I read Christopher Hitchens’ latest Vanity Fair article with great interest—I was hoping he might start talking about the moist cave of my mouth again, like he did a few months ago. Delightfully, "Why Women Aren't Funny" addresses the subject of my mouth in even further detail: curving naso-labial furrows, full horseshoes of lovely teeth, etc. On the whole, I found it full of arousing insights about my own condition. And since Mr. Hitchens used poetry so persuasively in his own article, I thought I would respond in kind.
The Children-Squirters Is So Grumpy
Me brain so soft like hammered infant,
Milky smelly, biscuit chompy;
Me face-vagina stretch with laughter,
BWA, BWA, BWA like noising goat!
You smart comediennes, me think
Your pussies sewed shut all the way
With silky pubes of crafty lesbos.
Paula Poundstone make me giggle,
Tie she wears make me want kisses.
Pretty husband gnaw me eat-hole,
Suck out all the funny knowledge,
All me jokes fall down me cleavage—
Rutty husband, scoop them out
With diggy penis shaped like trowel!