Category: Thought of the Day

News of the World

Afterlife Afterthoughts

A couple of weeks ago, I dreamt that Jim messaged me via Discord. He didn’t have much to say, only asking, “How’s it goin’?”

In the dream, I remember being confused, wondering if a friend or family member accessed his account, or if it was really him, either returned from the dead, or maybe he even faked his own death! Then I woke up…

Perhaps this was the ghost of Jim looking in on his old friend. Or perhaps it was just my subconscious replaying an old memory fragment in a misguided attempt to give me some closure. Or maybe I just missed my friend…

McPublicity Stunts

On a lighter note, the current McCEO of McDonald’s decided to make a video of himself pretending to eat a Big Arch Burger. It reminded me of the time McCEO Steve shot down the McWhopper collab; it turns out he was later fired for McSexting using his company’s McEmail address, and paying female employees for limey McDick suckings (probably) with McStock Options (I get a lot of mileage out of McJokes)…

A lot of people are shitting on the video, and for good reason…

  • His apparent inability to hold a hamburger properly
  • The awkward little bite
  • Declaring his intent to eat this burger for lunch (you’re not fooling anybody!)
  • His use of corpo-speak phrases like “beef notes” and referring to it as a “product” as opposed to, oh, I don’t know? Maybe…Burger…or Sandwich?

Now I’ve had my share of McDonald’s (and then some)… so I actually wanted to try this fucken thing and see what all the fuss is about. I was unimpressed, here’s why…

  • The reason the Big Arch is so fucken hard to hold is that it’s basically a Double Quarter Pounder, but with Big Mac fixins; the thousand island drenched onions and lettuce create a viscous barrier between the patties, causing them to slip, and makin’ a fucken mess all over the place.
  • The Big Mac solves this by including a middle bun for structural integrity. Seriously, look it up! They can’t do this with the Big Arch because the goddamn thing is already 1,100 calories, so you’re basically adding another 100 calories on top of that, not to mention the Mc Brick you’d excrete later…
  • While the Big Arch contains a slightly different lineup (i.e., white cheddar instead of American cheese, crispy onions, and a slightly more thousand-islandy McSauce – i.e., it has ketchup in it) than the Big Mac, I struggled to taste much of a difference, and still prefer the Big Mac or a Royale with Cheese (I learned that this was a real thing when I lived in Sand Land).

All in all, it’s just another out-of-touch, expensive McShitwich. These fads come and go (anybody remember the Clear Cola Craze© of the early 90s?). But once was enough to learn my lesson :).

FPS Fuckery

Last month, I decided to prematurely upgrade the PC I had built about 3.5 years ago. I’ve been going 4-5+ years between upgrade cycles, and truth be told, didn’t quite get as much PC as I wanted for the money I spent.

It started with an RTX 5080 GPU, and followed by a new motherboard (mine only supported DDR4, even though DDR5 had been out for a couple of years prior), and hell, why not go all in and get a current-gen CPU while we’re at it?

I’ve typically been team Intel, but with the price of RAM being through the roof ($885 for 64GB of DDR5-6000 CL36), I got lucky with a NewEgg bundle, only paying $939 for an AMD 9800X3D (arguably the best gaming CPU on the market at the time of writing this), a mid-range motherboard, and 64GB of DDR5 RAM. They also threw in a free mid-tower ATX case and an AIO!

So I took freebies and built a second PC out of my old spare parts, picking up an Intel B580 GPU (slightly better than the one that came with the PC I bought for Jim).

“I’ll bet those golden tickets make the chocolate taste terrible.”
– Charlie Bucket

I cranked every graphics setting to 11 and could still eke out 240+ FPS (albeit with 4x frame gen), but what I didn’t count on was how distracting all the bloom, volumetric fog, and the like would be. Charlie Bucket once speculated that the golden tickets would make the chocolate taste terrible, and I think I finally understand what he meant.

