Shel tells how OJ fells

Here be a poem by one of my favorite authors, Shel Silverstein, which perfectly characterizes how I feel sometimes. Shel seems to always have a way of doing that.

"The Yipiyuk"
by Shel Silverstein

In the swamplands long ago,
Where the weeds and mudglumps grow,
A Yipiyuk bit on my toe…
Exactly why I do not know.
I kicked and cried and hollered "Oh!"
The Yipiyuk would not let go.
I whispered to him soft and low.
The Yipiyuk would not let go.
Yes, that was sixteen years ago,
And the Yipiyuk still won't let go.
The snow may fall, the winds may blow.
The Yipiyuk will not let go.
I drag him 'round each place I go,
And now my child at last you know
exactly why I walk so slow.

So that is why I walk so slow.
But the point is though: I am walking,
and eventually this darn Yipiyuk will go away
and I will have a brand new day
free of Yipiyuks.