Sunday, November 15, 2015
These selected limericks were written between 2/28/15 and 11/14/15 (newest first).
Rock ‘n’ Roll
The shit is now hitting the fan,
But I’ve already got me a plan;
It’s simple advice—
Yet fairly precise:
Stay fucked up as much as you can.
Gulf Oil Spill
I thought we might never surmount
Oil pollution of such large amount;
But away it’s been swept,
And it’s all good except
For a few folks who don’t really count. (/sarcasm)
With shit blowing up exponentially,
Things could get hairy, potentially;
When it comes to cuisine,
Even soylent green
Has to run out eventually.
Progressively increasing heat
Kills the plants, as well as the meat;
But what we’re going through
Kills you and me too,
Due to not having food left to eat.
I don’t want to say I’m depressed,
But sometimes I’m really distressed,
And I’ve come to conclude,
For improving my mood,
Doom seems to cheer me up best.
Hierarchy and Social Inequality Are Different from Extinction
Anger stage, that’s what we see,
Plus avoidance of what’s really key,
When we fight to break free
From what was and will be
To distract us from NTHE.
Fuck It to getting Ahead,
And fuck getting up out of Bed;
Fuck crowd-pleasing Cred,
Fuck me till I’m Dead,
And fuck teaching doom special Ed.
Fuck all the bullshit I’m Fed,
Fuck G, and repeat rhymes I’ve said;
Fuck the shit in my Head,
Fuck J up ahead,
And fuck what I should say Instead.
Fuck meeting the next Knucklehead,
And fuck my whole life that I’ve Led;
M, N, O, and ahead,
The Q watch me shed,
And fuck those who think they’re Purebred.
Fuck all the bullshit I’ve Read,
And fuck every wrong thing I’ve Said;
Fuck this whole stupid Thread,
Fuck zombies Undead,
And fuck all the suffering Widespread.
Fuck mistakes, and the words I retread,
Fuck V, and more Fuck Its ahead:
Fuku’s X-rays now shed,
You and me, walking dead—
Fuck it all, from A down to Zed.
Finding Joy in Doom
We’re fucked—words have never been truer—
Day by day, we’ll likely get bluer;
But there’s joy, we could say,
That, with each passing day,
The ones still remaining are fewer.
Optimistic thinking runs deep:
We’re about to collapse in a heap,
Yet hope springs eternal,
So mine is nocturnal—
I hope that I die in my sleep.
When the end comes for me, it’s alright
(With luck, maybe even tonight!);
Things got fucked up somehow:
They’re bad enough now,
And the future ain’t looking that bright.
Blessed Are the Meek
In the endgame of musical chairs
They’re still fucked, and nobody cares;
But extinction’s good news
Helps to mellow the blues,
For this time the vengeance is theirs.
The Rite of Doom
With the widening gyre’s advance,
The beast slouches; we haven’t a chance;
The cause of this vortex?
Not enough neocortex:
We still do an old pagan dance.
Pretty soon my days will be done
That’s O.K., they weren’t much fun
With luck I’ll be through
With an MI or flu
So I won’t have to use a gun.
Trust in the system’s all through,
Economic theory’s untrue,
And you’re worthless as poo
Up the old wazoo:
Too big to fail means fuck you.
On Social Cohesion
Red tooth and claw once defined
Which creature whipped which one’s behind;
But consciousness is what
We’ve evolved to kick butt,
Simply by using our mind.
Fire and Ice
Some say the world ends in fire,
Some in ice (should people inquire);
What we know now’s concise:
Though ice might be nice,
The world will be ending in fire.
Through the Looking Glass
Doom gave her not much time left,
So, of usual purpose bereft,
And with values all changed
In a new world deranged,
Alice suddenly knew she was effed.
On the Doomy Side of the Street
Because of the increasing heat,
Pretty soon we’ll all be dead meat;
We once walked in the sun
But those days are now done,
On the doomy side of the street.
Walk on the Doom Side
Once, the whole world seemed to loom wide;
Unwittingly got on a gloom ride:
Heard collapse would befall
And answered the call,
“Hey, babe, take a walk on the doom side.”
