Bad poetry surprise attack

Scanning through the radio stations yesterday (a truly hopeless quest) I ended up on some kind of radio-for-the-people station. It may or may not have been NPR. I’ll never know because I listened to a brief introduction for a writer, who took the mic and and then proceeded to recite the following, and I’m putting the line breaks in because I could actually hear them:

Many languages.

But it never knows what to say
To frogs…

At this point, I actually almost swerved off the road/broke my finger trying to change the station. Holy Crap! Then I began to laugh hysterically. Who was this woman? Who decided that she should be on the radio? Why did I have to turn to that station of all stations? Now I have this little vignette stuck in my head. I should sue!

Reminds me of the scene with Janeane Garofalo in Half Baked. She’s reading a poem to her captive audience pot dealer. It is Dark and Meaningful and Full of Angst…and really, really bad. At one point she does the following:

"I… " (looks up at Dave Chappelle)
“I, Alone” (looks up MEANINGFULLY at Dave Chappelle)

Cracks me up every time.