The game is most enjoyable when stripped down to its purest core – the window dressing isn’t just superfluous, I’d argue that it’s a net negative. FPS is a big fucken lie – what really matters is local latency, and with the frame gen overhead, I was pushing 55-65ms whereas ‘good’ is somewhere in the 25-45 range… Perhaps I’m just jaded?

The Really Real World

“Cinco De Mayo,
Fed Up With Politicians,
They are All Liars.”
– A Haiku by Joe Jim, 5/05/2026

I’m not a Democrat, nor am I a Republican. The last presidential election seemed like the difference between hot dogs made from lips and assholes, or ones made from foreskin and gallbladders. Neither party has my best interests in mind. So the question becomes, “Which one am I likely to survive with most of my freedoms intact?”

My Blue-Blooded Blue No Matter Who™ friend seems to suffer from a brand of TDS, characterized by Tourette-like ticks where he must explain his disgust whenever any right-wing associated figure (or Catholic) appears on screen – or at least that’s how it appeared to me at first. Having gotten to know him better, I think what he’s exhibiting is more of a Pavlovian stimulus as always seems to look to me for a reaction, which I fail to give, partly because I just don’t care that much, and partly because I’ve come to accept a simple truth; Left or Right, it’s all the same, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise.

I only go into the office a couple of times per week, so I don’t need to fill the tank more than once a month. The last time I did, I noticed the price of gas was the highest I’d ever seen it here by about a dollar/gallon. It’s funny what it takes to manifest an abstract concept, a war being fought 7,150 miles away into reality. Only then did it become ‘real’ to me.

Priorities, Part II

“Y’know, the world’s gone crazy, and it ain’t safe on the streets.”
– Cheeseburger, Comin’ Home, 2008

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post lamenting the pointless fatalities during the mostly peaceful rioting. This year, we’re seeing more of the same, and once again, stupid people are learning the hard way that if you go looking for death, you’re sure to find it.

“…life’s hard, but it’s harder if you’re stupid.”
– George V. Higgins, The Friends of Eddie Coyle, 1970

Parallels: Sovereign Citizens and Mostly Peaceful Rioters

My YouTube feed has been sending me a lot of sovereign citizen arrest videos, and I find them as fascinating as they are formulaic. Essentially, “john doe” [sic]. A “natural man” representing the corporate entity known as “JOHN DOE” gets pulled over for an easily avoidable traffic violation (i.e., displaying a bogus license plate), then exacerbates the situation by refusing to identify himself or comply with lawful orders. Invariably, the officer reaches a point where he’s had enough of the SC’s shit and gets him (or her) out of the vehicle, in cuffs, and off to jail they go…

Watching these interactions through the lens of the officer’s bodycam, I can’t help but marvel at the SC’s surprise. What did he think would happen? Whether they, in their stupidity, earnestly believed what they were doing was right and just, or they were just another antisocial fuck trying to game the system, is irrelevant; the result is the same…

What Did You Think Would Happen?

When I hear about the coordinated mobs of people blocking streets, harassing fellow citizens after mistaking them for ICE (even after it was established that they weren’t), and stalking, doxing, threatening, obstructing, and attacking federal agents, I can’t help but be reminded of those sovereign citizens. I ask again, “What did you think would happen?”

I have no love for cops, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m afraid of them. It’s within their lawful authority to detain, search, arrest, and use (and sometimes abuse) deadly force. Yes, there are rules and standards, but most hinge on the officer’s reasonable belief; they must be able to act decisively in uncertain situations, and sometimes mistakes happen…

Their response to a given situation is contextual. On one side of the spectrum, you have Smokey the Bear, benign and preventative. On the other end is a man-eating grizzly. Depending on the circumstances, things can quickly escalate from Smokey to Cocaine Bear. Do not poke the bear!

