And now, Maya Angelou for Butterfingers:
“The wind. The rain. The fire.
The Butterfinger.
Did the Caveman know your delicious goodness?
Did the Mayan Priest exhalt in your buttery crunchiness?
Did the slothful Mastodon, upon his extinction, declare,
“Don’t lay a finger on my Butterfinger?”
Oh, you finger of butter!
You proud confection!
Sugar brown roasted peanuts,
fructose, glucose, sucrose, lactose,
partially hydrogenated palm kernel oil.
Crispity, crunchity, peanut buttery—
I... give... myself... to... you.
Butterfinger.
Glad mantle of golden chocolaty hope upon my breast.”
All that’s missing is the sound of fingers snapping...
Auteur!Auteur!
If she'd only read that one at the inauguration.
ps -- nice pup on your freepage!