Check out this poem written by the esteemed reporter, journalist, plagiarist and nutjob.
scared…so scared…
Sorry, I confused the subject of the rant with Scott Bairstow, the subject of this rant.
They just seemed to go together.
I’m sorry, Tars.
Here, we can lock this poem away where it can’t hurt anyone anymore.
I guess I should have provided a stronger warning on the horror that awaits anyone clicking the link. (You know it’s bad when it reduces a four-armed Martian to tears.)
This post has been . . . eh, obvious joke. Nevermind.
WTF??? That asshole wrote for the NYT produced that kind of crap? I was writing better shit in freakin’ elementary! The old grey lady ain’t what she used to be!
Ho-lee fuck. That’s some mighty bad poetry.
Whether or not he’s the grapist, Jayson Blair is clearly a Vogon.
Gah. My daughter’s 5th grade Valentine poetry was better.
I don’t doubt it, Arden, I don’t doubt it at all.
Man, that thing is bad. A rhyme scheme more simplistic than “roses are red”, no discernable meter (even “I am rubber and you are glue” has meter), and lines that don’t even rhyme. Emily Dickinson’s approximate rhymes are one thing, but this guy tried to rhyme “alone” with “home”.
Huh, look at that. “lines that don’t even rhyme”. According to Jayson Blair, I guess I’m a poet.
With all of those colors, it’s a wonder he isn’t writing about how Clinton likes his Super Mexicans deep fat fried.
The day I write poetry that bad is the day I go public with my amazing new discovery in the field of illicit pharmaceuticals. That crap is so bad it alone deserves to get him tossed off the staff of the NYT.
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Cra*ppy is a level of quality somewhere between godawful and drivel.
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Goats are animals that are often the subject of deranged fantasies.
Wow… it doesn’t scan… …and the naive dependence on mechanical spell-checking elicits a groan.
I’m sure this is a case for DNFTT in real life. This guy is trying to make a career out of being a bad journalist and generally bad writer; why don’t we all just ignore him, and let him drop out of sight and sink to his natural level in life? (Mind you, I’m not sure where that level would be - based on his track record with language and communication so far, I’m not sure I’d trust him to say “Do you want fries with that?” right … )
But if he just buys those supercheap fat burners…! Gotcha ya!
“Cra*ppy”?
Cramppy?
Crappy? Looks like someone stole my astrisk. that’s okay, I’ll share.
Hey, if he can do it, anyone can: I’m tempted to
try my own hand at shockingly bad verse…
**Chickeny
(adj.) 1: Of, relating to, or resembling chickens. 2: Having a comb, gizzard, crop and laying eggs.
A broken cloud, hurt and sad, trudging a scarry path
Im really bummed because the world is sucky and I need a bath.
The light came into sharp relief, and pierced my eyes like pins
The sky turned to night I remember it mistily, then threw me in the rubbish bin.
I fell apart, and broke the window, and my soul dropped a hammer on my toes.
I hardened my heart, forever-and-more, who would I love? No one knows.
I fixed the window, and I like being alone, but my life is one big mess.
Where others see loveliness I don’t see a damn blasted thing, maybe I have glaucoma.
I’m a sociable kind of guy - ouch, my heart.
This pie? No, its not mine, help yourself.
The sun came out, and my jaw dropped open
I’m all self-conscious and stuff – remember, I hardened my heart in the second stanza.
Holy goofball, Batman, my internal organs are revolting, blah, blah rhymes with stanza.
Are you my evil twin?
Is this a soap opera I’m living in?
My jaw dropped open, fantasticalness in my peripheral vision.
I like you for your mind, honestagod! I’m not a horny pigeon!
My jaw is still open, I really like to play Scrabble.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it yet, but, hey “Rabble, rabble!”
Do you have the time, on your nice Roex watch which you bought from the creepy guy on the street corner?
Man, he sure did swindle you.
Your car is like a summer sunset, rust, and brown and orange
And can you tell me the 3rd word that ends in -gry, when you tell me what rhymes with orange?
I havent said anything about chickens yet, which is somewhat perplexing.
Can anyone tell me what the deal is with Bill Clinton and
Mexicans?
Ankles, chicken-like in their shape
Hair, just the color of a Rhode Island Red hen, delicately descending to your nape
You sure are obvious, I could read you like a book, I’m sure
I only wish you were a good one, like Nineteen Eighty-Four.
After all this angst and sorrow, your clucking has captured my hea
rt.
If I let you crash at my place for a few days, you wanna look after my “cat”?**
Holy shit that’s so awful it gave me cramps.
Holy sht, **Knckers**, that is the most ::cough:: beautiful ::gag:: thing I’ve read in my entire life!
Seriously, that’s freakin’ hilarious! ::sniff:: I love it!
The coding was a beast, though. Ouch.
Don’t you know that you’re my hero?
[sub]my eyes! my eyes! stop the burning![/sub]
Gah! He’s the real-life Gildward!
It all seriousness, did he publish that dreck or was it a private poem that was somehow made public. I’ve definately written some truely awful poems to SOs that I’d rather not see the light of day.