Tomorrow, under the watchful guidance of
apiphile, I shall probably be bringing you Dorothy Parker Poetry.
For now, I bring you the Third Worst poetry in the Universe.
Oh freddled gruntbuggly, thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee,
my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon, see if I don't!
Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz (via Douglas Adams)
And now I have jobs to do, and must run away and do them before I get lynched.
plum x.