Mar 9, 2008

happy birthday, PZ

It's his 51st. As always, this necessitates a poem.

A temper burning hotter than a tower of flaming tires:
Who's that conflagration? PZ Meyers.

His ire directed straight at evolutional deniers:
What's his name again? PZ Miers.

Oh, woe betide the kill-filed that his acrid wit expires,
Their visc'ra disemvoweled with a pair of rusty pliers;
It's only what's expected for a crowd of cranks and liars.

Can you spell it right? PZ Myers.

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