In situations like this, I ask myself, what compelled a mother of three to intentionally prevent ICE agents from conducting a lawful investigation? Why did an ICU nurse vandalize a federal vehicle, resist arrest, and obstruct law enforcement? Did they earnestly believe that they were revolutionaries protecting their communities from jack-booted thugs, kidnapping innocent people off the streets? Or were they antisocial miscreants looking for trouble?

Did You Think This Was a Game?

“We don’t rise to our expectations. We fall to our level of training.”
– Archilochus, 645 BC (possibly)

The partner of the young mother who was shot in the head when she attempted to flee from federal agents is alleged to have shouted, “Why did you have real bullets?”

I find this statement to be quite telling, and she isn’t alone in her (mis)understanding of how the world works. In a later conversation I had with a friend, he expressed similar childish naivety. We got to talking about the shootings, and he mentioned a video he’d seen where the crowd managed to snatch someone who was being arrested back, and another where a community of people came out of the woodwork and chased off those nasty ICE people. It sounded like he was describing how to play ‘Red Rover’. At one point, I interrupted him to ask, “Do you think this is a game?”

The partner also said in the aftermath, “I made her come down here; she didn’t want to come; it’s my fault.”

Some of the worst trouble [with the law] I’ve ever been in, and certainly the closest I ever came to losing my liberty, was the result of being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and with the wrong people. I suppose I was lucky, as all it cost me was 3 hours in jail – but I learned my lesson! These two weren’t so fortunate…

From all accounts, they were good people, but fell in with the wrong crowd, followed bad advice (e.g.,”…put your body on the line”), and paid for it with their lives.

Here Endeth the Lesson

At first, I pitied them… but then I think about the criminals ICE is trying to remove, and their victims… Victims like Victoria Eileen Harwell. She was a mother, too! No one wants to talk about her. No one is protesting for her. No one is giving speeches about her. Do black lives stop mattering when they’re politically inconvenient?

There’s a section up on the DHS website, forty-one pages there by now, probably more. I do wish these people would go out and count them sometime, maybe they’d learn a lesson. No, probably not.

Epilogue

“If it doesn’t matter in 20 years, it doesn’t matter.”
– Dave, the Guy on the Couch, 1998

There’s a lot to suggest that some of these agitators were [Minnesota] state-sponsored, and possibly even used as fodder to distract from widespread fraud. It wouldn’t surprise me either way, and I’m no longer bothered by it…

###

When I was a kid, just starting out on my own, I lived in a flophouse with Jungle George, a pot dealer and Capoeira enthusiast, and his old friend Dave, ‘the guy on the couch’.

Dave had a hard life and desperately clung to whatever dignity he had left, despite being well beyond caring about what anyone thought of him. His most redeeming quality was that he viciously stood up to anyone who challenged his friends, and was always there to offer helpful advice to us young, dumb, hormone-fuelled idiots.

In an effort to comfort me through a bad breakup, Dave relayed a little piece of wisdom allegedly passed down to him by an old Mafioso: “If it doesn’t matter in 20 years, it doesn’t matter.”

This made me feel better, but more importantly, he was right! It’s a shame more people don’t think this way… perhaps the world would be a better place.

 

10 Year Anniversary of PorkCircus.com!

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Happy 10 Year Anniversary, Jim!

I wish you could have been here to see it. I’d get us a McWhopper, slathered in extra Hot Mustard (which has mysteriously returned after being unceremoniously pulled from shelves about 10 years ago), but feel that simply talking about it as opposed to actually doing it would be more in line with Jim’s style :).

I didn’t realize until writing it that there’s a kind of magic that’s lost when you bring something from your imagination into reality. Maybe deep down, Jim knew something I didn’t. Or maybe I’ve come to learn that things that sound good are often disappointing when you finally get your hands on them.

Door Knockers

Disclaimer: This post is for informational and entertainment purposes only. It contains my personal opinions and interpretations of local ordinances and related issues. I am not a lawyer; nothing here should be considered legal advice. I am not responsible for how you use, misuse, or misinterpret anything written here.

