Violets is blue
Roses is red
If we breathe in carbon dioxide
We'll all wind up dead.

I can't stop laughing! The comments are just too funny in the poetry contest. There is a one liner that ends with "sheep". Excuse me, I have to go giggle some more.....ha,ha,ha.

I'm just leaving now from far off Balngladesh
To try to clean up that East Anglia mesh.
(Sorry Kate, poetic license)

Traumatize the Children: Opening Ceremony Film at Copenhagen:

Please help the world - COP15 opening film

In a less politicized era which proctored simple human decency, this kind of morbid soviet fear conditioning would be considered child abuse - but these days what's a little childhood trauma when it programs droids who will worship the new climateocracy?

Cap and trade. I hope to see it soon in Canada and USA! A carbon tax is in the offing too.

sign up for it T or voluntarily up your taxes by 15%

Ghost of Ed beat me to "What a mesh!"
8=^(

(And the tears are for our upcoming state of carbon taxes not being beaten to the punch.)

A "Mesh" is what you say for mess when you drink a lot. I should have made it clear that I'm old and alone, and sometimes I drink.

There was once a man from Kyoto
who loved his beloved 4x4 Moto
but since that's a no no
how is he to drive it to voto?

These are ok folks, but Kate's right . The comments at VF are awesome,poems too.

Copenhagen's the place where they met.
The all brought their very own jet.
The hooker's won't play
but the people will pay
The UN's not done with us yet.

Al needed a new conquest
Since losing the leadership contest
Snake oil sales were down
He turned them around ...
He even sold hot air to Bangladesh!

Jeopardy Answer: Nothing

Jeopardy Question?

How much do I worry about Bangladesh?
How much do I think of the pop of John Tesh?

fruit fly fruit fly, save us all
fruit flu fruit fly, show us how
to live a life, so carbon free
let's not produce food for mister tree

fruit fly fruit fly, tell me now
fruit fly fruit fly, toss the ball
can't u share your beachfront home
and we'll house homeless in our dome

fruit fly fruit fly, what's with the bus
fruit fly fruit fly, are you one of us
you jump into bed with the goreacle
u must need flour to find his hole

fruit fly fruit fly, incarcerate denier's
fruit fly fruit fly,damn hippy liars
like chicken little, bed wetting sound
the temperature is going down down down

What rotten piece of mangled flesh,
Could caused the floods in Bangladesh,
It wasn't mankind's rank pollution.
It's Al and David's dumb conclusion.

Sorry; I don't even have a poetic license!

'Twas the weeks before Sweden, Fine - Denmark, I know,
I lay here asleep, my yard full of snow,
The furnace all burning, the heat 'round my bed,
Dreams of bears drowning just danced in my head.

The children were snoring, their legs all askance,
wearing pajamas emblazoned with Spongebob Squarepants.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a noise,
which comes from a moonbat who's lost all his poise.

I peeked out the window, and shuddered with fear,
Who else would be out there but AlGoracle Sneer.
His Prius all smoked, it clunked and it shook,
For alas! His batteries were completely all cooked.

His hair was slicked back, with Grecian care,
a fixed grin on his face, with a horrible stare.
His suit all a-wrinkled, his shoes all worn down,
A VP's dour face all lit with a frown.

Then - He spat and he roared, in maniacal glee,
A hockey stick graph soon nailed to a tree.
His disciples he called, an inferno of fire,
they crawled from the depths, all full of ire.

"You cretins! You morons!", Algoracle yelled,
"The world now knows us as liars beheld!
Your emails, your code, I feel I must cuss,
As I toss you - no, pitch you, all under a bus!"

Mann and Jones cried, fingers all out disjoint,
"It's all from him!", "No, it's FOIA's fault!"
Algoracle glowed, he sparked and he lit,
A tree nearby soon smouldered and split.

He grabbed both those imps, and crammed them away,
To the revived Prius, who'd seen better days.
Grinned evilly to me, and lifted some wine,
And bid me adieu with a yelled "Hide the Decline!".

Larbin:
If you don't have a poetic license
you'll never make it to the Rhyme Registry.

Ev'rybody’s talking ‘bout
Bangladesh, Marrakesh, Anne Hesh, pound of flesh,
Fortran and Gore ban, Copenhagen, hoaxin’ changin’
All we are sayin’ is give fleece a chance
All we are sayin’ is give fleece a chance

As the flames licked his arse, quoth David Koresh:
"Perhaps we should have built in Bangladesh!"

(Sorry, that's the best I can do with that one)

creche.

It's a cruel irony, isn't it, that we mock him using the very internet he himself invented.

Dhaka almost rhymes with "whacko".

There once was a bull-shitter named Gore
Whose blather was acknowledged as 'bore'
He railed on global warming
That the Earth was astorming
but was found to be a hoarding whore!

Hahahahahahahaha. Where is them islanders? Hahahahahahahaha.

I know one thing. It feels like 3 here today. The islanders are dealing with oh, 83.

And Vic, you can gloat but I'd bet 50 of my own dollars that your bum population far exceeds that which you'll find here in the frigid Plains. Give me the cold any day.