Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss

I do not like DI, you ham!
I do not like emoting spam.

I do not like it, NFL:
I say that it can go to hell.

And Declamation is the pits.
It gives me pains, it gives me fits.

I do not like it, CFL:
I say that it can go to hell.

PF is cool, except the flip,
And focuses, with all that lip.

Why can’t they all be calm and nice
Instead of being nasty mice?

I do like Pol, but not the speeds.
I cannot flow when my brain bleeds.

OOers make me cry and moan.
They whine and mope, grovel and groan.

I do not like them, not at all:
Not when they’re short, not when they’re tall.

I do not like them, NFL:
I say that they can go to hell.

I do not like the Duo pairs
With blue serge suits and spiky hair.

They sing when they do not perform—
In hell they would be nice and warm.

And then, of course, there is extemp
With mostly made-up evidemp.

“Time” Magazine, March Eleven?
Don’t expect extemp in heaven.

The Congress folk make phony laws
That give the average person pause—

“Mr. Speaker! Mr. Speaker!”
Squeaking worse than Muppet Beeker.

Finally there’s Lincoln-Douglas
To educate and entertain us.

But speed and cards, K and theory,
Make LD like CX, Dearie,

Only blander (and much shorter):
It should go to hell, it oughta.

I do not like Speech and Debate.
I do not like them, no, I hate!

I do not like them on a bus,
I do not like their angst and fuss.

I wish they’d join the football team
And keep their mouths shut—that’s my dream!