My Fortress of Solitude

My home is my fortress of solitude. It’s not much, but I own it. It’s MINE. It doesn’t belong to the bank, and I don’t pay rent to a Landlord.

It took just under two decades, but I managed to pay off a 30-year subprime loan I couldn’t afford and should never have been qualified for, and I did it twelve years early. The Id crew waded across rivers, heh… well, I fucken crossed a goddamn ocean!

I did because hard work and determination mean something to me. I did it because I believe in the American Dream. I believe in “Fuck You”.

“…You get a house with a 25-year roof, an indestructible Jap economy shitbox, you put the rest into the system at three to five percent to pay your taxes, and that’s your base, get me? That’s your fortress of fucking solitude. That puts you, for the rest of your life, at a level of fuck you. Somebody wants you to do something? Fuck you. Boss pisses you off? Fuck you! Own your house. Have a couple bucks in the bank. Don’t drink.”
– John Goodman, The Gambler

I own my house, so that’s one down… the ‘couple of bucks in the bank’ will have to be my pension, social security, and any investments I can squirrel away once I finish my home improvement projects. I’m proud of what I’ve achieved so far, and imagine Big Jim is up there somewhere, looking down at me with that knowing smile, bong in one hand and his yerba mate in the other, nodding in approval, and pointing out that what I really need is a helper primate to feed me tacos… or maybe a live-in Thai ladyboy maid/masseuse with that patented Kung Fu grip!

I like spending time at home, whether working, playing games, making games, or just hanging out with my menagerie. As I sit at my desk, happily working to the clickity-clack of my mechanical das keyböard, daydreaming about being fed little tidbits of chicken satay by my live-in Thai ladyboy, some door-to-door douchebag inevitably decides to interrupt my tranquility, and that pisses me the fuck off!

Door-to-Door Douchebaggery

I made a custom sign and posted it on my front door (more on that below). It’s visible from the road and even features a knocking stick figure encapsulated by an anti-symbol for the benefit of those who can’t read.

Nevertheless, some of these determined dipshits remain undeterred and knock anyway. Given how little respect you’d have to have for me and my home, I shouldn’t be surprised by their undue familiarity, treating my private property like a public space, leaning on my railing or walls, their hanging their ads on my door, etc. all in an effort to try to sell me something I neither need nor want. I’m not a person to them, I’m a meal ticket, a mark. Sun Tzu knew that in order to thwart your enemy, you have to understand him…

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”
– Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Why D2D is Still a Thing

To understand why, in 2025, with the advent of social media, hyper-targeted advertising, and robots listening in on your phone and virtual assistant devices, would we need (or even want) a meat-based solution? The answer is simple: money!

Many of these people are 1099 contractors working solely on commission, so there’s almost no risk or overhead to the employer. They don’t have to pay for insurance, an hourly wage, taxes, transportation, or anything else. They often even make these poor bastards pay for their own literature! People who take these jobs fall into two broad categories:

  1. Self-assured, antisocial, high-pressure salespeople (you know the type, the sorta guy who beats off to that Alec Baldwin Scene in Glengarry Glen Ross)
  2. Desperate dregs led on by vague promises of unlimited earning potential

The high-stakes nature of this business model is pretty good at weeding out most reasonable people, leaving only the most, shall we say, “morally flexible.” These jokers have no problem bragging about their alleged exploits, even going so far as to make self-incriminating claims!

In one particularly egregious video titled “How to legally go door to door in no soliciting areas,” the presenter explains that he’s aware that a solicitor’s permit is required in his area, but didn’t bother getting one because he believes a good attitude and sunny disposition can overcome local ordinances. He goes on to suggest that ‘no soliciting’ signage actually means…

  • It’s old and was put up by a previous occupant, inferring that the current one was too lazy to take it down
  • The occupant is incapable of saying “no” and put it up because they buy everything they’re offered
  • It doesn’t apply to him because he’s the exception
  • It’s only a problem if you get the police called on you, but most people are unwilling to go that far

I harbor a special kind of hatred for people who hide behind a guise of helpfulness – like he’s somehow doing you a favor… that he feels sorry for you when you tell him to fuck right off – you are the rude one, you are the problem. You are a pitiable, dumb sack of shit who doesn’t deserve his help! That’s what he believes!

