Someday, I will stop being a tool by reading the poetry that is prescribed to me by Garrison Keillor, Ltd. But until that day, you must endure every single awesome thing that reaches my inbox.
“A Disappointment,” By Louis Jenkins:
The best anyone can say about you is that you are a
disappointment. We had higher expectations of you.
We had hoped that you would finish your schooling.
We had hoped that you would have kept your job at the
plant. We had hoped that you would have been a better
son and a better father. We hoped, and fully expected,
that you would finish reading Moby Dick. I wish that,
when I am talking to you, you would at least raise your
head off your desk and look at me. There are people
who, without your gifts, have accomplished so much
in this life. I am truly disappointed. Your parents, your
wife and children, your entire family, in fact, everyone
you know is disappointed, deeply disappointed.
It probably says something about me, that I love this so much: but let’s not dwell on it. Nicely executed, Mr. Jenkins.