“Schlocksturbators,” that portmanteau word says it all.
Listening to them many of us have been fated.
One shtik is to hell-bray;
you cannot keep them at bay.
Their lust for spewing bullshit cannot be sated.

Many for some group or person are whores,
so they purvey a slant.
They’re giving you bunkum for those behind ’em—
not a word of truth, but only lines…blowin’ smoke,
most of them bumbling jokes
with an unfragrant smell
and phony BS words.
Some folks can quickly tell
that none of it is real…
just a fabricated spiel.

“Schlocksturbators,” that blend of two word says it all.
Hear this omnipresent shit and scream out, “Save me!
Deliver me from lies;
I am a victim of word crimes
and of all these never-shutting-up depraved freaks!”

Many for some group or person are whores,
so the they’re purveying cant.
They’re spitting out spun junk for those behind ’em—
not a word of truth, but only lines…grotesque jokes
who’re only blowing smoke
up where there’s backside smells;
but their smell is much worse—
more sulfurous than hell.
None of what they say’s real,
smoke-blow, smoke-blow,
just a fabricated spiel.

Schlocksturbators—your eyes and ears they’re gonna maul;
whatever they say and do is just a crock spew.
Rank, rude boorish slime;
they truly are the whorish kind,
guilty of word crimes

Most of them amount to festering sores…
purveying rants and cant
They’re shitting out dung tons that trails behind ’em—
not a word of truth, but only lines…grotesque jokes
who’re only blowing smoke
up where your backside dwells;
they’re adding to the turds
that then emit pell-mell.
None of what they say’s real
your-hole smoke-blow,
just a crappy wasted spiel.