EB's ode to porn.

EB wrote a poem which I thought you might enjoy.


Once upon a screenlit morning, as I wandered, drunk and horny
Through many a sick and twisted website of “hot XX galore”—
While I right-clicked, pop-ups clanging, suddenly I stopped, haranguing
The stupid browser for its hanging, hanging as it loaded porn
“’Tis heavy traffic" I muttered, "other perverts who explore—
Only this and nothing more.”

Indistinctly I remember, maybe was it last September
I had first spied this perfect haven of no-charge hardcore?
I’d been at the bars a-hopping, trying for saliva-swapping
With the lovely creatures flopping, sopping sweat on the dance floor
With those hot, seductive creatures populating hip dance floors
Meant for me, alas, no more

Unfulfilled and unrespected, badly frustrated and dejected
Myself (and other losers disinclined to hire a whore)
Disenchantedly returned to our respective homes, apartments,
Duplexes, condominiums, or best friend’s floor
To the lurid, sleazy broadband comfort of unbridled porn
Only this and nothing more.

Lost in reverie I waited for the page to be translated
From its ones and zeros into something visual I could adore.
Though the status bar’s completing seemed instead to be retreating
Distractedly I sat repeating, beating time with heel to floor,
“’Tis only online traffic hogging up their server’s store
Perhaps they’re running NT4”

Alas, it soon became apparent bigger problems were inherent
Since the page remained aberrant, not displaying what was sworn
By the hyperlink I’d trusted to deliver what was lusted
To deliver glorious, sordid velvet volumes of delicious porn.
Clearly now that message could be read which all abhor
Quoth the server, “404”