We’re fucked, based on things that I’ve read,
We’re fucked good and proper, it’s said;
And the shit that's widespread,
It's not over—instead,
We’ll be more and more fucked till we’re dead.
Old Time Doomers
We were wrong to think, re our plight,
That Peak Oil or Macondo would bite;
And then too with Fuku,
But now we’re not cuckoo:
At last, with extinction, we’re right.
Sleepy Time Prayer
I lay me down now with forewarning:
Tomorrow will soon be aborning,
And, of course, it will suck,
But with any kind of luck,
I’ll wake up dead in the morning.
Keep Hands In At All Times
Enjoy nervous giggles and farts
Riding up in our smart little carts;
‘Cause in the descent,
They’ll have got up and went
By the part where the screaming starts.
President Trump: What, Me Worry?
If this poorly controlled intruder
Goes too far, there’s insiders still shrewder,
And the powers that be
Will invite him to see
A movie by old Abe Zapruder.
You Deserve a Break Today
Bad reactions you’re apt to provoke
Telling people they’re soon going to croak;
But if you are sincere
And they don’t want to hear,
Fuck ‘em if they can’t take a joke.
My whole life I tried to construct
A theory why so much stuff sucked;
What I learned getting prepped
Is just try to accept
That when you are fucked, you’re fucked.
Folks get upset, you can’t chill ‘em,
Knock yourself out, you won’t thrill ‘em;
They’re tough to withstand:
You can’t live with ‘em, and
Making things even worse, you can’t kill ‘em.
Doomers are insider hip wits:
We know that we’re at where the trip quits;
Bad news we have swallowed,
And soon we’ll be followed
By millions of dumbfounded dipshits.
Is it wrongs that the righteous are righting?
Are the holy and good evil smiting?
Is it some noble cause
In support of just laws?
No, it’s just animals fighting.
It’s All Good
I’m getting relaxed, I’ll admit
With the thought that we’re all going to split;
Is the reason explained
By acceptance I’ve gained,
Or because I just don’t give a shit?
The New Normal
Fires in forests, we’ve learned,
Have increased, and we should be concerned;
But to not misinform,
It’s only the norm
Until all the trees there have burned.
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Doom
I used to have worries and stress
Which I never found ways to address;
But we’ll have no success
In avoiding this mess,
So lately I worry much less.
When You’re Fucked, You’re Fucked
You might be looked at askance
And have trouble with social advance
If your fate’s to see lies
With your own honest eyes
From outside the consensus trance.
From the view of determinist fandom,
Does it follow, as if, like, in tandem,
That stuff moves as it must
Wherever it’s thrust,
And Brownian movement’s not random?
Who gives a shit? Doom’s begun—
We just want to have us some fun;
There’s a circus in town
And you make the best clown,
So run, motherfucker, run.
Trump for President
There’s no way of stopping the waning
Of life in the time that’s remaining;
But elections, we know,
Are a circus clown show,
So they might as well be entertaining.
With statements so clearly severe,
His campaign will one day disappear;
As most people say,
He won’t go all the way,
So enjoy him—and life—while they’re here.
Pre-doomers suspect we’re in Dutch,
But their fear makes it too hot to touch;
Even us getting pissed
At their need to resist
Doesn’t seem to help very much.
Life beat me up—I was sore,
And found day to day living a chore;
I detached somehow,
And feel much better now
‘Cause I don’t give a fuck anymore.
Was It Worth It?
Since we’re all about to succumb,
Can we measure, by some rule of thumb,
Was life inhumane?
Was the gain worth the pain?
—It was fun while it lasted, for some.
Comma Comma Doom Dooby Doo Doom Doom
After all that we have been through,
We awake to know that doom’s true;
But we sometimes pretend
That this isn’t the end
‘Cause waking up’s hard to do.
We Are Stardust
Though we die, after death we’ll still be
Part of all of the glory we see;
I’m hoping this view
Might prove helpful to you,
‘Cause it hasn’t done too much for me.
Doom’s not right or wrong from afar—
Say, for instance, from some distant star,
And it’s not bad or good,
But, best understood,
It’s simply the way that things are.
Maybe the Drought
This summer, the heat and the drought
Might wake folks to what doom’s about;
They’ll open their eyes
To a great big surprise:
It’s over, without any doubt.
