Those who don't love The Ramones with fierce, sullen love
Are Gay.
"What?" you say indignantly, "That's insane!"
"Don't take it from me," I say, shaking my head sadly at your ignorance and stupidity,
"just ask Mr. Spock."
You turn, bewildered, and confront the placid Vulcan.
"Can this be true?" you demand.
"Affirmative," he replies, giving you that hard gaze that makes your girly knees turn to water.
"The Ramones totally rule with absolute authority."
"Shit," you say in a weak, thin voice.
"What would a Vulcan know about Punk, anyway? You suck, Spock!"
(your defiance is false and bloated. You've been drinking Steel Reserve all morning)
The Vulcan turns calmly and says
"I have been monitering your Earth broadcasts for many years."
His eyebrows arch and your fear grows.
"Their style is completely righteous."
Then he plunges a steely finger into your eye.
You scream like a Girl Scout and wet your pants in fury.
But you have no answer to his deadly logic
and keen knowledge of high energy music.
So you die:
Alone, gay, and humiliated; soaked in your own urine.
Oh why, foolish child,
did you not listen?
THE RAMONES RULE.
This you should have learned
But you probably like The Clash, don't you?
Homo.