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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I never round-or-flatly disagreed with Johnny Appleseed, so red, so crisp, so...quite. Never in the dawning, evening dawn did I fly up or s*it upon...John James Audobon in the evening, morning night. Ah, I'd never be rude or eat the food of the pulchritudinous Johnny B Goode. How could I? And why would I harm odorless, flightless John Barleycorn or give him Spanish flea? I'd sail the vast untarted sea, or play drums obstreperously, with that flapjack, John Paul Jones, but what kind of pancake would I be if I revealed I was bigger than, by three, that wunderkind, John Holmes? Would I ask Johnny on the Spot for a rag to wipe my snot? Unindubitably! Would I surprise him with mascara, or do the backstroke in marinara like a mushroom in a noodly sea? I'd be on time for Johnny Come Lately, and eat bon bons till I sat, oblately, under the midday moon. I'd tell Johnny Carson, "That's a wrap" and neatly wrap my dog's crap up with cellophoone. What about John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt, that diaphanous, novelty hit? Would I blast him with the guns of Navarone under a sky that sticks like the glue of a colorless, humid, hue? Would I deny him a raisin scone? No! When Johnny Comes Marching In gets home, I'd serve him grits and iridescent cornpone, and sit him on my knee. Then I give him a lavender shout, and set up an appointment for my gout, superciliously. Would I ask John the Baptist to convert? No, I'd offer him some camembert and crackers! And the sprightly John the Apostle? I'd offer him a waffle. and crackers (for dessert). Oh John Keats, dear clapboard poet - you left too soon, before I could offer you a macaroon, or anything that leaves a crumb. There's a reason I asked you for tea. Give me a sign. Tell me honestly, do you think I'm a doofus - dopey, dippy, daft and dumb? Would I pull the leg or make fun...or steal a tart, chocolate eclair, pineapple upside down cake or cinnamon bun from the beetle, John Winston Lennon? Nope, I imagine I wouldn't, in truth, but I'd surely pull the tooth of the weevil John Wilkes Booth under the midnight sun.
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