Burns Poem 2020 – Los Angeles

IT’S ON THE FUCKING SITE
with love, from Andy Smith

There you are, sprawled on the couch, with bottles on your crotch
You’re binging TV reruns, while you’re buzzed on crappy scotch
But then somehow, a feeling strikes, something much like shame
That dramming scotch with Scooby Doo might be a little lame

Yes, you think, I must resume to drink the scotch of kings
Like That Boutique-y Whisky, and those other malty things
You toss out all the Dewars from your “Do Not Take Home Glass”
And vow to go to Scotch Club, instead of lying on your ass

You ask your favorite boozy friend who thinks the club meets soon
And if it’s on a night you’re free, that’d be most opportune
“But how, but when, but what,” you think, “I don’t know where to go”
Yet you don’t look on Google, cause, well, I don’t fucking know

You quickly turn to Facebook, Zucker’s sleezy habitat.
It’s that place you blast your politics and pictures of your cat
You find the Scotch Club group page, and before you think, you type
May I suggest, before you ask, you try the fucking site.

Yes, we have a website, it’s something you forgot
And if you say it’s hard to find. No, really, dude, it’s not
How ’bout trying this neat trick, I swear it’s not bizzare
Type scotch, then club, then add dot com. Was that so fucking hard?

Just open up a browser on that phone inside your palm
Then click into the address bar and type scotchclub.com
And if you see our logo, then my friend you’ve done it right
It took you 15 seconds, but you found the fucking site

Our site will have your answers, though it doesn’t look so great
It’s a page that’d be impressive, back in 1998
Yes, Scotch Club has a web page, and it’s working day and night
So if you’ve got a question, why not try the fucking site

“Oh dear, oh dear, what time is it? The email didn’t say.”
“I can’t have drinks with Scotch Club if they won’t tell me the day”
Remember, please, my dear WEE brain, before you start the tears
Our site has posted time and date, for 14 fucking years

“But where, oh where’s this meeting at?” Is what you start to moan.
Although you know the restaurant name and have a fucking phone.
Yes, a thousand dollar wonder with a navigation app
Plus, on our godammed fucking site, we link the fucking map

We paid two thousand bucks for this domain to be our home
But if you tell my wife that, I’ll be sleeping all alone
You won’t find any sports scores there, but then again you might
Find something about scotch club, on the Scotch Club fucking site.

It’s true that you can contact me if you need help, but look
Do you email Jeff Bezos when you need to buy a book
No, you just find his website, then you go and buy your junk
Our site’s the Amazon.com of getting you’re ass drunk

So let’s review the point my friends, just so we get it right
Don’t text, don’t post, don’t call my mom, until you try the site
Scotchclub.com’s where you go first, it’s all you need to learn
For fucks sake it, don’t just go for me, go, for Robbie Burns