Daily Limerick
Archives: December 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)!


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NOTE: A limerick is a humorous poem that is generally of a sexual nature. If you are offended by such a thing, please delete this message immediately.

You’ll find a sample limerick below as well as “Slappin’ and Yappin’,” our new feature of commentary, of sorts, on our nutty, copiously-corporate-sponsored world! That’s right, what began as simply a limerick service is now a full-blown... er, at least a lukewarm attempt at an e-newsletter!

So you’ve spotted that guy or gal that’s causing a dance in your pants—but what, oh what can you possibly say to pick him or her up? “You’ve got more legs than a bucket of chicken” is nice, but it takes a special kind of person to appreciate it, mainly people who don’t know English too well. Perhaps you should throw out a LIMERICK! For limericks truly soothe the soul and part the thighs. If that doesn’t work, some quotes from “Slappin’ and Yappin’” will surely break the ice.

Well, perhaps not. But in any event you can simply reply to this e-mail and get a free limerick (and “Slappin’ and Yappin’”—every day! No, you haven’t died and went to heaven! And, no, you haven’t died and went to hell either!

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Here’s today’s DAILY LIMERICK NEWSLETTER. We’ve gone beyond a simple limerick service, so stay tuned after the limerick for “Slappin’ and Yappin’,” a word from our crackpot! (Christmas themed for the Holidays!—that’s right, “CHRISTMAS,” not “HOLIDAY”—shove your PC crap into an orifice of your choice—if you don’t celebrate Christmas, that’s A-OK, but we’re writing the limericks, so take that!)


Daily Limerick 12/1/2000:

Rumor has it that Helen of Troy

left ol’ Paris for debonair Roy.

Soon flirtation she’d learn

and upon her return

was soon known as Helen of Boy Toys.

(Okay, so the Holiday Theme will start tomorrow.)



So I read today that the FAA found it acceptable for that woman to bring a 300-pound pot-bellied pig onto the airplane because it helps her deal with stress and she has a heart condition.

Now I can't light up a cigar on an airplane, and that certainly doesn't help ME deal with stress.

But anyhoo, you just wait and see what happens if I ever do have a heart condition. 'Cause I'll be whippin' out a hog of my own, if you know what I mean, to relieve stress on airline flights. As a matter of fact, I think a cute flight attendant should have to help me with my little hog-hey, medical condition babe! That lady over there has a pig, I want a little...


Daily Limerick 12/2/2000:

A dame with a house on an isthmus

used each drunken binge as a litmus.

When she sucked an elf’s member

early in one December

she soon took on the “Twelve Steps of Christmas.”



Shopping for holiday gifts online this year? Sitting home, in your underwear, charging up the old credit card, avoiding the actual confrontation with humanity at all costs because you just can't stand people-all in the quest for impressing your relatives with material gifts...

Isn't that what Christmas is all about?


Daily Limerick 12/3/2000

Out the door ran a young lady’s dog

so she ran after wearing just clogs

for our dog loving Shauna

just got out of the sauna

and the sight stoked her neighbor’s yule log.



I was in the store today trying to buy a rectal thermometer and it struck me:...

Okay, I was buying the thermometer for a sick cat, as the vet told us to keep an eye on his temperature, sicko.

Alright. But I found a whole load of DIGITAL thermomenters there costing $10 or more each. No good old-fashioned, glass, skinny thermomenters.

Here's where the human race is doomed. We can't admit that the technology of something like a thermometer is just about perfect. I've never had difficulty reading a traditional thermometer, even one sticking out of a cat's orifice. And I'd rather pay a quarter of the price for a non-technological one.

It's kinda like DVD. Sure, you can get never-before-seen outtakes that didn't make the original movie, but as long as Hollywood's churning out Adam Sandler's next crap on a reel of tape and re-makes of every movie that ever succeeded on the past (because it was made in a much better age of Hollywood)...

Come to think of it, "Little Nicki" has a lot in common with a rectal thermometer. I'll leave you to fill in the rest of the joke.


