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Althouse wants us all to get the hell out of her yard. (By Gavin.)

Miz Althouse regrets she's unable to blog today, Madam.
Miz Althouse regrets she's unable to blog today.
She is sorry to be delayed,
But last night into the Beaujolais she strayed, Madam.
Miz Althouse regrets she's unable to blog today.

When she woke up and found her couch-cushions drenched in sick, Madam,
She ran to the guest bathroom but only got half the way,
Before a grape-colored wave of spew
Dyed her toast-colored hall-runners blue, Madam.
Miz Althouse regrets she's unable to blog today.

When she made it to class a half an hour late, Madam,
With her blouse inside-out and her hair plastered to her face,
Before her students and all the world,
She leaned over the waste-basket and hurled, Madam.
Miz Althouse regrets she's unable to blog today.

(With apologies to Cole Porter and David Ehrenstein.)