Saturday morning
Loading the Windstar with mulch
Grand plans, forsaken

Waiting room TV
Idiots hoot at drivel
The coffee is stale

A physique destroyed
By pregnancies and French fries
The sweatpants don't help

Bombastic blowhards
Spewing a torrent of bilge
Another meeting

Witless sack of meat
You'd be a Delta-minus
In Huxley's novel