Joshua Tate, in addition to all the other hats he wears, is obviously the poet laureate of the Bummer-Free Zone, and I have no pretensions or aspirations in that direction. But while mopping floors early this morning I came up with some hostile doggerel (which, as poetry, has a certain virtue all its own).
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
You like when things rhyme,
Too bad for thee.
Brother, Joel! Welcome to the Octagon. With this post you have paid your dues for the year. Your room is the second door on the left. Can I get you some chocolate milk?
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