HAMBUGGER YOU-NEVER CITY

Killin’s Served

BULLHORN, TEXAS

U S of HAY

 

THE YOU-NEVER CITY PRESIDENT BRIEFS ADMINISTRAITORS

ON FACULLTY REALATIONS

 

 

The prime die-rective is keep ‘em corralled.

Stall ‘em with barbs—give ‘em somethin’ to

beef about. Beauty of it ‘tis—it’ll make ‘em

come after you, fer sure, makes fer a better herd.

 

Now, most of ‘em have no company pride—

don’t come to football games, or grade-a-tion,

or donate to the You-Never-City fund—especially

the soft ones in the watchmacallit deportments.

 

You’ll have to brand ‘em so they know

where they belong. Find some way to

cut their throats into waddles (if you know

what I mean). Makes round-ups ‘n’ head-

 

counts a cinch come time for anal retention

review.  ‘N’ PC—my ass—keep ‘em no-account

greenhorns in the dark—you get whiter meat

‘n’ more tender.  That’s affirmative action if I heard. 

 

APB about the broads ‘n’ heifers—don’t make no

nevermind—they’re breeders, teats, sumen,

‘n’ baloney—suck ‘em dry.  ‘N’ remember

the stakes—they don’t have names.  Their backtalk is

 

just bullshit—move it on in, ‘n’ in,

 ‘n’ in, ‘n’ uh—howdeee, while yer at it—

fertilize . . . Show ‘em how the cow

      ate the cabbage.  When ‘em udder

 

facullty gits all horn ‘n’ buckin’—

I say, round ‘em up—stun ‘n’

slaughter in public.  Grind ‘em down ‘n’ up—

     press ‘em into uniform patsies. 

 

      The rest ‘r’ cowards—all of ‘em—smell blood ‘n’ huddle.

      Yee-ha—the benefits will just thunder on in, ‘specially

      for the barbecue—grill ‘em, lick ‘em—tongue is mighty fine. 

      Tan their hides.  Give ‘em the boot.  Then browse around

    

      for some new hi-tech genetically man-i-pu-la-ted blood.

      Let me re-veal to you the secret of my success—

      I pit bull against bull—keep the blood flowin’. 

      As you know, the castrated make the cuts—

 

      shell, strip, ‘n’ blank. Once they’re fixed, well,

      I don’t have to tell ya: you can trust ‘em to steer.

      Enjoy the Ro-day-o. Feed ‘em to each other ‘n’ you.
      I'm livin proof —ain't no such thang as Mad Cow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                        Susanna Rich