Daily Limerick 12/4/2000:

A fellow who was quite a scrooge

would let out a “humbug” deluge.

c’Til one holiday

he got a good lay

and lauched his Ebenezer Spooj.



I was thinking the other day about how long I believed in Santa Claus. I believed in him into 6th grade. However, it wasn't a simple process-one day I was a core believer and I woke up the next a non-believer. It was a gradual process.

By the time 6th grade rolled around, my belief in Santa Claus was kinda like the average Ralph Nader voter. Outwardly, I'd say I believed, but deep inside, I knew Santa wasn't real, like the average Nader voter would say Ralph had a chance but deep inside... well...

Anyway, the other day I was thinking how this kid named Mark Johnson beat me up all the time as a kid, which I was reminded of because I remembered him bullying me because I believed in Santa Claus.

Then, like a typical adult who was a nerd as a child, I thought "He he-but I showed him! I'm making more money than that ox now!"

And then I thought about it. "You know, I'm a performer and a journalist. He's probably a plumber with a cushy union job or something. I'm probably not making more money than him."

I think there's a moral in that story. But I wouldn't recommend sharing it with your children.


Daily Limerick 12/5/2000:

A nerdy old elf, name of Jed

made a woman of ginger bread.

He brought her to life

and made her his wife

(for she was great at ginger head).



It's former (long time age) President Martin Van Buren's birthday-how do you plan to celebrate.

I'm not some presidential nerd, mind you. I happen to know it's MVB's birthday because on my first, hideously-failed attempt at college (1986-1988), me and my pals in this apartment decided to throw a party and we needed an excuse. We found out it was Martin Van Buren's birthday.

We drew pictures of MVB. With accumulated "fun facts" (or facts as fun as they can get concerning Marting Van Burne) and put them into "fortune cookies." Actually, they were tollhouse cookies wrapped around pieces of paper. They looked like hell. But we were lazy and stone.

My friend Roman later sat and unfolded all the cookies, laughing his head off at the MVB "fortunes" within. Nobody at a cookie.

I began one of the most dysfunctional, Pink-Floyedesque relationships of my life that night. We also finally pulled off the "hamster high diving act" (don't worry, no rodents were harmed).

Okay, I'll give you one of the Van Burne fortune cookie fortunes: "Martin Van Buren's initials are MVB."

But, really, we did look up some serious information, too. I can't remember any of it, but we did.


Daily Limerick 12/6/2000:

A girl with a fetish for snow

knelt down and gave Frosty a blow—

turned him on a lot

but he got so hot

his cock melted ’fore it could grow.



Now I know what it's like to be on "Survivor."

That's because I'm stucked in temporary quarters in the suburbs right now and, today, I found out the current tenant in our soon-to-be apartment is not moving out Dec. 28 as planned, but on Jan. 15.

Okay, so I haven't been eating rats. But despite the well-manicured lawns, I don't NOTICE any signs of humanity. Hell, we I do see somebody, I don't notice signs of humanity.

In this case, I'm hoping I'll be somehow voted off Suburbia. Taking off all my clothes and running around isn't helping much.


Daily Limerick 12/7/2000:

A dame slept on the couch after rum

on a Christmas Eve night when in comes

a man in a red suit

(’twas an imposter brute)

but for gifts gave up her sugar plum.



I used to appear on this public access cable TV show in Chicago called Songsation. It was a lot of things, including music by the guy who put it together (hence the title), but it also included sketch comedy type stuff, performance poetry, comedy, etc. I was in a lot of the sketches.

Well, this brought me absolutely NO fame and fortune. Well, a friend of mine saw me on the show once while flipping channels, but that doesn't count as fame, because he already knew me.

Now, I haven't been on this show in over two years. I recently got back into Chicago. And somebody recognizes me from the show! A complete stranger! Except, well...

He was the guy behind the counter in a porn store. Okay, so I think he's actually the owner, if that improves the situation at all.

