Daily Limerick
Archives: April 2001

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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Daily Limerick 4/1/2001:

A man who for civil rights marched

met two girls in white with throats parched.

He gave ’em some water

but splashed up the daughter

which made his pants carnally starched.



It's April Fool's Day! I thought about foolin' you all with a limerick or something, but this whole e-newsletter is foolish enough. Perhaps Slappin' and Yappin' should bring you serious news today, but it won't.

We have been, however, the primary source of Bozo news for many people, I must say.

Here's a conundrum to chew on on your foolish holiday. Why do we men wash our hands AFTER going to the bathroom? Considering how fond most men are of our phalluses, doesn't it make sense to wash our hands BEFORE, so that it keeps the thing shiny clean, should anybody wanna play with it?

It's probably best to wash before AND after, actually.



I thought I'd let everybody know that "Squirrel Boy" (or, well, I refer to him with many similar anonymous monikers here) is suffering from a bad upper respiratory infection. He's actually the main contributor to LETTERS TO THE IDIOT, which I'm sure makes his parents proud.

So feel free to use LETTERS TO THE IDIOT as a message board for well-wishing to Nut Hoarder, if you'd like.


Daily Limerick 4/2/2001:

A city boy named Melton Dobber

went fishing, which wore out his knobber.

Brought an oral slut

who sucked off his nut

’cause she heard he needed a bobber.



The other day a friend of mine was making fun of me for wanting to head home after a night on the town around midnight.

Now, I'm certainly a prime target for fun-making, if for no other reason than the fact that everybody is. But...

This was, in fact, a Saturday night. I had my reasons-namely, that I was originally set to leave the house rather early (around 5:30 p.m.) and that on Sunday I had to fax jobs from the Sunday papers, etc. Plus, I have to get up early all week and would prefer not to get my internal clock all aflutter, which tends to happen when I stay up into the wee hours-can't get to bed somewhat early Sunday as I got up to late, end up late for work, etc. Blah blah blah.

But anyway, it got me to thinking: What is with this obsession with staying out late among people in my age group?

When I first went off to college at 18, up into my early 20s I stayed up 'til 3 a.m., sometimes 5 a.m. or later (earlier?)-as a rebellion, I guess. After living with your parents and being disciplined into keeping "normal" hours, and getting up for high school early, etc., you rebel. This naturally continued into your 20s. Oh, and sometimes when you're unemployed, I suppose.

But now, I'm not really seeing the point in it, by itself. It doesn't matter if you schlop around all night, merely TALKING about hitting on members of the opposite sex, and if you don't do anything particularly nutty, like skydiving, but somehow, being up late is, in itself, seen as some sort of rebellious, happy-go-lucky, nutty-as-all-hell activity.

I saw it as a badge of honor when I was younger. For a while, I just couldn't stay up to see if Santa really existed. Then somebody managed to stay up until like 2 or 3 a.m. and I was like, "wow."

But, at this point, I'm unimpressed.


Daily Limerick 4/3/2001:

A nudist’s virginity ended

by another she had befriended

while strolling, bent over

for a four-leaf clover

in the colony, was rear-ended.



Let me fill you in on one of the little known benefits of being a married man: You can leer away at women without fear of what they think of you.

Well, of course, there are a few exceptions. It's probably not best to do in the presence of your wife. And it's probably not best to practice upon those who know your wife.

Otherwise, realize I'm talking about LOOKING, mind you. Not having sexual relations, not dating, not petting, not flirting-not even TALKING.

See, like most men, I see a good looking woman and I want to leer. I don't wanna take a sneaky little peak. My first instinct is to take a good, long look-the kind that feels evil, slimy, perhaps necessitating a shower by the receiver immediatley after. The kind that makes clothes feel as if they're being peeled off.

I don't worry what these other women think of now. When single, getting laid/getting a girlfriend (potato, potahto) was about the only thing on my mind. I couldn't leer too much-what if I meet the woman some day at a bar or something and she remembers? What if she sees me leering everyday and tells all her friends? Why care any more-I'm spoken for, and I can afford to not give a crap what you think of me!

Now, we do have some female Daily Limerick subscribers, and they may be thinking, "That sure sounds sexist." If it's sexist to admit something that all guys long to do, well, then call me Clarence Thomas. And these are women who are just walking by-whom I'll never know on any level. It's not a boss or a co-worker. So, sure, as people just passing by in my life, I see them as sex objects. No more than the guy who rings you up at the convenience store is a retail object. Ladies, tell me you care if the guy gets out of that dead end job and gets into college. No, you only care if he rings up your Evian and Snickers bar correctly! Most of the people we come across in our lives ARE OBJECTS.

