The WLA State Committee for Television and Radio Broadcasting has intercepted a counter-revolutionary plot to co-opt the Revolution's rhetoric. Enemy mouthpieces Orson Swindle and Peter Bean recite this glorious poem on their radio broadcast for Tsarist Scum, here (the vomit-inducing reading can be found a around 3:30 of the 8/12 show). Further, we fear that Comrade Brian has fallen into their hands, as he broadcasts, clearly under duress, at approximately the 35 minute mark. The situation warrants careful monitoring, and the WLA will notify you of any developments.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Ron Zook lifted ‘til he was weary,
Toiling over his lats and exploding deltoids he exercised more,
Musky armpit he was towling, suddenly there came a howling,
Then Ron Zook was sternly scowling, scowling at his weight room door,
“’Tis Juice Williams”, he muttered, howling at my weight room door,
Only this, and nothing more.
Ah distinctly he remembered it was in the bleak December,
When Juice Williams, as the Trojan pass-rush scared him to the core,
Eagerly he sought for refuge; - against them he sought a subterfuge,
That would save him from the deluge – deluge that would make him sore,
For the fast and delicate passer feared of things would make him sore,
Trembling there for evermore.
Then Rod Zook stood in challenge, his quarterback he would avenge,
“Juice,” said Zook, “do not fear, truly your forgiveness I implore,
But the fact I had no linemen when they so harshly broke your hymen,
And so faintly you come crying, crying at my weight room door,
More protection I will give you, so please leave my weight room door.”
Howling there, nothing more.
After this he grabbed a dumb-bell, when, with a crash from the window fell,
Two huge fierce and growling lupines, under command you could tell,
Not the least deference made they, looking at him as their juicy prey,
A sign of obedience, they moved at the sound of a yell,
Brushed aside as Mike Barwis made them sit with a raspy yell,
His own fear, Zook could smell.
Then Mike Barwis, pointing downward, said “Give me ten you fucking coward,”
Zook yearned for a tasty Red Bull as he got down on the floor,
“Let’s get pumped,” he faintly muttered as his heart weakly sputtered,
And then in vain he sought escape, escape out his weight room door,
Zook did sprint with all might stretching, for the solace of his weight room door.
Quoth Mike Barwis, “Nevermore”
Through Zook’s neck Barwis did throw a 45 pound plate as a final deathblow,
After this Mike allowed his wolves to finish the deed with gore,
From his hitlist Mike would scratch one more Coach who met his match,
He shook his head in great disgust, disgust with the body sprawled on the floor,
Zook lacked cut pecs, deltoids, and biceps, and even strength in his central core,
Quoth Mike Barwis “Get back and give me twenty more, you pussy.”
(Obviously, the "character" of Ron Zook is mercilessly ripped off of EDSBS and BHGP).
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