Now, some of you who know me may be thinking, "Hey-he's married!" But actually, although I don't even have to explain myself, pornography is okay with my wife. Of course, there's sort of a "don't ask, don't tell" policy involved, I'll admit. Except I wouldn't get kicked out of the... er, service for being caught, it's just... Anyhow, window shopping's okay, as long as I don't go into the dressing booth, so to speak.

Anyway, what does this say about me and my comedy career? I have a niche following-of porn professionals! That sounds much better, except it's not actually nubile dames (sorry, Mike) who are the fans but guys behind the counter.

Nothing against the guy, of course. He's just making a living, and he seems like an alright guy.

I guess it's just scary to be in a porn emporium and hear, "Don't I know you from somewhere..."

Ah, fame!


Daily Limerick 12/8/2000:

A boy from Niagara Falls

for Christmas desired Molly Rawls.

He asked her yule faves

but his gift made waves

for he thought she said silver BALLS.



Do you know how they say ants and bees and such have a "collective intelligence"? How they're vitually mindless individually but, together, can create wondrous aunt hills and tunnel system and have a functioning society?

Well, I'm begining to think human beings have something similar. Individually, we're very intelligent-we can make tools, survive if stranded in the mountains, memorize all sorts of phone numbers and songs and poems, dramatic lines-whatever. The difference is that we're intelligent individually but we have a "collective stupidity" to the human race.

Go to your local mall or change channels a while. Then just try and dispute it.


Daily Limerick 12/9/2000:

Nostalgia for old London thickens

’round Christmas for Clive and Liz Frickens.

Clive gets a good wooding

for her figgy pudding

and gives her a large dose of Dickens.



So, as I understand it, Toni Braxton's breast implants ruptured.

I'm having a hard time crying over this. You're struck with a hideous disease, I feel pity. You're hit by a car, I feel pity. You put plastic bags in your breasts and they explode... Well, you're an idiot to begin with.

Also, if you're a singer, wouldn't... say, larynx implants make more sense than breast implants?


Daily Limerick 12/10/2000:

There was a young flamer named Roy

each Christmas he’d spread homo joy.

All mankind he’d blow

out at the disco

they’d call him Little Hummer Boy.



Today, I was in a store and I approached a cartoonish looking, stuffed animal reindeer, complete with Santa suit and hat, and I went to squeeze his paw, which would cause it to sing "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer" and I thought to myself...

"I don't REALLY want to do this."

And I recalled the singing bass and it's "try me" button I'd pushed. And the gorilla that sings "Wild Thing." And the singing Santas. And the Halloween goblins singing "Monster Mash." And the talking parrot...

I decided, "It's time to stop the circle of stupidity."

Someone of you are out there now. Mindlessly walking over to a penguin with a flipper that, when squeezed, will cause the bird to sing "Winter Wonderland." I feel for you. I was there once. I, too, once thought I wanted to hear the annoying songs, thought I was still amazed by 1986 technology of singing, highly portable stuffed animals...

Won't you please help me? Take a good look at yourself. Help stop the circle of stupidity. For the good of all of us.


Daily Limerick 12/11/2000:

The Christmas clock’s begun tick-tockings

for best results, start your defrockings.

For if you’re a chick

Santa has a dick

who best stuffs fishnet Christmas stockings.



Being back in Chicago, I've discovered that Christmas in Chicago is a lot like being married, whereas Christmas in L.A. is much like being single.

I have a lot of singled friends who acted like, "Whooah, dude! You're getting married! No more days as a swingin' single!" when I'd gotten engaged. However, in reality, most of my Saturday nights as a single guy entailed sitting around with my guy friends, trying to figure out all the women we were dating, ala "What do you think she meant by that-she was all flirty one minute and the next..." and "Do chicks ever leave their boyfriends when they're all flirty with you like that?"

So, when Christmas Eve hits in L.A., there's very little chance of getting snow the next day (it did, I believe, snow for Christmas in the '30s or '40s sometime in L.A.)-much like being single, where there's actually very little chance you'll actually get laid on any given evening out.

