Daily Limerick Archives: April 2000
Contains Mature (and immature) Content;If You’re a Minor, Go Away!
NOTE: DL has not yet taken the time to put "anchors" into the archives. Translation: You're gonna have to scroll all the way through the long-ass documents (use your "find" commands, squatlicks)!
Here’s a taste of the DAILY LIMERICK free e-mail service—so open wide! If it tickles your taste buds, we’re firin’ up the limerick oven every day and we’ll send you one—all you have to do is reply to this e-mail and say, “Yes, sign me up as a DAILY LIMERICK subscriber!” (and tell us if we should hold the lettuce). If limericks leave a bad taste in your mouth and you DON’T want to join the elite crew of DAILY LIMERICK subscribers, don’t worry—all you have to do is NOTHING! That’s right, unless you specifically ASK to be put on the list, you won’t be! BUT PLEASE NOTE—I may accidentally send you this offer more than once, but that’s only because you screwed up. As I said, you have to ask for it!
What’s the hottest sensation that’s sweepin’ the nation and causin’ elation and even gyration? Well, THAT’S probably “Who Wants to Be A Millionaire” or some such dreck, but the DAILY LIMERICK is sweepin’ a relatively small, demented demographic of the nation! The DAILY LIMERICK—think of it as Tae Bo for the loins!
I’m setting new D. Limerick rules
no more of sex, bush, breasts and tools!
All limericks created
will now be G-rated—
If you believe that: April Fools!
A woman whose dog choked on quiche
sought someone to fill her pet’s niche.
For her legs men would kill
so the roll she did fill
with a man who gladly wore a leash.
This fellow, George W. Bush
might in the end lose in the push
for president Gore
(either way, it’s a bore)
next Prez will give less jokes ’bout tush.
A fellow I knew from Miami
did lust for a girlie named Tammy.
She wanted him, too
but he never knew
so he stayed home and slammed the hammy.
There was a young woman from Prague
each morning she’d go for a jog.
And all local thugs
would watch bouncin’ jugs
so ample they’d cause them a log.
A boy, first raised by both his grandmas
was then raised by Phi Beta Gammas
Slumber parties were frequent
he became a delinquent
and gained a fetish for pajamas.
There once was a fellow named Mack
who liked a woman who “got back.”
Saw Ally McBeal
and then he did squeal:
“My God that damn woman got jack!”
There were these two homos from Wales
who’d meet in between boffing males.
They’d speak of sex glories—
exchange gay ol’ stories
and call it enjoying cock tales.
That fabled thin man named Jack Sprat
during sex with often say “drat!”
For sometimes his wife’s mound
could not be quickly found
underneath all her rollings of fat.
A fellow fell into love deep
with a woman named Lil’ Bo Peep.
Now Ms. Peep was coquetish
he played ’long with her fetish—
but he balked at including her sheep.
A baker with dubious goals
made phallus shapes into his rolls.
That widened girls’ eyes
and then for the guys
he baked these life-like donut holes.
A cheerleader and a dream weaver
had her eyes on a wide receiver.
From sidelines she’d flirt
(nothing ’neath her skirt)
and won him with glimpses of beaver.
Bad premature ejaculation
brought our friend Jim emasculation.
Once with a hot dame
so early he came
his spooge shot in the Persian nation.
A fellow named Billy DuBose
had a giant penis-shaped nose.
After a big party
his schnoz would smell hearty
(and you can bet not like a rose)!
A Catholic girl, light in the head
’round Easter time turned her priest red—
lifted her dress high
her defense reply:
“FLASH Wednesday’s what I thought you said!”
Now those who to work wear high tops
shorts, jerseys and other such props—
yes those who play sports
and make crime reports—
should be the next subject of COPS.
A guy named Martin Espinoza
met a chick named Rose Mariposa.
She hiked up her skirt
and said with a flirt,
“Help yourself to the Ponda-Rose-A!”
Folks act like old works aren’t risque—
unlike all the “filth” of today.
The butcher? The Baker?
The CANDLESTICK maker?
Three men in a tub’s rather gay!
There once was a lady named Ruby
who smoked up a rather large doobie.
She then craved a snack
though her wallet had jack
so she bribed a store clerk with her boobie.
A gay man named Quentin J. Kramer
used hoops of fire as lion tamer.
One cat, badly burned
had Q’s favor earned
’cause then he could name it “The Flamer.”
A miniature fellow named Lair
camped out on a chick . . . well, down there.
She lathered her thing
and boldly did sing,
“Wash that man right out of my hair.”
A man smuggling drugs in his jeans
used coffee to keep the scent clean.
A slut girl, top notch
did rub the man’s crotch—
you could say he creamed his beans.
I man thought he’d stay home and spank it
but his drinking elbow—he did crank it.
So went out on the town
but his standards went down
and the next morn had pig in a blanket.
A man who liked sex free and risky
met a dame at a bar who was frisky
their inhibitions sank
the more that they drank
but his dick’s plans were foiled by the whiskey.
A dame named Amelia T. Glazer
tried shaving her cooch with a razor.
But it was so scary
overgrown and hairy
what she could’ve used was laser.
A man by the last name of Moon
puts wonton wraps on his girl’s poon.
When he does eat her out
he’ll take time out to shout
“How I cherish my tuna rangoon!”
Now that Anjelina Jolie
has new take on sibling rivalry
Tempting fruit of another?
Well, she joins with her brother
picking fruits from their own family tree.
A horny Hindu named Ofari
would pick up chicks in his Ferrari
and try to see muff
so he’d drive fast enough
that over their heads went the sari.
Mikey went to his best ol’ pal’s wedding
so for his new life he’d be abetting—
he saw a fine bride’s maid
and desired to get laid
so his priorities turned to bedding.
A sunbathing graphic designer
gave a male onlooker a steiner.
He helped her with her lotion
and that worked like a potion—
soon he mounted her in her recliner.
Ah, yes! April showers bring May deflowers... or something like that. Come in out of the rain and warm up to a toasty limerick in your e-mail box! Tell a friend! Tell them to tell two friends! And they’ll tell two friends, and they’ll tell two friends... And soon, a midget will tell you, “Gee, your hair smells terrific!” Think about that one for a bit.
In July of 1999, one month before the All Limerick Slam at the 1999 National Poetry Slam festivities, I was bitten by a radioactive Leprechaun and the Daily Limerick was born. Suddenly, my path in life became clear. I was born to be a crusader for uncensored truth, justice and Limerick! Actually, I wanted to get an AUDIENCE for the Limerick Slam I’d be hosting, but I was so amazed at the lack of enthusiasm for the project that I thought I’d send a Daily Limerick indefinitely! Plus, I won the Limerick Slam accidentally and wanted to give something back to the Limerick community! (Not too much, as there was no prize in it for me!) I’m committed to at least a year of the limericks—perhaps for the rest of my life, if we have enough subscribers!
By the way, I guarantee QUANTITY in limericks—one a day. I do not guarantee QUALITY limericks.
If you want to be on John Biederman’s e-list for comedy, sketch and/or poetic performances (in Chicago, LA or elsewhere), let me know!
©1999, 2000 John Henry Biederman. All Rights Reserved.
P.S.—We’re seeking advertisers—and we’ll take porn and tobacco ads!
(c)1999-2013 John "Sloop" Biederman. All Rights Reserved.