Volcano Smokey's Pizza Place by Greg Bulmash is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial 3.0 United States License.
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At Volcano Smokey's pizza place
There was a din-o-saur meeting space
Where all the triceratops would go
To see the famous singing bronto
The T-rex would play the stand-up bass
While raptors on drums would rock the place
The dinosaurs danced with such grace
At Volcano Smokey's place

Pterodactyls flew through the dusky blue
Shining spotlights in the twilight
By the gingko roots they played silver flutes
On pizza they dined while the starlight did shine

The big sauropods stomped
Little fabrosauri romped
And the allosaurus chomped
On a big plate of pasta all covered in cheese

In moonlight, as the dino-band played, love entered the room
Indosaurus danced with Vulcanodon and swept away the gloom

They danced 'til night was done
And nobody had to run
All the dinos had some fun
At Volcano Smokey's great pizza place.

For me, this morning, it was the Nicholas Cage stinker Next. At one point, he and Jessica Biel were driving through the rain and one of them said "I like rain."

I was walking the boy around and started singing to him: "I like rain..." And this song (link to MP3 of me singing it acapella - 25 seconds, 200k) developed.

I Like Rain

I like rain
Rain on my face
Rain in my hair
All over the place

Nobody likes a rainy wet butt
So don't rain on my pants.

And if you liked this one, you'll probably like the fart song I made up for my older boy.

If you put bacon
On a plate with anything
Bacon always wins

Wrap it in bacon
So it becomes delicious
Then eat it quickly

My dog likes bacon
This proves she is really smart
Do you like bacon?

Bacon or breathing?
Remember air lacks flavor
Except in Pittsburgh

There is a reason
Bacon tastes so wonderful
Because God loves us

Invariably
The question boils down to this
Crunchy or chewy

I do love bacon
So why don’t you marry it?
Proposition 8

eight haiku about bacon - click for t-shirt

[Name of kid] made a fart, and then he made a poot
He made it in his jammies and in his birthday suit
He made one in the bathroom and he made one in the car
He made a really big one and the stink went really far

Oh, [name of kid] made a fart while lying his bed
It travelled from his tushie all the way up to his head
It travelled up his nose and tickled at his brain
It made his eyes water and he never was the same

If you want to hear how it sounds when sung, I recorded myself with a headphone mic and you can download the fart song as an MP3 (200k, 25 seconds).

In the dream, a terrorist sprayed it in a ground-based spaceport and it settled in the hair of people preparing to board shuttles. As the shuttles reached orbit and switched on artificial gravity, their hair exploded, pretty much taking the rest of their heads with it.

Sleeping through a head cold, dreaming of people's heads exploding. I wonder if there's any connection.

So, given that insipration, I came up with the following rejiggering of the "Cheers" theme for the wired age:

Making your way on the web today
Takes everything you've got
When you're out with your laptop,
You have to find a spot
It needs an outlet, don't ya see

Some times I want to go
Where I've got connectivity
Like the broadband's just for me
Bandwidth and juice right at my seat
Get the net with my coffee
I want to go where I've got connectivity...

Little Miss Perfect
Toilet paper on her heel
And no one tells her

====================

Now, I wasn't big when I was a kid
And you can prob'ly guess what the bigger kids did
When they were in a mood for bein' mean

They'd grab my underwear from the back
And pull it up into my crack
So my cheeks were bare and my shorts were in between

Now it's darn hard feelin' spritely
When your ball huggers hug that tightly
Because the back of your shorts are a foot too long

There's just no way of feelin' super
When your shorts are stretched against your pooper
That's why I'm here and why I wrote this song.

[Chorus]

There's something wrong when your Jockeys become a thong
When there's cotton where the toilet paper goes
They used to cover my ass
But now they feel like a snake in the grass
And I'll tell ya, friend, that feelin' surely blows

[Next Verse]

Sometimes it's no one else's action
That sends that bunching ropy faction
Ridin' up your buttcheek on the right

Your mama says you've got no class
If people see you pick your ass
And you're in a meeting with no end in sight

You're scootin' all round in your chair
Tryin' to free your derrierre
From that cloth invading up your crack

But since you cannot pick and pluck
It seems that you'll have no more luck
Than the French against a German tank attack

[Chorus]

There's something wrong when your Jockeys become a thong
When there's cotton where the toilet paper goes
They used to cover my ass
But now they feel like a snake in the grass
And I'll tell ya, friend, that feelin' surely blows

[Next Verse]

No matter who you blame it on
It's heaven when that feelin's gone
And your shorts are settled back where God intended

Your crack is sealed up nice and tight
And the world seems to be working right
And, at least for now, you're not bein' rear-ended

But then you get a fright'ning thought
That soon enough you will get caught
With your shorts movin' north at rapid pace

So don't you even take that chance
Go bare-assed underneath your pants
And all day you'll have a smile upon your face.

[Final Chorus]

There's something wrong when your Jockeys become a thong
When there's cotton where the toilet paper goes
They used to cover my ass
But now they feel like a snake in the grass
And I'll tell ya, friend, that feelin' surely blows

That feeeelin suuuuureeeellllyyyy bloooooows!!!