I really think Chris Harris might be this generation’s Shel Silverstein.  Between his text (like the titular poem) and Lane Smith, they nailed it.  Not every time, but pretty darn close.  I spent a wonderful evening reading every poem in the book to my husband while giggling hysterically.  He laughed a few times himself, but I’m sure for the most part he thought I was losing it.  NO!  These poems really ARE that funny!  Like the one below.  I laughed so hard at this one because it was a poem that always bothered me for this very reason.  Ha!