I’m just going to warn you right now: this week’s Twinkie Town column isn’t funny, isn’t long, and is centered around a semi-original poem. As a rule of thumb, I don’t write poetry – I’m absurdly bad at it, as evidenced by my attempt to rhyme “elapse” with “perhaps” – and so this might be one to skip.

In my defense, I was writing following the Super Bowl, when I was depressed by a Packers victory and also by the five pounds of cheese and cheese-based food that I consumed during the game, so I’m not sure it’s completely fair to blame me for what happened.