Our Critical Program

We crits grow old, we wear our pants rolled,

We think of von Neumann's calculations,

That story's been told, that trail is now cold,

We need to adjust our aspirations.


The mainstream's broader than poker playing,

Unthinking nature is in its ambit,

More than Mor'iar'ty planning Holmes' slaying,

It's bees buzzing in a queenly gambit.


Should we fight for the unique human soul,

'Tack links 'tween us and birds, bees, bacter'ia?

Or create our own tale of one great whole,

Embracing people, atoms, wister'ia?


I think that crits should go big or go home,

Like our mainstream friends, we should widely

             roam.


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