WISDOM

I thirsted for knowledge,
I longed to understand,
About the world around me,
Not leaving anything to chance

I packed all my belongings,
And headed for the hills,
To find the Monk of Knowledge,
And screw these self-help shills

I traveled days and nights,
Through rain and sleet and snow,
To the highest mountain,
As far as I could go

I reached the cavern entrance,
Then spied the prophet's lair,
He sat upon a toilet seat,
Stroking greasy, crusty hair

I knelt so low before him,
Exhausted from the trip,
I then worked up the courage,
And these words passed my lips:

"Oh great Font of Foresight,
I left my children and my wife,
So I could finally meet you,
And discover the meaning of my life!"

He looked at me so kindly,
And I'll not soon forget,
The wisdom he imparted,
On his garlic laded breath:

"Oswald shot the President,
Jimmy Hoffa's in concrete,
We didn't land on the moon,
And porn stars have dirty feet."


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