Tag Archives: song

The Restroom Door Said Gentlemen

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(Tune: “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen”)

The restroom door said “Gentleman”
And so I walked inside,
I took two steps and realized
I’d been taken for a ride,
I heard high voices, turned
and found the place was occupied,
By two nuns, three old ladies and a nurse,
What could be worse
Than two old nuns, three old ladies and a nurse…

The restroom door said “gentlemen”
It must have been a gag,
As soon as I walked in there
I saw an old hag,
She sprayed me with a can of mace
And slapped me with her bag,
I could tell this just wouldn’t be my day,
What can I say?
This just wasn’t turning out to be my day…

The restroom door said “gentlemen”
And I would like to find,
That crummy little creep
Who had the nerve to switch the sign,
‘Cause I have two black eyes
And one big bruise on my behind,
So I can’t sit with comfort and joy
Boy, oh boy,
No, I’ll never sit with comfort and joy.

The Email Wonderland

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Another “ping”,
Are you listenin’?
The puter screen,
Is a glistenin’.
With icons so bright,
They light up the night,
Welcome to the e-mail wonderland!

Gone away,
Are the hall talks.
Here to stay,
Is the IN-BOX.
Flagged “urgent, please read!”,
And “answer with speed!”.
Welcome to the e-mail wonderland!

In the morning e-mails start to add up.
No lunch today cause messages abound.
Just click away and hope the server stays up.
You can’t do your job if it goes down.

10 P.M.,
You’re not tired.
The caffeine,
Has got you wired.
The day’s not complete,
Till the last delete,
Welcome to the e-mail wonderland!

In the morning e-mails start to add up,
No lunch today cause messages abound.
Just click away and hope the server stays up.
You can’t do your job if it goes down.

Until you,
Are retired,
The same old grind,
It is required.
You’ll face unafraid,
That message parade.
Welcome to the e-mail wonderland

Clone of My Own

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(To the tune of “Home on the Range”)

Oh, give me a clone,
With the genes like my own,
But convert my Y to an X.
And since she’s like me,
It’s a sure certainty,
That she’ll think of nothing but sex.

(Chorus)

Clone, clone of my own,
Who’s always eager to play,
Means we’ll have great fun,
And I’ll only need one,
So please get her started today.

As long as you’re mixing,
Some genes could use fixing,
To make her the best she can be.
Blond hair and blue eyes,
And a skinnier size,
And an IQ a bit less than me.

(chorus)

Please send me my clone,
Just as soon as she’s grown,
Past the virtual age of eighteen.
I’m tired of dating,
And eagerly waiting,
To make it on the cloning scene.

(chorus)

The Washington Hillbillies

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To the Beverly Hillbillies Melody

Well dere once was a story ’bout a man named Bill;
Da poor president couldn’t keep his willie still;
Den one day he was workin’ at his desk,
When in walks Monica and shows da boy her chest…

Boobs, that is. Two of ’em. Bodacious ta ta’s.

Well da next thing ya know, Monica is on her knees,
Mouth open wide and as happy as you please;
Bill sez, “oh yeah now-don’t say a thing,”
“If you do a good job then we’ll have a little fling.”

Blow job, that is. Phalli osculation.

Well, Bill lost his load and it fell upon her dress,
He said, “Clean it up, ‘cuz you really are a mess,
And you’re invited here to dis fine locality,
To have a heapin’ helpin’ of little Willie C.”

Da wiener, that is. Da presidential staff.

So week after week, Monica is on her knees
Keepin’ Willie and his Wiener just as happy as you please,
But then she figured out dat the fling had gone too far,
And she blabbed it all to Linda Tripp who blabbed it all to Starr.

Bad girl, that is. Cigars. Bodacious ta ta’s.

Well it weren’t too long till we all knew the score,
’bout da stuff dat went down behind da oval office door;
Da country’s in da toilet and da people cry, “No More”
But if we oust da cheatin’ jerk, den we gotta live with Gore.

Boob, that is. Great big one. Head stuck up his rear.

So now ya know da story ’bout Bill our president,
Wonderin’ if dis fling’s gonna cost him every cent;
So da moral of da story is to do it quietly,
And stay outta trouble with dat bitch named Hillary.

My Favorite Things

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The Bill Clinton Version

Blow jobs and land deals in backwater places,
Big Macs and french fries and girls with big faces,
Lots of nice cleavage that makes willie spring,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Susan McDougal and Gennifer Flowers,
Horny young interns who while ‘way the hours,
Profits from futures that Hillary brings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When that Jones bites,
When Ken Starr stings,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.

Beating the draft board and getting elected,
Naming to judgeships some hacks I’ve selected,
Conspiracy theories that blame the right wing,
These are a few of my favorite things.

Golfing with Vernon and suborning perjury,
Falling down drunk that required knee surgery
Stars in the White House who come here to sing,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When that Jones bites,
When Ken Starr stings,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.

Meeting with Boris and Helmut and Tony,
States of the Union with lots of baloney,
Winning debates and the joy of my flings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

When that Jones bites,
When Ken Starr stings,
When I’m feeling sad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
And then I don’t feel so bad.

Goodbye Bubba’s Jeans

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A tribute to William Jefferson Clinton to be sung to the tune of “Candle in the Wind”

Goodbye Bubba’s Jeans
Though you always grew in your pants
You had the grace to hold yourself,
Till a woman graced the room.
You called out through the country,
While you whispered to those babes in pain,
You can take me to heaven
And then deny it all the same!

