Meeting of the Minds Less One
The usual suspects
Gathered at noon
To share a modest repast.
The conversation was mundane.
Its value: debatable.
Real work began post-prandial.
Brandy flowed.
Cigars glowed.
Smoke spiraled to the ceiling.
The tide was high.
The time was nigh.
Here's Slugo:
Chair of the meeting:
"Gentlemen
Rogues
Rakes
Thieves!
'Lie down with dogs,
Wake up with fleas!'"
Chorus of Hot-and-Cold-Running Sycophants:
here here
yee-ha
woo woo
tee hee
We work for "you name your bureaucracy."
"We take our cue from history.
The prodigal son made fools of his family.
Now it's our turn to cavort.
Responsibility? Snort! Snort!
We'll take Cain.
They can have Abel.
Screw the horses in the stable!"
The hubbub rose skyward
Along with the smoke,
Threatening them all anon to choke.
The pounding was deafening.
The whining piteous:
They cried out for ideas
Ever more hideous.
Wattager dragged his
Face to the lectern:
That gray-bearded Ominous Grease:
And offered a suggestion
To the rowdy bunch:
"Hey boys, here's how to save
our precious lunch!"
Silence reigned
Like King Louis himself:
One for the dwarf:
Two for the elf.
Eyes freed of scales,
Ears freed of wax,
The smoked cleared:
Here's the facts:
"It's all a fraud,
A fake, a farce.
The truth is irrelevant.
Kiss my arse."
Second Chorus of Hot-and-Cold-Running Sycophants:
here here
yee-ha
woo woo
tee hee
We work for "name your bureaucracy."
"It's all a play kabuki.
The plot is very slim.
Wear a mask:
Pose a' Vogue:
Kiss some ass:
Get some trim."
"Spoils to the victor go:
He has the sharpest axe.
Split your neighbor's head
Whilst he's asleep in bed.
No regrets:
post facto, ex."
"Here's the plan:
It always works:
Listen up
all you jerks:
"Call it a learning experience.
Create more bureaucracy.
Around the next corner: victory!
You're the experts:
Stake your claim:
Who's to say
You're to blame?"
"Define strategy.
Create work plans.
Institute control.
Make sure no
work gets done at all.
That would be a waste.
Believe me:
I am the abattoir
of good taste."
They cheered and hollered.
He had saved the day.
"What an idea!
Let's make hay!"
Slugo rose to the lectern,
The final part to deliver:
"We've heard the word:
We've seen the answer:
I vote for Wattager:
He ain't no prancer."
By acclamation they agreed
To stick with Wattager's creed.
It had worked so far
All through the ages:
Who were they to turn the pages?
Third Verse Same as The First from Chorus of Hot-and-Cold-Running
Sycophants:
here here
yee-ha
woo woo
tee hee
We work for "you name your bureaucracy."
The storm had passed,
They're back to normal:
Braindead,
Lethargic,
Vitriolic,
Hormonal.
More sainted words
Were never spoken:
"It's all a fraud,
A fake, a farce.
The truth is irrelevant.
Kiss my arse."
