After Wordsworth: Geno fans still much with us, late and soon, Whining and spewing, they dull our senses, Nonsense brewing in their heads brainless, Having no cred at all, a bunch of loons. This board that brings their “thoughts” into our rooms, Their posts that vomit forth at all hours, More to come gathered now like sleeping flowers, Always sense apart from, like stupid tunes. They move us not. Great God! We’d rather be Bored by the bleating of Cheatriot fans, Even they, appearing on these pleasant boards, Scar us less, ‘spite their dissonant chords, 'Least they do not pretend to be Jet fans. Still we have good Fitz, for true Jet fan hoards, To crush Geno’s minions and their awful plans.
