When Stoney and I decided to do each others profiles, I started to think to myself… that’s just not fair. For him I mean. Most of the material he might have on me, he probably couldn’t remember. That puts him at a huge disadvantage. But a deal is a deal, so I would like to break the rules a bit, raise the consistently low bar he sets, and pen a bit of Float Eloquence.
There once was a man from a riverside town, To a float, he’s never been tardy.
In a tube, he usually acts like a clown, But he thinks he’s Vince Lombardi.
As a boy, he found the river a home,
A place where solace he’d find.
On the banks, and about the springs he’d roam, And here, he would lose his mind.
I’ll create a world, all mine, you’ll see, I’ll call myself the Float Master.
Rules and ridiculous things I’ll decree.
But it turned out to be a disaster.
Just then we thought, a glimmer of hope, He ran and won for Mayor.
A match that truly no one could cope.
Like Amy Grant opening for Slayer.
For ousting him there were no takers,
His politics were scruffy.
He certainly made His mark, Makers,
Cause beer makes his face puffy.
This is the part of this little trip,
Where I’d take a shot at his team.
I can’t, they won another championship, That freakin’ makes me scream.
His leadership before the float,
Was not helped by his Karate.
You’re better off in a sinking boat,
With Float Master John Gotti.
Marrying well, he has done right,
During his reign of terra’.
But when you say your prayers tonight,
Say one just for Sara.
All you floaters, must agree,
Matt and Chris and Caryn.
Float Master Stoney, he must be,
Be thankful it’s not Barron.