But, as my wife has pointed out, it doesn't always snow for Christmas in Chicago-just like many people point out that you don't always get laid very often when you're married. But on any given night when you're feeling frisky, there's still a better chance of getting laid than when you were single-much like, on any given Christmas Eve, there's a much better chance of getting snow in Chicago than there is in L.A.


Daily Limerick 12/12/2000:

Christmas Eve, a tired Santa unwound

munching cookies mid-way through his rounds.

A dame test-drove his dick

learned was truly St. Nick 

when down her chimney came with a bound.



Whenever somebody goes dissin' (now there's a cutting edge word for you-shows you I'm hip to the jive) my relatively low income, I just tell 'em I could be in management at a Fortune 500 company at any time, if I only wanted to do that.

At least I THINK I could get hired as a manager at the local McDonald's. I do have Long John Silver's experience in my background...


Daily Limerick 12/13/2000:

A lusty young elf they called Wesley

drooled over Santa’s helper Leslie

he’d sing to impress her

and sought to undress her

by rockin’ out as Elf-is Presley.


Daily Limerick 12/14/2000:

When getting head from granny Kaye

Ed found her teeth got in the way.

How to stuff gramps’ stocking,

she asked, he, quite shocking,

said “YOUR two front teeth—on a tray.”


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/13-14/00

Don't think you're getting TWO Slappin' and Yappin's today, just because you got two limericks.

Anyhoo, I was walking downtown today, as I'm actually making money working right now, albeit as a temp, and I saw all these signs in front of buildings that said, "Watch for Falling Ice."

I assume this is in response to the fact that some woman was killed last year (or sometime recently) by ice falling from the roof of a skyscraper. Which, of course, prompted drooling lawyers to sue these building because, of course, everybody shovels their roof so that ice doesn't kill pedestrians below, right? But now, I guess, the sign is suppose to give even more lawyers a chance to make a case that "The pedestrian was warned!" and therefore get out of any responsibility for the falling ice and its lethal tumblings. Of course, I'm not talking here about whether or not ice falling is a landlord's fault or an act of God, or even the particulars necessary for such a decision based on an individual situation, but the situation makes lawyers money and that's what is held most important here.

Whew! Sorry about that.

So anyway, how useful is a sign like this? Is this to tell me that I should walk seven blocks out of my way to find a building without such signs, and walk beside that building? Should people quit their jobs or refuse to come to work if they have to pass such a sign to get to work? Or should I take comfort in the fact that, if I look upward, I can see the ice chunk that will take my life for my last remaining moments alive (because I don't think "seeing it coming" is going to give me the added time to save my life).

Just wondering.


Daily Limerick 12/15/2000:

After a bar stint playing chugger

Scrooge was approached by a dark mugger

Felt sexu’lly queer

exposed the guy’s rear

and proceeded thus to hum-bugger.



If you've ever met, as an outsider, a group of people from an office (your girlfriend or wife's co-workers, a friend's, etc.), there a general rule you can count on:

They're always from a "crazy" office. "Aren't we all crazy?" "Where we work is SOO different from a regular office!" blah blah blah...

Why does everybody assume they're "crazy" and "nutty" and "zany" today? I mean, so what if somebody once photocopied his butt. And, sorry, but somebody in every office where those oh-so-madcap Three Stooges ties, or other ties of nostalgia. And every office has joke telling. And most workers goof off from time to time.

So STOP IT! Stop telling me about your "crazy" office. If you're filming porn flicks in the back or constantly bringing a kegger in to work, tell me THOSE stories. Otherwise, you're just like every other office, therefore missing the qualifications for being outside the bonds of normal.


Daily Limerick 12/16/2000:

Do you recall Heat and Cold Miser?

Their gifts this year show who’s the wiser.

Heat gives mere affections

But Cold gives erections

(because he invested in Pfizer).



"Love is..." (the cartoon) just has to be stopped.

I know that the woman who originally drew it died a year or two ago, and her son took over. But it started to get weird while she was still alive.

And then, the other day, I saw one that read, "Love is... A night out karaoke singing together."

NOBODY should be encouraging such a thing. And if that's what love is, well, the world needs more hatred.


