Saturday, March 12, 2005

Discover the Bioterrorist Network

Pharyngula: Discover Your Momma's Network

At the foot of the garden's the Wart Patrol,
The frog in his puddle; the toad in his hole,
The beetle, the slug and the star-nosed mole.
Their looks are awful; their plans are worse--
Look out, or they'll give you the Ugly Curse.

In the sheltering trees, there's the Squawk Brigade
Birds in the sunshine and bats in the shade,
Fast-breeding flappers who ought to be spayed!
Don't venture near them; you're sure to be pecked
Or scratched, or beshitted; your shirt will be wrecked.

Let's not neglect, now, the Cult of the Bite:
The bee, the mosquito, the tick and the mite;
The scurrilous spider, who sneaks in at night.
Up with the zappers and out with the spray
(Though they'll always return, swat as you may.)

Also, beware of the Bearers of Fleas;
The cats and the rats and the Dee-Oh-Gees.
They may appear friendly and eager to please,
But they're really just filthy old bags of disease,
with thousands of parasites biting their knees!

Next, there's the terrible Salmonelloids,
The turtles and fishes and ophiuroids,
Lurking in pestilent deep-water voids.
They might look delicious, served up on a plate,
But these are the treacherous "something one ate".

We are their smorgasbord; they are our foe;
The otter, the springbok, the horse and the crow.
They'll be there waiting, wherever we go.
They'll bite us and sting us and crap on our heads,
They'll not be content until Mankind is dead!

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