I strive to link poems and music and historical events into a seamless related pleasing whole. In this instance, I think I failed. That's the reason for the title of this post, taken from "H. Allen Smith's Poor Almanac."
Consistent with the theme of there being no theme, here's an unrelated but still funny poem from Mr. Brautigan.
Attila at The Gates of The Telephone Company
They said that
my telephone
would be fixed
by 6.
They guaranteed
it.
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