The Sorrows of The Mediocre

Poor poor Ralphie was a man
Who spent his life an also-ran
And though he tried with all his might
The ‘almost perfect but not quite’
Was heard as a nonstop refrain
And soon to be his sad life’s bane

School passed by predictably
With his average solid B
Involved in sports but to his nettle
His room adorned with silver medals
He never made the football team
Or dated the homecoming queen

He settled with a decent gal
But thought her more a sort of pal
Though long of leg and slim of waist
Just something off about her face
And so she joined him for the ride
And she too bridesmaid never bride

And Ralph he wrote though not the best
He cursed his marginal success
At wisdom some found somewhat sage
Though buried on an obscure page
But all that found it surely would
Agree that it was ‘pretty good’

And so with all his life to shoulder
The sorrows of the mediocre
He found himself long in the tooth
And simply figured what’s the use
“I never will find fame or wealth
I might as well just off myself

Perhaps when they call me ‘the late’
These silly fools will think I’m great”
And so after a few events
Which ended up as failed attempts
Ralphie took his final bow
Though none really remember how

But as he went heavenward soaring
Happy to see the whole world mourning
In aftermath of his sad death
To heaven’s gate with arms outstretched
Angels with their golden books
Gazed towards him with beatific looks

But as he reached St. Peter’s side
They merely told him step aside
And so he became quite downhearted
When he saw why those gates parted
He would have waited if he’d known he’d
Die on the same day as Bowie.

'If you couldn't get into clubs, what makes you think you can get in here?'

‘If you couldn’t get into clubs, what makes you think you can get in here?’

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The Girl On The Bus

Charlie rode the bus each day
And as he traveled thus
In his commute he met a girl
Called The Girl On the Bus

And every day they’d talk and talk
And everyday he’d swear
That he did know Girl on the Bus
Though he knew not from where

And then one day it came to him
And he was simply floored
To find the Bus Girl was the one
He’d seen on the Billboard

And also in commercials
And in that sitcom scene
He even saw Girl On the Bus
In fashion magazines

So he saw this now Billboard Girl
Later on that week
It seemed the cat had got his tongue
So he could hardly speak

The Girl she had hurt feelings
Why was it Charlie hid?
She didn’t know what happened
(But she kind of did)

And so they never spoke again
Though both would think back thus
To a simpler time when she
Was The Girl on the Bus

This is an oldie for me, one I never published because I didn’t think it was funny enough. I was reminded of it because my husband brings my daughter to School of Rock every week and talks to another dad there. He finally figured out this guy was Oliver Hudson, as in Goldie Hawn’s son, as in Kate Hudson’s brother. Anyway, I decided to publish with a little revamping, although my husband swears he is not nervous to speak to the guy again.

RIP David Bowie

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