Up the Philanderin' Wazoo

Had just a few moments with Francesca.
Upon a medicinal brandy, upon small thought,
recalled waiting for bus IFO pharmacy window.
With Michael on the patio, we was, commiseratin'. 

There were advertisment posters illustrating
history of medicine. This fellow in particular.
There were several, enough to last in the
awfully cold wind chill, the concrete moreso.

Going back so far, one gets flummoxed.
Not Joseph! Joseph Banks is botany! Yeah.
It didn't matter. She was happy to serve me.
Hence I got to talking cure with other friend.

So, present minded, searched for those
old posters. They're proprietary mostly;
it's all for sale. But this popped up first thing.
Didn't go further. Lovely, no? Via Walmart.

What we have here is a crisis of possession.
Clearly in public domain. They ought to stay.
Mean old curs, they are. Think they own us.
Sorry, don't need a thing save for whatever.

Get rid of them, please. Eternal arsonists.
They, in cahoots with those bastard neo-
nut jobs, have pretty much ruined the nation.
Legacies of ruination, leading nowhere fast.

Were she interested, she'd talk to me. Really.
But it rather seems to be a competition. Ugh.
Otherwise, we speak of Zucker, Kristol and Brooks, et al.
General hoot seein' 'news' presently. Out of their tree!