My high school English teacher was a great lady with lots of red pens. She even tolerated my stoopidity and let me squeak by with C's. Unfortunately, I never really appreciated the classics in school, even when I tried to. They were always just assignments with deadlines. Cliffnotes saved my butt too many times to tell, they even sold them at the school bookstore! I was, and have been since, pretty stoopid, but smart enough to know it. The great literature of the world will have to wait. And at my age, I doubt there would be any significant insights that would make it though that clogged up HEPA filter called life experience. To try and make up some very late extra credit, I decided to try my hand at some Haiku. Haiku is probably a lot more than just 5-7-5, but that's as far as I care to take it.
This was inspired by the nutty postman who flew his gyrocopter to the capital a few days ago. His intention was to deliver letters to the Congress demanding that they implement real campaign finance reform, as unlikely as that is. I think his dedication to his profession skidded off the rails of good sense, but I do agree with his message, and am thankful the capital police handled the situation professionally.
If speech is money,
buy a hamburger with it.
Need some fries with that?
This was inspired by the nutty postman who flew his gyrocopter to the capital a few days ago. His intention was to deliver letters to the Congress demanding that they implement real campaign finance reform, as unlikely as that is. I think his dedication to his profession skidded off the rails of good sense, but I do agree with his message, and am thankful the capital police handled the situation professionally.
If speech is money,
buy a hamburger with it.
Need some fries with that?
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