Boy George of the Jungle

This is the story of an effeminate fellow
Who lived in the jungle and wore neon yellow
The animals would stop and point up at him
In his yellow loincloth with its red rhinestone trim

“I am original unlike you jungle clones
With your beiges and tans and your soft neutral tones”
He said switching vines with the greatest of ease
Ignoring the taunts from the homophobic monkeys

“You boys wish you could have my movie star beauty
And could wear this loincloth like I do on my booty”
The creatures all laughed at his arrogant lisp
And went on about there jungle business

Then one day there came to the Jungle
A man by the name of Mr. O’Tungle
“This looks like the place to build me some factories
I’ll kill all these monkeys and burn down their trees”

Then out came Boy George, of the jungle that is
With his yellow loincloth and its red rhinestone friz
“Leave Mr. O’Tungle or face severe consequence”
But with George’s thick lisp it was hard to convince

The old fat O’Tungle stood there without blinking
And spit back at George, his breath mighty stinky
“What will you do to a strong man like me?
You’re just a girl with a capital G"

“Oh you think so sir so I guess you could take me
In an old fashioned duel refereed by these monkeys”
The monkeys looked on with the rest of the creatures
As the two men stared down each others features

”Well if that’s what you want than that’s what you’ll get”
He hocked up a big one and sealed the showdown with spit
And back they came at high noon on the dot
O’Tungle packing heat and George in his loincloth

“Where is your weapon you girly man fart?”
”I come just me my loincloth and heart”
A hush feel over the mixed mammal crowd
As the effeminate primate made the mean monkeys proud

They took ten paces in the hot jungle sun
George turned around and stuck up his buns
The reflection was blinding off his shiny buttocks
Knocked Mr. O’Tungle right out of his socks

The animals loved him for the great deed he had done
And next seasons fashions were filled with neon
George was a hero and went down in history
A legend, his sexual preference, a mystery

If James Bond had a bunny, and the bunny did not look good in a tuxedo, do you think that 007 would let him where a jumpsuit, or overalls, or a sundress, or a flesh colored unitard, or a dragon mask, if it made the bunny feel more comfortable even if it made people look down on the bunny and call him names like fancy, and ninny, and twirly, and lollipop, and loosey goosey, and then those same insensitive people would vicariously think less of the Bond man himself . . . or do you think that Bond, James Bond, would just have his bunny put down, or assassinated or guillotined or stir fried or sacked by a gaggle of pirates just because he refused to where the oppressive clothes of the aristocracy? It hardly seems fair.