Some Mondays are really Monday, you know what I mean? and this Monday was more Monday than most, because today I learned that the Algonquin hotel, home of Dorothy Parker and the rest of the impossibly witty Round Table, is about to be turned into a Marriott. There goes the good gin, here comes the Bud Light.
And this does not take me to my happy place.
Ladies and Gentlemen, we present the dolorous visage of Miss Dorothy Parker, along with one of her poems which seems to fit the occasion. Do your best/worst in the comments section:
(which was the title poem in a collection which was a #1 best-seller. Can you imagine the #1 best-seller now being a book of poems? No, you can’t, can you? The only way poetry would make it is if Dan Brown and Oprah collaborated on “Sestinas on Springsteen” or some similar abomination. And don’t get me started on Jewel)
Razors pain you
and rivers are damp.
Acids stain you
and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful
Gas smells awful.
You might as well live.
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