(OHHH YES!! OH YYESSS!! A DUCK, I AM, a DUCK, oooooooh yesss!)
When everyone else blows (be-lowws! YEAH! Ha -Ha -Ha!), I suck!!
(Suckity - suckity - SUCKITY -- SUCK! - YEAH)
A single ROtini in a plate of LINguini --
Or a lonely LINguini in a plate of ROtini --
(RotiNIni, TahiniNIni, RotininiNIni -- teehee - knee)
What the hell is I am is what I am?
is what by any other name
is --
(! - extraneous bang!)
-- is I couldn't ever -- possibly --
-- or could I? -- feel so lame.
Phththbbbbtt!!"
-- that was just one of the several fragments of writing found among Dr. Wes Browning's personal effects yesterday, as police collected evidence in the hopes of clearing up the month's long mystery of the missing homeless satirist and would-be poet.
Dr. Browning was a frequent contributor to the Real Change Homeless Newspaper of Seattle, "making a difference in people's lives right now, please leave your message at the beep, and someone will answer your call as soon as possible... "
Dr. Wes Browning, AKA "Copyright Dr. Wes Browning", was best known for his monthly feature entitled "Adventures in Poetry", which pretended to amuse Seattle readers with its supposedly subtle blend of political and poetical humor. He received his doctorate from, of all places, Cornell University, in 1979, for Mathematics. He received his "Copyright" from the StreetLife Gallery, 1994, where he had the audacious gall to make fun of another homeless artist, since deceased, for using the "copyright" symbol far too much.
But Mr. Browning had always laughed out loud at that sort of death, that is to say, the usual sort, the sort that doesn't repeat on you, the sort that doesn't come back and race you around the ping-pong table all night long. In fact, Mr. Browning has laughed at just about everything and everybody. Maybe it's best that we're rid of him. Who needs people like that anyway, always making fun of everybody, never taking anyone seriously! What a creep! Thank God he's missing!
As Anitra Freeman, fellow editor, and oft-time benefactor of Mr. Browning puts it, "He did a wonderful lap-dance. He had a very talented nose. I am not going to tell you what all he could do with his nose. What a probiscus! I'm going to miss his nose. Maybe, just maybe, I'll miss the lap-dances. But definitely his nose."
Think about it. Guys who write poems. Guys who lap-dance. Guys with prodigious noses. Do we need them? I say no. What do you the public say?
"What the hell is I am is what I am?
is what by any other name
is --
(! - extraneous bang!)
-- is I couldn't ever -- possibly --
-- or could I? -- feel so lame.
Phththbbbbtt!!"
Ahhh, ok, I am not in reality a duck. Sheesh.
