If it seems like I’m behaving rashly,
Well, there really is a simple reason:
It’s because that Mary-Kate and Ashley
Will be eighteen years before next season!
In just a month I’ll say, “Good-bye, jailbait!
Hello, Ms. Ashley and Ms. Mary-Kate!
You’re now ladies of consenting ages!
May I welcome you to Maxim’s pages?”
Our readers will sure get such glee from
Four-color spreads of an Olsen threesome.
On the Rack
I use Details to wipe my ass
And FHM to curb my doggy
Gear can wrap three-day-old bass
(Slick pages do not get too soggy!)
And GQ lines my birdcages.
Should I need to start a fire
I’ll simply rip out fifty pages
From this month’s issue of Esquire.
The Man Show, lad lit, Nascar dads—
All these things, I have engendered
Thanks to three books of tits and ads
Called Maxim, Stuff, and Blender.
A Maxim for Maxim
O, what the American public will read!
So evident they’re an illit’rate breed.
No need for articles, nor the use of big words,
Just show ’em juggies and the completely absurd.
Newsstand and subscription sales never lack
So long as we give ’em cause to go jack.
Cheers to you, dear Americans, you brainless flock
Who don’t think with anything except for your cock.
Because of you, I’m rich beyond wildest dreams
And I’m chased by women flaunting their high beams.
So while you sit at home looking at our pics
I actually get to make use of my dick.
Give the people what they want! Continually dumb down!
Big tits and small words have made me renowned.