When I'm feeling particularly deep, I pull out a pen and write poetry. Tonight, I wrote when I DIDN'T feel particularly deep. Hey, at least it's a post.
Three movements in the key of dumb:
Whether she laughed because she farted,
Or farted because she laughed,
One came from her bow,
The other from her aft.
Sally made the bed one day
And in it, she found fleece.
And that's the only way she knew
That Sam was screwing sheeps.
"How large do you normally grow 'em?" Jane asked
The cucumber farmer through the fence.
"You'll find them just right for a salad," he said,
"But too small to use in a biblical sense."
I should keep my day job.