The Modern Curmudgeon

If you've the need to prepare a Script, but you've got nowhere to Set your laptop Then you go set up shop At a Starbucks. Or maybe Panera.

If only I could break in two I'd be able to do what I do More effectively Come to think of it three's What I'd like to be broken into.

Where have you gone, Zachary? I remember, before you turned three You were smiley and smart And you filled up my heart But now you just seem so angry.

We could have gone to Legoland Or swimming and played in the sand Or gone to see Shamu Or the park or the zoo But we didn't. Hope you understand.

The family fights over seating The football, Detroit's chances fleeting The Macy's Parade Casseroles all displayed And now let us give thanks by eating.

When two boys are placed in the back Of a car, going far, and you lack The ability to Play a DVD you Might as well just tell them to attack.

If this movie's story won't break This job may have been a mistake 'Cause all day and all night's More than I want to write And there's only so much I can take.

I wonder if I had a daughter I'd be less hot under the collar 'Cause I swear I'll snap if He keeps singing that riff That begins the song "Smoke On The Water."

A rock and roll party pastiche With a buffet of pizza and quiche As we blast "Back in Black" And the children attack Us like thirty-two freaks on a leash.

The more things change, they stay the same Said someone (can't recall the name). And having just watched Stanford's victory botched That someone may have meant Big Game.

"I'm going to work" he explained The shirt he'd put on that day "Well you look to me Quite like a worker bee" "Actually, Dad, he said, "worker A."

All I want is to complete One night of eight hours sleep Without a kid yelling Without a dog smelling Without a cat biting my feet.

On a seat at the Wiltern, I sit Springs stabbing me through fabric's split It's a good thing the show Really rocks, 'cause you know I'm getting too old for this shit.

Nothing, it seems, is a treat. You cook stuff for kids who don't eat. And they hardly care Until you prepare Spaghetti and balls made of meat.

Sometimes things get lost in the mail. Sometimes you try to no avail. Sometimes you could choke Sometimes life's such a joke And sometimes there's no end to its tale.

I understand sometimes it's rough To be 4, when you've just had enough But don't vent your frustration With your micturation In other words: don't pee on stuff.

Not in the time I've been alive Did I think that I would survive To witness SC Destroyed so completely Them: 21, Us: 55.

When visiting your parents you Do some things you'd rather not do Like make up your bed With the thought in your head "These are sheets on which they used to screw."

You've got some balls, calling me As though we have no history Or as if, at the end You'd behaved as a friend Instead of like an S.O.B.

If you think TV's in the shitter Its content not worth its transmitter You'll be happy to know CBS plans a show That's based on some guy's feed on Twitter.

This morning at six we began With the waking of our little man So we brought him to bed Hoping he'd rest his head For a while. So much for that plan.

Zachary. What do we do With a little boy who acts like you? Are you jealous or worried? Your temper's so hurried I just hope all this shall pass, too.

I'd like to drive a limousine Not so that I would be seen But so when my boys Will not stop making noise I could raise the privacy screen.

When you're a girl turning five Apparently you want to jive 'Cause tonight we will go To a birthday disco Celebrating some stayin' alive.

When you're barely older than two I suppose it's expected that you Will sometimes ingest Things that really aren't best For your stomach... and make your poo blue.

If the screenwriting bug has you bitten, And with visions of glamour, you're smitten That feeling you've got Is assuredly not About writing. It's about having written.

It's like a breath of fresh air Having no baby gate on the stair And yet I still try When I'm passing by To avoid it, though it isn't there.

The interview went, as it should With us praising our eldest as good: Creative, insightful! Completely delightful! They would love him, I think, Wildwood.

Each year after candy's collected And the Halloween spoils dissected The Switchwitch comes back With a toy in her sack For the candy that you have rejected.

At our preschool it was "Mitzvah Day" When we take our kids and duly say: "We're here to help others. Sick kids, with no mothers." And they respond, "when can we play?"