The the impotence of proofreading
I worked at the Philippine Daily Inquirer in mid-1996 as a proofreader, and this funny poem just became funnier to me when I remember those long nights at the office, burning the midnight oil, trying to make sure the newspaper was flawless, in grammar and syntax. This was penned (and performed) by Taylor Mali, a really funny modern poet. I don’t particularly care for poems in general, but this one was just too funny to pass up 
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THE THE IMPOTENCE OF PROOFREADING
by Taylor Mali
Has this ever happened to you?
You work very very horde on a paper for English clash
And still get a very glow raid – like a D or even a D=
and all because you are the liverwurst spoiler in the whale wide word.
Yes, proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.
Now, this is a problem that affects manly, manly students all over the word.
I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term
that my English torturer in my sophomoric year,
Mrs. Myth, she said I would never get into a good colleague.
And that’s all I wanted, that’s all any kid wants at that age, just to get into a good colleague.
And not just anal community colleague, either,
because I’m not the kind of guy who would be happy at anal community colleague.
I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation,
I really need to be challenged, challenged menstrually.
I need a place that can offer me intellectual simulation.
So I know this probably makes me sound like a stereo,
but I really felt that I could get into an ivory legal colleague.
So if I did not improvement
then gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison
(you know, in Prison, New Jersey).
So I got myself a spell checker
and figured I was on Sleazy Street.
But there are several missed aches
that a spell checker can’t can’t catch catch.
For instant, if you accidentally leave out word
your spell checker won’t put it in you.
And God for billing purposes only
you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling
your spell Chekhov might replace a word
with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because, I mean, what do you want it to douche?
No, it only does what you tell it to douche.
You¹re the one sitting in front of the computer scream, with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit.
It just goes to show you how embargo
one careless little clit of the mouth can be.
Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint.
The teacher took the paper that I had written on A Sale of Two Titties
(no, I am cereal, I’m cereal!)
and she read it out loud in front of all of my assmates.
It was, quite possibly, one of the most humidifying experiences I have ever had,
being laughed at like that pubically.
So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice:
One: There is no prostitute for careful editing of your own work, no prostitute whatsoever.
And three: When it comes to proofreading,
the red penis your friend.
(Spank you)
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