Daily Limerick 12/17/2000:

A sexual pipe dream of Harold’s

starred Carol—Hill, Green, Jones and Ferrells.

Last Christmas alive

scored menage a’ five

(the one time he loved Christmas Carols!”



...And so the two potheads fell deeply in love, as was destined. You could say they were bowl mates...


Daily Limerick 12/18/2000:

In a one-night stand, Lola McGill

humped ’til she had humped to her fill.

A chipmunk, saw Lola

licked her areola

and she found she’d fucked Dave Seville.



I slap and yap, therefore I am.


Daily Limerick 12/19/2000:

A brother to Frosty was trusty

until he saw an ample busty.

He kept his bro’ quiet

for folks wouldn’t buy it—

the sex antics of Snowman Lusty.



For reasons I would rather not get into right now, I was watching the show "Yes Dear" tonight and...

Yes, I'm okay. I think the brain cell loss was only temporary. Thanks for asking.

But anyway, I got to wondering... We all know that Hollywood entails a multi-tiered system to produce all its cra... er, shows. That is, a writer writes a script, an executive producer, vice producer, assisting lieutenant producer, blah blah blah (all of who lack a single creative bone in their bodies and get jollies from fucking up other peoples' scripts), all mess it up, and then it's given to focus groups and sample audiences and blah blah blah again...

But, with a show like "Yes Dear," why doesn't somebody, just ONE PERSON along the line, say, "Excuse me but... This completely sucks camel balls." And, if listening to my uptight, dogmatically Republican neighbor rant about shovelling snow is more entertaining than an episode, considering that there are thousands of comics all over Hollywood, a couple of which can write funny lines quite regularly...

I forgot the question. But it's time for those of us with brains to get offended. Not over sacreligious stuff or sexual stuff or anything, but with plain old stupidity. And "Yes Dear" offends the hell out of me.


Daily Limerick 12/20/2000:

A dumb blonde they called ditzy Dee

helped deck the halls with ol’ McGee—

who called for the tree’s skirt,

which caused Dee to blush, flirt,

and drop hers, raising more than the tree.



Unfortunately, I'm only thinking of this now that the election is actually over, but I could've been a great marketing guy for the Republicans, for Dubya and his running mate with my slogan:

DICK 'N" BUSH IN 2000!

Now that's certainly a better promise than "A Chicken in Every Pot."

And, by the way, if PETA were around for when that came saying was new... Well, let's just say we live in an ugly world today.

Come to think of it, if I ever run for office, my slogan'll be: A PETA MEMBER IN EVERY POT!


Daily Limerick 12/21/2000:

There once was a guy named McKnuckle

who all Christmas time gave a chuckle.

He’d make party plans

with all lesbians

wear mistletoe on his belt buckle.



If you saw mama kissin' Santa Claus... You came down early enough to avoid some serious therapy some day, kiddo.


Daily Limerick 12/22/2000

“How the Grinch Stole Christmas” was pleasin’

a Christmas without it, near treason

Turn Hollywood loose

to rape Dr. Seuss

and “The Grinch” SOLD Christmas this season.


[SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/22/00 was either never sent or is forever lost]


Daily Limerick 12/23/2000

A sordid tale says that ol’ Rudolph

and his Asian reindeer pal, Buddhalph

play Christmas Eve games

and peep in on dames

with his nose light to see them nude-olph.


Daily Limerick 12/24/2000

Now if your’e a Santa Claus rookie

you’ll leave Santa milk and a cookie.

But if you know Kringle

and what makes him tingle

tonight you’ll give Santa some nookie.


Daily Limerick 12/25/2000:

Merry Christmas from Daily Limerick

may you not have to give the h(e)imlich.

My greeting’s sincere

though this deserves jeer

but, hey, what the hell rhymes with “limerick”?


Daily Limerick 12/26/2000:

While an ant hill’s IQ beats its sum

human beings are collectively dumb

While this New Year’s is ripe

last year spent all the hype

when this time’s the real millennium.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/23/-12/26/2000

Well, I won't do a lot of yappin' today. Slappin', well, that all depends on my mood when I shower up later.