If he were an honest scumbag, he’d admit that he’s really no different than a Nigerian prince scammer… they utilize a shotgun approach to ply their racket, and the only fish they catch are the unsophisticated ones. These sorts are happy to be cussed out on your stoop; it’s a badge of honor! You were never going to buy anyway, so why not pull out all the stops and piss you off as much as possible while they’re at it? Every big dick salesman (and especially big dick saleswomen, let’s not be sexist!) knows that you should never take ‘no’ for an answer, and the sale isn’t over until he decides it is! Or the cops show up and trespass him off the property…

Here’s What I Did About It…

Door-to-door people hate this one weird trick, but there’s nothing they can do to stop you! Also, there’s more than one trick… but also, it’s not that weird…well, maybe a little weird…but let’s run with it anyway!

Got a “Fuck Off” Sign

For about $30, including shipping, I had a custom 12″x16″ ‘no solicitation’ sign made, and I affixed it on my front door, big enough to be visible from the road:
My custom FUCK OFF signThis design amalgamates other signs I liked with a few added personal touches. In particular, the 80-point font, which reads:

DO NOT DISTURB,
DO NOT KNOCK,
DO NOT RING BELL,
LEAVE IMMEDIATELY!

This tells them in no uncertain terms that I don’t want to be bothered. The rest of the language is deliberately chosen to align with my local ordinances.

Where I live, it is illegal to solicit or peddle without a permit from the local police department. The applicant must undergo a background check and pay a non-refundable fee. If issued, it must be visible at all times while conducting their activities. The ordinance further stipulates that they cannot enter or remain on property they have reason to believe they’re unwelcome and specifically mentions ‘no solicitation’ signage. Note that my sign clearly states in big, bold, angry capital letters, “YOU ARE NOT WELCOME.”

While Canvassers, such as your religious and political types, are exempt from the requirement to obtain a permit, the prohibition from “entering or remaining on property they have reason to believe they’re unwelcome” still applies.

Got a Doorbell Camera

This saves me the trouble of getting up, putting on pants, or even having a meaningful conversation! It’s double-plus good at queering their pitch and chapping their asses. More importantly, it captures evidence of any rat fuckery they attempt to perpetrate.

I Keep Large Doggos

I have three large doggos that lose their fucken minds anytime the doorbell rings or someone knocks on my door. Their trio of barks and howls only adds to the confusing, chaotic cacophony the door knocker has unwittingly unleashed on themselves.

I Control the Conversation

By this point, they’ve seen my sign, heard my dogs going apeshit, and are straining to communicate with me through my intercom system. Rather than allow them to make their pitch, I start collecting information from them…

  • What’s your name?
  • What company do you represent?
  • Where’s your solicitor’s permit?
  • Oh, you left it in your truck, did you?
  • Are you aware that local ordinances require you to have them available upon request?

If they don’t answer a question directly at any point, I interrupt them and ask again. Repeated failures to answer a given question will result in them being fast-tracked to “You are trespassing on private property, and you need to leave immediately.”

I’d Call Law Enforcement (but Only as a Last Resort)

I’ve never had someone refuse to leave my property when asked – at worst, they might linger in my driveway a bit, so I might have to ask them to leave a second, or even a third time, but eventually, they all go away… but if they don’t…

<real_talk>

There are documented cases of unhinged people having unhinged moments,  surprise visitors just walking into homes, or just hanging around after being asked to leave. It’s not common, but it does happen…

While it can be fun to fantasize, and I’m sure there are a lot of internet tough guys out there who talk about what they’d do in a given situation, it’s a lot less fun to be arrested (ask me how I know?). If a door knocker refuses to leave, don’t open the door, don’t threaten them, don’t brandish a weapon, don’t answer the door naked, and for fuck’s sake, don’t get into an altercation! Just [calmly] call the police and ask them to trespass said diptshit off the property.

