I’m going to have to echo Glenn Greenwald on this — its so dumb, it hurts:
Happy almost-but-not-quite anniversary, husband!
She is neither pink nor pale,
And she never will be all mine;
She learned her hands in a fairy-tale,
And her mouth on a valentine.
She has more hair than she needs;
In the sun `tis a woe to me!
And her voice is a string of coloured beads,
Or steps leading into the sea.
She loves me all that she can,
And her ways to my ways resign;
But she was not made for any man,
And she never will be all mine.
I’m on tenterhooks over Election Day. Luckily, I have Zantac and Maalox to get me through the next couple of days.
