That's nasty Rose, but the Seuss nastier! I vent as best I can.
Dean DeSoto
Whenever Dean DeSoto showed his face,
We people in the cubicles would wince:
He was a failed professor, a disgrace—
And hack administrator ever since.
And he would swagger proudly when he walked
Within the labyrinths where teachers worked.
Our anxious angers smoldered as he stalked
And spied on everyone. He even lurked
Behind our classroom doors to ambush us
When we would make our charges laugh or grin.
Red with wrath, he’d rage and even cuss
If students liked a class—to him, a sin.
But on we worked, endured his false reports,
Till Dean DeSoto cut our pay. We said,
“Fuck you!” And as he gagged out gross retorts,
We drilled a round of dumdums through his head.
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