300

February 23rd, 2010

Like the 300 Spartans who faced off opposing

Hordes of Persians bent on their empire imposing,

My 300 poems face off against the Teabagger masses

And whatever with them for political “news” passes.


In particular, I face off against you, conservative poet Tom Zart

In this battle in which both of us play our part

Writing poems to inspire our respective troops

(Or in your case, conservative dupes).


Not everyone admires you as much as me

(For example, that guy who quoted Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy).

You still have me beat in Google references,

But yours are mostly your own comments, which is not indicative of preferences.


Like I said before, I admit that I’m a poetic hack,

Using rhyme to disguise political attack,

Like your hero the Zombie Queen uses charm to cover hers

(I guess the Right, including you, her approach prefers).


Will you come out and make a similar admission,

Or are you still upholding the contrary position?

***

Here’s a scene from the movie from which this post takes its name (for more 300-related parody, read our earlier piece, Meet the Spartans? (or, 353), which includes some great scenes from the 1962 original movie, The 300 Spartans, Battle for the Smithsonian, and Meet the Spartans. (Did you get the connection between the last two movies? If not, click here to find out.)

Here’s the full reference to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy as cited in MosheDayanHero’s comment:

“Vogon Poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem, Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning… the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off … The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator Tom Zart.”

 

In fairness to you, Tom, here’s the actual quote from the book:

“Vogon poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The second worst is that of the Azagoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode To A Small Lump of Green Putty I Found In My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal haemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off. Grunthos is reported to have been “disappointed” by the poem’s reception, and was about to embark on a reading of his twelve-book epic entitled My Favourite Bathtime Gurgles when his own major intestine, in a desperate attempt to save life and civilization, leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain. The very worst poetry of all perished along with its creator Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings of Greenbridge, Essex, England in the destruction of the planet Earth..”

 

A sample of her poetry taken from the animated readout in the TV series and actually written by Paul Neil Milne Johnstone (a real person) is:

The dead swans lay in the stagnant pool.

They lay. They rotted. They turned

Around occasionally.

Bits of flesh dropped off them from

Time to time.

And sank into the pool’s mire.

They also smelt a great deal.

 

(That actually makes me feel better about my own poetry.)

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