Acceptance allows us to strike
Discomfort from out of our psych;
It’s easy to do
For me and for you—
Except for the things we don’t like.
Daniel Drumright says: “…NTE ends in only one of three ways for everyone: predation, starvation or suicide.”
Predation, Starvation, or Suicide
The choices are three—very few
So it’s probably worth thinking through
What you plan to do
When the end reaches you—
And then wait your turn in the queue.
People will find out one day
Of the end which they cannot delay;
Then chaos takes hold,
And with horror untold,
Social breakdown begins right away.
Summer Is Coming
When folks learn, concerning the heat,
That their info has been incomplete,
And with nothing to eat,
They’ll all become meat,
There’ll be breakdown and chaos tout de suite.
At LATOC, an early doom school,
We’d ask, “How many more?” every Yule;
We could do the same here
At this time of year
For decades to come. April Fool!
Whad’ya Mean, Drought?
You don’t want to put in your yap
The water that comes from the tap;
So bring to a boil,
Maybe drive off some oil
Which causes its tasting like crap.
Good News about Cognitive Dissonance
Help for improvement in mood
Might be found in the progress accrued
From conviction combined
With the great peace of mind
That comes from accepting we’re screwed.
The haters are lying in wait,
But show themselves more as of late;
And events we abhor
Will occur more and more
The closer we get to hell’s gate.
To view just how badly we’re sinking,
Simply look, and see without blinking:
Knead and alter your mind
Till it gets redesigned
Into post-acceptance thinking.
The Buddha, in days of yore,
Counseled what’s now ancient lore:
“Life is suffering,” he said—
But since soon we’ll be dead,
We won’t have to suffer much more.
Extinction’s upsides from grief
Include one among them that’s chief:
Sure, it ends all we knew
Along with us too,
But we’ll finally get some relief.
When it turns out that you’re not immune
To doom so inopportune:
Times are dark, but alright,
There’s a spot that is bright—
It’s going to be all over soon.
When you find your own doomer glass
You can see what’s coming to pass,
So just hang out here
And be of good cheer
Till you kiss goodbye to your ass.
On such a hot summer’s day,
I pretend that I’m a gourmet,
And the sommelier
Finds the best cabernet
To go with my soylent filet.
If You're Going to San Francisco
Bring flowers to wear in your hair,
Cool shades for the sunshiny glare,
And if fluid each day
Keeps you feeling OK,
Bring water to drink while you’re there.
California, Here We Come
This summer is going to be dry:
We’ll sit around watching stuff die;
Strangely, given this luck,
People don’t give a fuck—
Even more strangely, neither do I.
We’ll receive the increasing drought
With increasing freaking, no doubt;
We were pretty naïve,
Thinking we couldn’t leave,
But we’re all about to check out.
Surprised at the worsening trend
Of horror to comprehend?
Sure, everything’s wrecked,
But it’s what to expect
When the world comes to an end.
You Say You Want a Revolution
Perhaps you feel drained from feigning
The niche social structure’s ordaining,
But you’re not obtaining
Relief from complaining
Within the time that’s remaining.
All the oppressors you knew,
And whose torment you had to live through,
And who filled you with dread—
Well, soon they’ll be dead!
(OTOH, you’ll be dead too.)
Can’t Remember Them All
It’s harder to list every fault
Combined in extinction’s assault
Than to stop the denying,
Admit that we’re dying,
And dig the whole doomer Gestalt.
The Karma This Time
Doom will give haters who lurk
An excuse to go wholly berserk;
But not balm for despair
In a world that’s unfair,
This time the karma will work.
Dick and Jane Visit the Nuclear Reactor
Dick and Jane go. Fun fun fun.
Look look look. We see the sun.
See two suns. Oh oh.
Oh oh. Go go go.
Run Dick and Jane. Run run run.
Rhymes with Opium
People are losing their hopium:
They just sit around and mopium;
Unable to copium,
The end of their ropium
Is near, ‘cause with doom, hope’s no soapium.
I don’t like when the heat is too hot;
I don’t like that I cannot do squat.
Do I like too much heat
When I cannot do sheet?
I don’t like it too hot. I do not!