Just in time for St. Valentine’s Day, a poetic verseburst in defiance of that other “V”-word:
See, see the foggly sky
Marvel at its big puce depths.
Tell me, Jerry do you
Wonder why the chihuahua ignores you?
Why its foobly stare
makes you feel glaptid.
I can tell you, it is
Worried by your undeflastered facial growth
That looks like
A myconid.
What's more, it knows
Your scrobbly potting shed
Smells of olfactory slug.
Everything under the big foggly sky
Asks why, why do you even bother?
You only charm dead squirrels under decks.
- St. Jimbob and the Vogon Poetry Generator
Original Vogon Poetry:
Oh freddled gruntbuggly thy micturations are to me
As plurdled gabbleblotchits on a lurgid bee.
Groop I implore thee my foonting turlingdromes.
And hooptiously drangle me with crinkly bindlewurdles,
Or I will rend thee in the gobberwarts with my blurglecruncheon,
see if I don't!
-Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz
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1 comment:
Wow! I was reading down this post, having missed the significance of the title, and was thinking, "this sounds like Vogon poetry!"
And then I got to it.
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