My mother said to do my chores,
to dust the shelves and mop the floors,
and wipe the walls and wind the clocks,
and scoop the kitty’s litter box,
and walk the dog and feed the fishes,
and wash and dry the dirty dishes,
and clean my room and take a bath,
and read a book and do my math,
and pick up all my Lego blocks,
and put away my shoes and socks,
and hang my shirts and fold my pants,
and water all the potted plants,
and organize my toys and games,
and straighten up the picture frames,
and polish all the silverware,
and brush my teeth and comb my hair,
and rake the leaves and mow the lawn,
and on and on and on and on.
She said I’ll get to have some fun
as soon as all my chores are done.
With all the chores I have to do
until my mother says I’m through,
like study for an hour or two,
and peel potatoes and stir the stew,
and fix a vase with crazy glue,
and practice tuba till I’m blue,
and wash the dog with pet shampoo,
and sweep the chimney and the flue,
and scrub the tub and toilet too,
and pick up piles of puppy poo…
It looks like I’ll be ninety three
before I get to watch TV.
My brother’s a genius;
as smart as they come.
Without his computer, though,
boy, is he dumb.
His screws all get looser.
His lights become dim.
His mind starts unwinding.
His senses grow slim.
His IQ starts dropping.
His smarts start to sink.
It seems to be strenuous
even to think.
His wisdom and wits take
a little vacation.
His head is still there
but his brain leaves the station.
He can’t answer questions
or speak off the cuff.
His noggin gets clogged up
with feathers and fluff.
He’s dense as a doorknob.
He’s thick as a brick.
It’s plain that his brain
can’t compete with a stick.
When using computers,
he’s bright as the sun.
Without them, he’s dumb
as a hamburger bun.
He’s slow as a dodo,
obtuse as a trout.
I sure hope our Internet
never goes out.