How to Train Your Weatherman

I walked to the window

Looking for rain

Only to find there was none

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So what did I see

Instead, on the trees

But three inches of white, and then some

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It heartens me though

To know what I know

The government is not the only

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High paying gig

Where none give a fig

Whether wrong or right, they’re just phonies

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Weathermen, you see

Could squirt shit when they sneeze

Then turn ’round and call it baloney

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So, like our po-li-ti-cos

That’s just how it goes

They feed us baloney shit sammies

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 But next time, I think

When that breeze starts to stink

I’ll send a pic of a dick being slammied!

you would not! would you?

 Today’s forecast:  Squashed Dick, and Tortured Balls
Tonight’s forecast: Periods of Pain and Nausea

Tomorrow’s forecast:  Well now, that depends.  Doesn’t it?