Or maybe "oh the places you'll die". Anyway, I've been creating a parody of Dr. Seuss's "Oh the places you'll go" related to this year's burn. However, I don't have as much time as I would like to finish up the last remaining verses near the end. I'd be great of course to record people saying the verses in dust storms, but the poem is not complete. So any help would be appreciated. Please try to avoid slant-rhyme, maintain the meter, etc. and point out where I may have not. Here it is so far:
Oh the places you'll burn.
You're gone for the week!
You're out on the playa
No place for the meek!
You'll have pains in your head.
Too much dust to remove.
You can't see the right
direction to move!
You're on your own. And you know what you know.
And gale-force winds wherever you go!
You'll look up and down streets... looks the same everywhere.
Gotta find an outhouse--to deposit shit there.
With your head in a daze, and visibility two feet,
your eyes can't make out anything on this street.
And you may not find any
you'll need to go down.
In that case, of course,
you'll get lost outside town.
It's hellish out there
in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen
--and frequently do--
to people as stupid
and unprepared as you.
During Condition Alpha,
don't worry. Don't stew.
Just sit down and wait...
cover up while you do.
THE SCARS YOU WILL EARN!
You'll be on your way down...
and you'll forget to bring lights!
You'll join the Coleman tents
who soar to new heights!
You won't lag behind, 'cause nobody will have speed.
Forget your damn bike; you won't have the need.
Wherever you walk, you'll be blown by a gust.
Wherever you go you'll be covered in dust.
Except when you don't.
Just kidding, you will!
I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
that death and disaster
can happen to you!
You can get all run over
during a ride in the night.
And then pay 30,000
for a helicopter flight.
You'll detach from your group
in an unpleasant bump.
And the chances are, then,
that you'll feel like a chump.
And when you're in that slump,
you're not in for much fun.
A long night alone
has barely begun.
You'll return back to camp and find it a huge mess.
Stuff is tipped over. Damage to assess.
A camp you spent hours setting up to live in.
Now completely flattened, much to your chagrin.
Do you call it a loss? Can you build it again?
You fix your crushed tent but are missing some parts.
Will it hold together? Or again, fall apart?
Or go waylay camps from the air and the side?
Guyline it down, make sure that it's tied,
or you might find out that someone has died.
You'll ingest some wet substance
with a terrible taste.
Stumble down a dark road and feel really shit-faced.
Don't hurl on the playa as it is not the right place.
Purge in the holes built for our human waste.
The shitting place ...
... where assholes will hover.
Waiting for Em-Vees to stop
or some line to move, for some soda-pop
or some ice to buy, or a BLM cop
or the heat to go, and the sun to drop
or espresso from the camp coffee shop
or waiting for that *filthy* drop
The dust never abating.
Avoiding people without lights,
or watching people fly kites,
or waiting for the burn nights
or watching, perhaps, a bike at the loo
to prevent its theft, while you go poo
And your skin will chaff and your hands will bleed,
your nails will break, your sweat will bead.
The dust never abating.
That's all for you!
Somehow you thought that
it was all about raving.
But survivial is half
of the trip that you're braving.
With sun-shades flip-flapping,
once more you'll sleep tight!
Ready for anything lit up at night.
But no.. because *you* did not prepare right!
Oh... god... the places I may die. There is fun to be done!
... but I feel so damn sore, and I hate that damn sun!
And why didn't I bring that water in my pack?
Or some damn goggles, to make my way back?
FUCK! I'll be dried out as corpses can be,
but maybe somebody will come and find me?
Except when they don't.
Because, sometimes, they won't.
I'm afraid that sometimes
you'll have to push your way back.
You're off on your own,
pick up your own slack.
Buck it up!
Whether you like it or not,
you're here in a desert
and it's gonna be hot.
And where you are camped, there's a good chance
you'll hear thumps at night that don't sound much like trance.
There are camps, down the road at 10:30 and C
With some bass-lines so deep that you'll need to go pee.
But on you will dance
though you barely had sleep
Out in the expanse
of the playa so deep
On you will prance
...or get groped by a creep
Onward up many
a dusty, dry street
though your legs may give out
and you wish for a seat
(what follows are the verses from the original, which have not been parodied)
On and on you will hike
and I know you'll hike far
and face up to your problems
whatever they are.
You'll get mixed up, of course,
as you already know.
You'll get mixed up
with many strange birds as you go.
So be sure when you step.
Step with care and great tact
and remember that Life's
a Great Balancing Act.
Just never forget to be dexterous and deft.
And never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!
be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray
or Mordecai Ali Van Allen O'Shea,
you're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So...get on your way!
"The essence of tyranny is not iron law. It is capricious law." -- Christopher Hitchens
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