Misquoting Maslow

Chris Clarke, in the Pharyngula comments can be paraphrased:

"With tools," Maslow said, "it is true
That if hammers were all that you knew,
Then inevitably
Any problems you see
Would appear as messiahs to you."

Tentacle Tango

Pharyngula: More cephalopod art

Dim the lights for a tantric temptation;
Feel this rhythm of writhing elation;
Great Ones watch us askance as the night bids us dance
And the music demands the tentacle tango.

All alone in your tank, are you sighing?
Let me taste every tear that you're dyeing;
Feel the lure of my charms; leave your marks on my arms;
Come to me, and we'll trip the tentacle tango.

As I fondle each sensuous sucker
Is it out of the question to pucker?
Your rapturous grip makes each dance step a trip
When we dance, beak to cheek, the tentacle tango.

Though my friends say I'm wasting my life on
A wet bag with eight legs and a siphon,
Still I'm lost without trace in your tactile embrace
Every time we attempt the tentacle tango.

The Tricoplax

Pharyngula: Trichoplax adhaerans
Pharyngula: Urmetazoa rising

'Twas saltish and the Tricoplax
Did slick and suckenge on the glass
For algea-nums, as tasty snacks
Digested through its ass.

The placozoan backwardly
Could not its urgenome compute,
So pondered he the Linnean tree
And whimsied at its root.

Now, while the blob was thus entranced
And whitecoats geeked the beastie's kin
To ply analyses advanced,
Front-loaders came to spin.

"Regress! Regress! Past lives confess!"
The new age destinist besought;
"You can't resist my telic twist
For nothing comes from naught.

Hast thou not grokked the maker's sig
Encrypted deep in every whit,
As hints the Behemothic FIG-
JAM's a cappella hit?"

But like the Tricoplax's sperm
The loader's preconceptual clue
Could ne'er an observation germ,
So nothing from it grew.

'Twas saltish and the Tricoplax
Did slick and suckenge on the glass
For algea-nums, as tasty snacks
Digested through its ass.