Nothing Rhymes With "Homoscedasticity"

The word of the day is “comorbid,”
Which simply means “stuff side-by-side.”
Like “under” ’s comorbid with “water” or “wear,”
And “seek” is comorbid with “hide.”
I don’t mind aggression comorbid with sex,
Or doorbells with dog salivation
But when psych makes the “quant” spend time with the “qual,”
There’s comorbid angst and frustration.
‘Cause numbers and letters, I think, really don’t mix.
At least not in my lexicon.
Keep your digits comorbid with sigmas and sines
And leave “y” with “ogurt” and “awn.”
Since when does a “p” equal .05
(Or less, if your study is valid)?
I like my “p” comorbid with “green,”
In a spicy masala or salad.
Please, leave my “r” to “ocky” or “oad,”
Not some half-pint correlation.
“N” should be “ickels,” or “eighbors,” or “ice,”
Instead of “the sum population.”
And “b” is a slope? A y-intercept?
What happened to Hamlet and honey?
Whether “F” is a critical value or not,
It certainly isn’t too “unny.”
They tell me a “t” is a test, not a drink,
And “z” is a score, not a nap.
I envision a low “z” on my stats “t” next week
This “comorbid” stuff is all c-r-a-.05.