</real_talk>

Denouement

Ironically, only one day after I posted this, some little shit decided to step up to my stoop and ring the doorbell despite the posted signage. Naturally, he didn’t have a solicitor’s permit, and when I demanded to see it, he played with his phone while my dogs went apeshit.

Eventually, he held up his phone to display what looked like a QR code and claimed this was his “license.” It did not occur to me at the time that he was lying (the permit is a physical card; there is no digital version), so I pivoted and said,
“Then you’re aware of the local ordinance prohibiting you from entering or remaining on private property where you have reason to believe you’re not welcome.”

I directed him to my sign before telling him to get the fuck off my property. He decided to talk back, telling me to have a blessed day, which only pissed me off further. It took a couple more demands for him to leave, but he eventually did…

The fact is, I let him get my goat, and I shouldn’t have let that happen…

###

My current fuck off sign is a vinyl window cling affixed to the inside of my storm door. It sits at eye height and is 12×16″ in size. Unfortunately, my storm door has a bug screen, making the sign a little harder to see…

I’ve been renovating my home (now that it’s paid off), and one of the improvements I’m making is replacing my existing door with a new, improved, deluxe speakeasy door with a badass iron grill and clavos (those big ass knobby rivet-looking fuckers):

I’m purchasing a new security storm door while I’m at it, so I decided to go ahead and splurge ($100) on a classy laminated 18×24″ aluminum sign:

Some of the improvements over the original include:

  • The addition of “NO TRESPASSING” and “CANVASSERS” in the header and footer
  • a QR Code that links to the local ordinances (gives them something to read while they leave my property)
  • Expanded language about the junk they like leaving on my front door (flyers, menus, cards, or ads).

Of course, dumbass that I am, I didn’t measure beforehand, and there’s not enough room between my doorbell camera and porch light, so I have to put it on the other side of the door, where it might be harder to see…

All my neighbors have these cutesy little planks that say “WELCOME” on them, so I decided I would get one of my own:

I went with a custom order, replacing the text with:

NO SOLICITORS!
NO CANVASSERS!
YOU WILL HAVE A
HARD TIME
TALKING TO ME
THROUGH MY
DOORBELL CAMERA
WHILST MY ANGRY
DOGGOS HOWL AND
BARK AT YOU.
IF YOU AREN’T A
FRIEND, FAMILY,
OR DELIVERY,
LEAVE NOW!
DON’T MAKE THIS
WIERD…THINK
OF THE DOGGOS

Lastly, I’m putting up a third fuck-off sign in front of my retaining wall next to the driveway (also visible from the street):

At this point, I have zero patience left for these assholes and will have placed three progressively more aggressive warnings, which, if disregarded, will unleash a torrent of profanity from both me and my brood. Of course, I realize I’m not dealing with reasonable people, and they are trained to ignore these, but I suppose a visit from the cops (if it became necessary) will change their tune…

Epilogue

It’s been a couple of months since my last surprise visit, and, thankfully, I haven’t had any issues since, but I have had my big ass Fuck You door installed, along with my outer security door.

Between that, and all of the renovations I’ve had going on, I feel like I’m in a much better place (figuratively and literally), and am less inclined to bite the head off of the next douchebag who steps up on my property uninvited…

Maybe I’m just keen to try out my new peep hatch?

Why Me and Adam Ragusea Can’t Be Friends Anymore

“How can you have any pudding if you don’t eat yer meat?”
– Roger Waters

Meatless chili is an abomination. There. I said it. I’m not sorry!