I'm sending four limericks off the bat because I'll be out of town tomorrow night and I figured, hey, the true meaning of Christmas is taking a few days off.

Read only one per day, however. Otherwise you'll overdose. And, believe me, that gets pretty ugly.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hannuka, Kwaazy Kwanza and Rockin' Ramadan!


Daily Limerick 12/27/2000:

Resolving many a male leer

a dame took her breasts up a tier

for Jan’ary First

her implants were nursed

she named ’em both “Boobie New Year.”



Now, I don't exactly have the facts straight here, but this is not journalism but limericism. Or something.

Some NFL team, I believe it's the Green Bay Packers, it's seeking to ban Eminem from playing in their stadium under some NFL rules clause that would allow them to do so based on the concert being "incompatible or inconsistent" with the NFL image.

Let's take a closer look at this. Eminem is often accused of glorifying domestic abuse; Eminem is, in general, often accused of glorifying violence; Eminem is known for criminal activiy; Eminem is ridiculously overpaid when you consider his actual worth to society.

I think perhaps Eminem is TOO compatible with the NFL image. Have you read the sports pages lately?


Daily Limerick 12/28/2000:

A Tom-boyish woman, Meg Booshen

stopped shaving, and make-up, and douche-in’

after many young turks

(as she liked ’em, were jerks)

as part of her New Year’s Lez-olution.



I read about another one today. This time, in China. A fire killed hundreds of young people.

I've read similar stories recently about similar fires. I remember one in South Korea in particular. I don't remember much about other recent fires, except that they were in Asia.

Now, here's the common thread in these fires: They were in "illegal discos."

Does somebody have an explanation? These fires weren't in legal discos. And they weren't in illegal gambling halls or brothels or even illegal crack houses.

Perhaps we can learn from the tragedies. Especially this last story. I don't know about preventing fires or anything, but the idea of making disco illegal certainly intrigues me. And the issue might have actually gotten me excitied about a candidate in this last election!


Daily Limerick, 12/29/2000:

On New Year’s Eve, masochist Jane

met a champ of the bowling lane.

She flirted so slight

when clock struck midnight

she helped herself to some Champ Pain.



What the hell's with Mel Gibson's teeth? Can anybody answer that?

Have you seen the commercials and print ads for that (probably) atrocious "What Women Want"? Well, apparently women want a guy who's bound to catch bugs in his teeth because his lips never touch. You know damn well some agent/publicity guy/whatever the hell tells good ol' Mel, "Now, flash those teeth all you can! A woman loves those never retreating choppers!"

I don't know if you find any of this amusing. But, I beg of you, if you have any insigts at all, let me know...

Just what's the hell's up with Mel Gibson's teeth?


Daily Limerick 12/30/2000:

Bart needed a New Year’s solution

(he near suffered from porn pollution)

to boost his self sex

to quadruple X

so he made a high resolution.


Daily Limerick 12/31/2000:

A horny and sneaky old coot

met a foreign, buxom galloot.

As she was naive

taught of New Year’s Eve

and had her drain his “Champaign Flute.”


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/30-12/31/2000

Well, here they are! The last Daily Limericks of the millennium!

For all you non-sticklers out there who were too worn out from celebrating the phony turn of millennium, realize that in 1900 nobody celebrated! The people 100 years ago had enough brains and patience to know that the new millennium didn't start until 1901!

Even the alleged "journalists" all seem to think we're in a new millennium already. They call folks like me a "stickler." No, adhering to facts does not make you a stickler. If you went into a donut shop, ordered a dozen donuts, paid for a dozen donuts and received only eleven... Would you be a "stickler" if you complained?





Blah [NOTE: I believe that this one was left in the file as a cut-and-paste aid.]


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 then committed to at least a year of the limericks—a milestone I’ve already past! At this point, I’m not entirely sure why I’m continuing this, but I have no definite plans to stop—so perhaps I’ll do this 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 in 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.


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