Ode to the Bluths
Michael, I'll miss your goodness
And sense of responsibility,
Your willingness to do anything
For the good of your ungrateful family.
Gob, I'll miss every failed illusion
And "girls with low self-esteem."
Every time you slept with Kitty,
You took one for the team.
Buster, I'll miss your hook
And your fear of bowtie-wearing seals,
Your love for your mother and Uncle-Father Oscar,
And calling your privates "Charlie Browns."
Lindsay, I'll miss your desperation
To sleep with anyone but your husband,
H.O.O.P., your bead business, your diamond cream,
Hitting on Michael after finding out you're adopted.
Tobias Funke, analrapist, I'll miss your cutoffs
And painting yourself blue.
I'll also miss your way with words
And dedication to "this business called show."
George Sr., I'll miss your fondness
For ice cream sandwiches and prison,
Hiding money in the banana stand
And using a one-armed man to teach important lessons.
Lucille, I'll miss your rape horn
And your drinking before noon,
Enrolling Buster in the Army
Because "the fat man dared you to."
Maeby, I'll miss your tendency
To fall for guys who are related to you
And the fact that you run a movie studio
While barely making C's in school.
George Michael, I'll miss your innocence
And fifty-three week crush on your cousin.
I hope you have a "fun, sexy time"
Wherever you end up.
I'll miss everything about you,
You magnificent Bluths and Funkes.
Though you may have no new adventures,
You'll live forever on DVD.
By Crystal Smith