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If you were the star
Of a fuck film
Fox TV would scream
That you deserve an Oscar
Cause while you butt-f**k
They proudly spread K-Y
And if you farted
In an elevator
Most of us would press
The nearest button
But you can crap on
Someone’s country
And the stench gets
Bill O’Reilly high
Help me Dear Abby
What does etiquette dictate
Who cares what fork we use
If there’s no food
Darfur and sweet old N’awlins
Dead Iraqis, dead Marines
You mus’ admit
Dat all of dis shit’s
Just a tad bit rude.
Why everyone knows
If you take a lady's hand
Before she offers it
It’s grabby.
But if you grab a lady’s land
No sirens start to wail
No air horn honks
Dear Abby please
Might we discuss this matter over tea
Sincerely yours,
In Da Bronx