Some of his somnolent poetry is admittedly hilarious:
“I can’t control the kittens. Too many whiskers. Too many whiskers!”
“Skipping to work makes everything better.”
“No, not the cats. Don’t trust them. Their eyes. Their eyes. They know too much.”
Here’s what I’m wondering, though: Is this just another balloon-boy publicity stunt?
I’ve known a couple of active sleep-talkers in my day, and none of them used complex syntax—nor did they string concepts together à la Steven Wright (“I haven’t put on weight. Your eyes are fat.”).
Oh, well … who cares? It was good for a much-needed laugh.
Thanks for the link, Punky!