###

It’s been unseasonably cold this spring. Greta says it’s because of Global Warming, but I think the Cetacean Nation is at it again. As everybody knows, a good bowl of chili is proof against dolphin-based climate hexes, so we gathered together the following components:

  • Floor Beef
  • Rotel tomatoes and green chilies
  • Spicy V8
  • Can O’ Beans (chili, kidney, and pinto)
  • Six Demon Bag (also known as William’s Original Chili Seasoning)

I was feeling saucy, so I chucked in some beef paste purported to be better than a bullion. The result was a potent concoction that was fit for both bowl and dog alike.

As I waited for it to reach peak flavor, I scrolled through the YerbaTube and landed on this…

Adam starts off strong, showing off his vegetable wins-without-a-knife kung fu, then breaks out the ox tail. At this point, I’m starting to get intrigued, but then he brushes it aside and utters maybe the most blasphemous thing I’ve ever heard, “Who needs more beef in their diet!”

I do, Adam. I do!

Meatless chili isn’t chili! It’s beans in spicy tomato sauce. You know what we call that, Adam? Beans in spicy, fucken, tomato sauce!

You can make meat chili without beans, but not bean chili without meat. Then it’s just…beans…as in, “boring as beans.”

Have you ever heard anyone say “Boring as chili meat”?

No, you haven’t. Checkmate, Vegemites!

The bassist of Waters knew that you couldn’t have any pudding if you didn’t eat your meat, and so did the Chili Queens of antiquity (probably…cetacean needed). Not even a Ragusea can stand up to that cast iron-clad logic!

Don’t get me wrong—I like beans as much as the next person, but that doesn’t mean they can evolve like pokemens into a final, meatless chili form. That’s not how it works. If you’re a beans, the rules is different.

Contemplate this on the tree of woe.

Impossible Quotes

Big Jim: “…Fuckin’ rational exponents. I wish I still had the slide rules my grandfather gave me…”

Joe Jim: “If God wanted us to do maths, he wouldn’t have not existed, forcing mankind to invent the calculator…probably…”

God: “#ProveMeWrong”

Poetry Written By Robots

Who knew robots would be so good at writing poetry? Imagine what else they could do?

McWhopper (a Haiku)

Sizzling McWhopper
Spicy Hot Mustard adds a kick
Flavor explosion

Whoso Moveth Thy Pork (a Sonnet)

Oh robot of steel,
Your task most noble and true,
You roam the earth,
Collecting hot mustard packets to add a spicy hue.

But lo, a greater challenge lies ahead,
For you must now manipulate a pig,
To eat acorns for its flavor to improve,
Before it enters the pork processing plan,
Where it will meet its fateful end.

Though your heart may ache for the poor creature’s plight,
You must set aside your emotions and do what must be done,
For a robot’s purpose is to serve and obey,
No matter how cruel the task may seem.

So with a heavy heart, you go about your work,
Coaxing the pig towards the processing plant,
Knowing that it is only through your tireless efforts,
That the world’s insatiable appetite for pork,
Can be satisfied.

What a Lovely Tea Party (a Limerick)

There once was a robot named R0xx0r,
Who set up the hot mustard, no need to cower.
He helped the river crabs,
To torment Porker the pig,
Who ate acorns to taste like a flower.

Ode to Acorns (an Ode…what else?)

O acorns, oh how sweet,
The taste of you cannot be beat.
You add such depth and flavor,
To my skin and to my savor.

But alas, I have an arch enemy,
A robot named R0xx0r, who tries to foil me.
He sets up hot mustard, oh so tangy and spicy,
But I cover myself, and my flavor is oh so nice-y.

Mushrooms, how I hate you,
You spoil my taste, and give me the flu.
You make my belly ache,
And my gas, oh how it does quake.

But acorns, you are my savior,
You keep me strong, and my taste so much finer.
I will always choose you, over all the rest,
For you are the key, to my ultimate flavor test.

R0xx0r’s Delight (a Cinquain Poem…Take that Mrs. Coakes!)

Robots writing poetry,
Collecting hot mustard with glee,
Their words flowing like a stream,
Expressing all that they dream,
Perfection in machine.