2004-04-22 - 11:48 a.m.
An article on reuters.com indicates that poets die young. The researcher calls it the Sylvia Plath Effect. I call it the too-much-drugs-wallowing-in-your-pain-should�ve-seen-a-shrink-romanticizing-suicide-and-depression effect. But that�s just me.
If I were a poet, I don�t think I�d die young. I�d die destitute and poor, because the shit would be so terrible. This research may not be complete. Nowhere in the article did it mention the life span of poets who write limericks. Today, I�m bored enough to dash off a few. Pastori-i, these first three go out to you.
There once was a guy named Dan
Who had a master plan
He�d smoke a fat joint
Then perform at The Point
Air guitaring his part in a band
*******
Pastori-i was real horny
So he joined an S and M tourney
A girl with a mask
Strapped one on, took the task
Pastori-i�s ass is in glory
*******
Now, I love Maroon 5
Pastori-i thinks they are jive
But what does he know
He�s too high on blow
This guy paid to see Buckethead live
*******
Colin Farrell is totally hot
If he asked me to fuck I would not
His dick�s likely green
his skeet's nasty and mean
And I don�t want my girl parts to rot
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