Kill a Cock, Stop a Cockfight

It's no secret I'm not fond of Arizona's Sheriff Joe.

He can feel how he feels, but his methods are so-so.

He enjoys enforcing the law with extreme gusto

and doesn't care if the impact feels like a low blow.

Now he and Steven Segal are filming reality TV,

earning fame doing things that seem senseless to me.

(They somehow managed to kill an innocent puppy

when their tank and SWAT team raided a property.)

They say they were putting an end to cock fights,

and I definitely feel for the fighting cocks' plights,

but I can't say the Sheriff's actions promote animal rights.

It'd be better if they'd lived to have more fun nights.

Perhaps there was no available rooster rescue

to provide a happier, more peaceful venue,

where they could do the things that roosters do,

like frolic outdoors and yell cock-a-doodle-do!

Still, I'd rather see the Sheriff open his own retail store

where he could sell rescued roosters, gangster's guns and more.

Find a better way to be rough and tough, I implore.

Sheriff, stories of your lawsuits are becoming a bore.

© Rachel Hoyt 2011.  All rights reserved.

Technorati Tags: Entertainment, Arizona, Sheriff Joe, Humor, Cockfighting, Rooster


This rhyme is being shared at the Poetry Pantry,
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Arpaio Anxiety

Note: this poem can be sung to the tune of Allan Sherman's song, "Camp Granada".

Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh,
Please retire in Santa Barbara.
Arizona's quickly changing,
Joe Arpaio's posse's rants the world estranging.

The last time I came for a visit,
I heard that he had gone ballistic.
You remember Xochil Peña?
Her poor grandma was harrased at work in Mesa.

All the smart guys seem to hate him,
and he refuses to debate them.
All the times he talks in public,
it seems he thinks he already runs his own Republic.

I'm surprised it doesn't scare ya,
that your neighbors often dare ya,
to volunteer with Arpaio's cronies,
'cuz they've loved him since he began with the pink chonies.

Please leave home, oh muddah fadduh,
stay with me, it's not a bother.
Don't stay there out in the desert where
the crazies think they know what's fair.

Please leave home, I promise you a fun filled time,
fresh produce and good local wine,
oh please don't make me beg,
that state's become a rotten egg.

Dearest Fadda, darling Mudda,
how's my precious, doggie brudda?
I can't wait to, let him kiss me.
Hurry over and admit you also miss me.

Wait a minute, the plan is failing,
crazy's spreading, saneness is flailing.
If he tries to, can we stop this?
Could Arpaio actually win the oval office?!

© Rachel Hoyt 2010 - 2011

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