In The Midst Of My Research Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Sex sex sex sex!
That's all you filthy kids,
Consume yourselves with these days.
You should be seeking redemption,
For your tainted lost souls.

'Grandpa...
These are not my magazines.
Mom said she found them,
While vacuuming under your bed.
Do you want them?
Or should they be thrown away? '

Listen!
And closely.
Tell your mother,
I am in the midst of my research.
If she and your father,
Aren't going to keep up to date with you kids...
Who else will ensure you are aware of these ills?
Santa Claus?

No!
Don't throw them away.
I'm very close to preparing my talk with you.
Hand them to me.

'When is that going to be, grandpa? '

Neveryoumind...
Just hand them over.
I'll discuss this with your folks, first.
To co-ordinate our schedules.
You go outside and play with your friends.
And before you do...
Make sure you tell your mother of my plans.
I'm sure she had no clue of my concerns.