Today's inauguration compels me to turn my mind to more appealing thoughts, like the scent of feces. I came across this rhyme in an old journal and found that it does a decent job of synthesizing my sentiments since that dreadful November night.
A transcription of the chicken scratchin:
I'm sitting here thinking about
The way it smells when shit comes out
Meat and greens and saurkraut
That's what I'm thinking about