And it seems to me you spent your terms
Keeping Bimbos on the run:
Always knowing where to turn to
When you wanted some.
And your footsteps will always fall where,
Women like guys named Bill
Your legacy will never last
But your libido always will.

Goodbye Bubba’s jeans
The nation will miss your style
We’ll miss that pouting lip
That trembled when you felt our pain.
And even though we’ll try
The truth that you are really gone
Will bring us all to tears;
When your wife is no longer running things.

And it seems to me you spent your terms
Keeping Bimbos on the run:
Always knowing where to turn to
When you wanted some.
And your footsteps will always fall where,
Women like guys named Bill
Your legacy will never last
But your libido always will.

Goodbye Bubba’s jeans,
You wanted to be just like JFK
And now you’ve done it,
Making Monica your Marilyn Monroe.
We hope that it was worth it,
Dragging the country through the mud,
So you could satisfy that urge,
The one that’s run you out of town.

And it seems to me you spent your terms
Keeping Bimbos on the run:
Always knowing where to turn to
When you wanted some.
And your footsteps will always fall where,
Women like guys named Bill
Your legacy will never last
But your libido always will.

Millennium Pie

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A long, long time ago…
I can still remember how
Computers used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I could make electrons dance,
And maybe I’d be happy for a while.

But January made me shiver,
it chilled me deep down in my liver,
Bad news I’d collected…
I couldn’t get connected.

I can’t remember back that day
When I first learned of Y2K
But something touched me anyway,
The day computers died.

So, …Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi
Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was dry
And good ol’ boys were sending e-mail replies
Saying this will be the day I retire
this will be the day I retire

Can you write in C plus plus?
And do you have faith in your local bus
If the driver tells you so?
Do you believe in Compaq’s goals
Can software save your mortal soul
And can you teach me how to type real slow?

Well I thought that you were prepared
‘Cause your memo said you weren’t impaired
Your stationery’s swell
But you can go to hell

I was a lonely teenage Unix hack
With an incantation and a modem jack
but I knew the cat had left the sack
The day computers died I started singin’…

Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi
Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was dry
And good ol’ boys were sending e-mail replies
Saying this will be the day I retire
this will be the day I retire

Now for 10 years we’ve ignored the threat
And we haven’t solved the problem yet
But that’s not how it used to be

When the luddites read for the king and queen
with a light they filled with kerosene
And some manuals they stole from you and me
And while Bill Gates was looking pleased
Time stole his monopolies
The courtroom was adjourned
No verdict was returned

While Apple tried a color scheme
The engineers returned to steam
And we had purges of their dreams
The day computers died We were singin’

Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi
Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was dry
And good ol’ boys were sending e-mail replies
Saying this will be the day I retire
this will be the day I retire

Intel inside in an iron smelter
The food leftover from my fallout shelter
Twinkies old and aging fast
I’d rather eat the grass
Q and A tried for a system crash
With the tester on the sidelines in a cast
Now the timeshare net was running Doom
While mainframes played a marching tune
We all tried to log in
Oh, but we never could begin

‘Cause Cobol tried to take the field,
And Holerith refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day computers died?

We started singing Bye, bye to the next digit of Pi
Ran my PC on some DC but the voltage was…..
01110000100101001011000100010111000110100101…….

The Bill Gates Song

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(To the Tune of “the Christmas Song”)

Netscape roasting on an open fire,
Apple begging on its knees,
Photo popping up on Time magazine,
Yes, Bill Gates dreams of days like these!

Everybody knows he’s never fully satisfied,
Throws himself behind each task,
World dominion is his company’s goal.
Well, hey, is that so much to ask?

He knows the world is in his sway,
We’ll buy whatever software he might toss our way,
We’ll surf his Internet, watch his TV,
He’ll take us anywhere we ask him–for a fee.

And so we’re offering this simple prayer,
To Bill and all his MS grunts:
Since we all follow any standard you write,
Make it good, please,
Make it good, please,
Make it good, please, just once!

Jewish Country Western Songs

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  • “I Was One of the Chosen People (‘Til She Chose Somebody Else)”
  • “Honkey Tonk Nights on the Golan Heights”
  • “I’ve Got My Foot On The Glass, Where Are You? “
  • “My Rowdy Friend Elijah’s Comin’ Over Tonight”
  • “New Bottle of Whiskey, Same Old Testament”
  • “Stand by Your Mensch”
  • “Eighteen Wheels and a Dozen Latkes”
  • “I Balanced Your Books, but You’re Breaking My Heart”
  • “My Darlin’s a Schmendrick and I’m All Verklempt”
  • “That Shiksa Done Made off with My Heart Like a Goniff”
  • “The Second Time She Said ‘Shalom’, I Knew She Meant ‘Goodbye'”
  • “You’re the Lox My Bagel’s Been Missin'”
  • “You’ve Been Talkin’ Hebrew in Your Sleep Since that Rabbi Came to Town”
  • “Mamas Don’t Let Your Ungrateful Sons Grow Up to Be Cowboys (When They Could Very Easily Have Just Taken Over the Family Hardware Business that My Own Grandfather Broke His Back to Start and My Father Sweated Over for Years Which Apparently Doesn’t Mean Anything Now That You’re Turning Your Back on Such a Gift)”

Do Re Mi Beer

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by Homer J. Simpson

DOUGH… the stuff…that buys me beer…

RAY….. the guy that sells me beer…

ME…… the guy… who drinks the beer,

FAR….. the distance to my beer

SO…… I think I’ll have a beer…

LA…… La la la la la la beer

TEA….. no thanks, I’m drinking beer…

That will bring us back to…(Looks into an empty glass)

DOH!