Published on June 8th, 2012 | by Joe Lyons3
Act Classy Cares: Cancer Stuff
Hey gang, it’s your pal Joe Lyons. I know this is primarily a site where we talk about funny things like farts, movies, and the sexual proclivities of the Golden Girls, but I’m going to bring things down for just a moment and get serious.
I want to talk about cancer. Cancer is the worst. I am one of the millions of people in the world who have had their lives affected by cancer. My father, Big Dan Lyons, passed away almost a year ago after fighting like a champion for two years with the esophageal cancer. It’s been surreal not having him with us and, with Father’s Day coming up, it’s going to be even harder not having the guy who helped me mold my sense of humor here with me. That’s the past. I want to talk about now. My brother, Little Dan Lyons, is also in the middle of his fight with cancer — leukemia to be precise. He’s been fighting like eight Stephen Seagals that have formed themselves into one giant and mighty Steven Seagal, à la Voltron…Seagaltron…and I’m not talking fat Stephen Seagals…I’m talking Hard to Kill Stephen Seagals…
Where was I? Oh, yes, my brother Dan has been and continues to be a force that cancer is unprepared to deal with. He’s getting ready to travel across the country for a few months as he goes through (and will recover successfully from) a bone marrow transplant. It’s going to be an unbelievably trying time as my brother and his wife set up shop in Seattle for the transplant. One thing is certain though: it’s the beginning of the end of this trial and cancer will rue the day it decided to pick on Dan.
So where does this leave me, the guy who writes for the comedy website you are currently on? Well, if there’s one thing I’ve felt over these couple of years, it’s powerless. There’s literally nothing I can do in terms of getting the cancer out of my loved ones. I’ve tried yelling at it, but that makes it difficult for people to get rest. I’ve tried bargaining with it, but cancer has no concept or use for money. I’ve even tried setting up traps for it, but the nurses keep asking me to stop bringing cardboard boxes propped up by sticks into the hospital. I am utterly powerless in making the cancer leave my brother. So there’s only one thing I can do, that’s write.
So, I’m going to give writing threatening poetry to cancer a try. It’s a long shot, but at least it’ll make me feel better. </sarcasm> And that’s what matters, right? </sarcasm> Right now, there’s a fundraiser going on for my brother that can be found HERE. The money that gets donated is going towards the mountain of expenses that my brother’s got ahead of him as he goes through his bone marrow transplant. So, please, if you get at least a chuckle out of what you read here, please, if you can, throw a buck or two at the link. So, without further ado, I present:
By Joe Lyons
If I could change one thing about cancer,
There really is only one very good answer.
I’d make cancer a guy, a dude, or a man.
Then we could meet, it’s part of my plan.
I’d take cancer out for a drink at a bar.
I’d start up discussion, we’ll verbally spar.
If cancer could reason, there might be a way
To stop him from all of his evil foul play.
Of course this is a ruse, a lie, pure deception.
I’d never offer cancer such a reception.
A sense of false security was my aim.
I want him to think that I’m weak and/or tame.
If cancer had balls I would kick them,
Then jab a pool cue right in his brain stem.
To show cancer mercy, was never my goal.
Cancer’s an unimaginable ass%$#@.
After our fight clears out the bar,
I’d jam cancer in the trunk of my car.
No one would care about my display of rancor.
It’s no big deal, seriously, f#@k cancer.
We’d drive real far, out in the desert,
For I was not done administering hurt.
I meet with my team who I have prepared,
A war on cancer is what we’ve declared.
There’s commandos and soldiers and even Rambo,
Wrestlers of all types, like Greco and sumo.
Ninjas, assassins, Doctors with karate.
We’re going to give cancer a violence party.
If cancer could talk, he’d probably say,
“Come on you guys, don’t send me out this way.”
Cancer could try, but he’s a dick, notorious.
So we go to town, like basterds, inglourious.
There was stomping and punching and breaking of bones.
A couple more kicks in his aforementioned stones.
The beating would last for hours. NO! Days.
Cancer owes much, we’ll make sure he pays.
When we finally finish, we’ll feel great, much catharsis,
Especially after one more roundhouse from Mr. Norris.
Cancer’s still breathing, for that we make sure.
We want him to see as he’s tossed in a gorge.
The gorge is full of glass and spikes, all on fire,
And only then may cancer expire.
And that’ll be that for cancer the rat.
A finishing move just like Mortal Kombat.
If cancer was a dude, I would totally do this.
For there’s so many people that we all miss.
My methods are fierce, most lacking of wit.
But, come on folks, cancer’s a pile of s$#t.
This poem goes out to the ones still in the fight,
Who deal with cancer all day and all night.
Your strength is impressive, we find you inspiring.
You always keep at it, even though it is tiring.
So if cancer was a man, what he should fear is you.
He’d quake in his boots. In his pants? His own poo.
We love you, we’re with you, try not to fear.
And then, when you’ve won, I’ll buy you a beer.
Thanks for your time, friends, lovers, and not-enemies of Act Classy. Please, if you got a laugh, toss a donation HERE. You guys are so cool and I promise to give you all back rubs if you do. Have any stanzas you’d like to add? Leave them in our comments box below!