) posed as a gynecologist and "examined" several women, but he cannot be charged with rape because of an old law that states that an assault can't be considered rape if consent is obtained through fraud or deceit, and, either coincidentally or by design, Creanza's actions mirror the plot from "Dr. Seuss"-- Random Idiot's cross-over Beastie Boy's style hit from 1991 that details how Theodore Geisel uses his honorary doctorate to open a gynecology clinic and have his way with unsuspecting women, which we thought was a felony and so sent him to jail in the song (the Grinch who stole Christmas doing thirty to life/ sent to the slammer, now he's Bubba's wife) but really, we should have just sent him for some counseling.

Mike Tyson Should Sleep Next to His Pet Tiger

According to the Dr. Seuss classic, "Horton Hatches the Egg," if an elephant broods over a bird's egg, then he creates a flying elephant-- therefore, based on this premise of proximity and DNA leakage, if your dog sleeps next to your pregnant wife every night, she'll produce a werewolf (technically a were-dog, but who can tell the difference?)

Dave and The Good Doctor Celebrate Yet Another Birthday With Some Doggerel Rhymes

The day has arrived,

the day of my birth--

The day Seuss and I

debuted on the Earth;

And while the good doctor

has passed from this place,

I'm still hanging on

still running the race,

still working the job,

still writing the posts,

still chasing the lob,

still taunting the ghosts--

I've been knocking around

for fifty-three years,

my knees are a wreck,

I can barely quaff beers--

but while I can walk,

stand and not fall,

I'll remain in the game

and play pickleball.

Me and the Doctor: Together Forever

If Seuss were alive, he'd be very old,
one hundred and nine years I am told;
I doubt very much that I'll make it that far --
but I have a tattoo of a fish in a car!

A Gross Present

I share my birthday with a Cat named Seuss--
who, like all writers, liked his juice
as I like mine, fermented and sweet . . .
especially for a birthday treat--
but this year, instead of getting pissed
my present is a sebaceous cyst.

Birthday Slant Rhyme

Today is our day:
me, Seuss, and Bon Jovi,
and I am the youngest,
Though I just turned forty.

Dave Turns Fifty, Theodore Geisel Would Turn 116 (If He Wasn't Long Dead)

The Doctor and me, we share the same date--

Inevitably, we'll share the same fate.

As alive as he was, all the places he went,

In the end, he found out that his life was but lent.

I AM alive, I have places to go--

But since I'm now fifty, I'll just move kind of slow.

There is a lesson to be learned from the demise of the Seuss:

the best case with the reaper is an uneasy truce.