Poetic Justice

I know this is somewhere south of a kick in the nuts on the great chain of comic genius, but there's something gratifying about seeing idiots get their just desserts. It's called poetic justice. With a dash of schadenfreude if you're feeling fancy.



Now, because I'm not a boorish Plebe, a sonnet I like from Robert Herrick pertaining to perving on chicks who're dressed like they just got out of bed with someone. (You have to read between the lines, the English were especially coy about their mistresses in the 1600s.)

Delight in Disorder

A SWEET disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness:
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction:
An erring lace, which here and there	5
Enthrals the crimson stomacher:
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly:
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat:	10
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me than when art
Is too precise in every part.