So, just call me King Leer.


Daily Limerick 4/4/2001:

There once was a fellow named Rosen

who assumed that he had been Chosen

to stir music’s kettle

with Polka Speed Metal

so he bought leather lederhosen.



I saw a piece in the Sunday paper about the cost of current concerts. I don't have the facts and names in front of me, but one of the lower end concerts carried a ticket price of around $75 (there were others more than double that). In the breakdown, a good deal of that cost was Ticket Master and other industry executive mark-ups.

While we're on the topic, why do people spend hours and hours online downloading Napster-type songs? When the tape recorder was such an industry threat, do you recall a whole lot of people whose entire collections were in taped copies? Well, I think we all had that ONE friend... The point is, people wouldn't be going through the whole pain in the ass if the crap-headed music executives wouldn't have inflated the damn prices so much.

Likwise, why the hell go to a movie theater anymore? You can see one of a half-dozen look alike "teen" comedies for a price tag that can actually get you into most plays.

Ah, the advent of mass media was meant to bring art back into the hands of the masses instead of the elite. Well, who do you suppose will be seeing U2 this summer...



(in reply to Slappin' and Yappin' 4/3/2001:)

>We're all objects, huh? I object to that! (and I object to the fact that no

>one cares I'm sick -- though to be truthful, I don't care much, either :)


>Whirly Squirrel

Nobody cares that I'm sick, either. But you have to admit, somebody who'd devote ANY amount of free time to Daily Limerick or Slappin' and Yappin' has gotta be sick.

And I don't care! Neither do I care about that Jimmy character crackin' corn.


Daily Limerick 4/5/2001:

Most feel that Viagra is risky

and women, too, long to stay frisky.

So as you get older

and wish sex were bolder

let’s not forget our old friend: Whisky.



I read a news story today that involved an arbitrator named J. Chumley.

He he. That's funny.

I didn't make up the name, and I've been collecting a few fun ones. Then, I figure, at some point, I can do a performance thing which is just 5 minutes or so of real, funny names.

My sister worked for an attorney named Dick Short. (Why he didn't go by "Richard" is beyond me.)

I worked with a girl named Betty Kielbasa. Also, a Tina Gaydar.

I schooled with a girl named Tracey Guttekunst (pronounced: Goody-Kuntz.) He he. ("Schooled," by the way, is a new, hip term I invented).

I've delivered envelopes when I was a law clerk to a lawyer named Ronald J. Crummy.

I recall a state congressman (or something like that-some sort of local politician) named Charles Swindle. He was eventually indicted for, get this: Swindling taxpayer money.

That is all for now. Which reminds me, I need a good ending phrase for Slappin' and Yappin'.


Daily Limerick 4/6/2001:

Candy was often thought of by Sam

when he was at home, slamin’ the ham.

One day was quite upset

at the choc’late he’d get

when he sent himself a candy gram.



I know this is engaging in a little nit-picky, writerly humor that most people can't stand but, hell, this is Slappin and Yappin, not Entertainment Weekly.

There's a sing on the refridgerator where I'm working, basically a warning about leaving your food in the fridge too long (it'll get thrown out). There's a list of the types of food that will be thrown out, and among them:

"Food that smells badly"


"outdated food."

Any food that's doing smelling isn't quite dead. And how can a living entity smell BADLY? Is that food with a cold? So it's okay if you stuff a healthy pig in there? Or does it mean, you can't throw a cow into the fridge if it is uncoordinated and, every time it tries to sniff something, it misses the mark and can't get its nostrils close enough-because, of course, it smells badly.

And what the hell is "outdated" food? Is that like the lard sandwiches my grandma told me she had to eat during the depression (because we can get fairly cheap canned goods if you're really poor and now we're too health-conscious to eat lard sandwiches)? Is figgy pudding outdated-I've never seen figgy pudding.

Yes, of all the targets out there, I'm targeting those who write lunch-room signs for offices. Slappin' and Yappin'-champion of justice.


Daily Limerick 4/7/2001:

I snuck to a window to see

a woman undressing—for free!

I got a good peeky

and I was so sneaky

that I had to hand it to me.



I'm finally fed-up with all the Starbuckses and the cappucinos and frappucinos and the "half skim, half 2% milk foam-just a touch" crap. (Although, should someone invent a "Slappin' and Yappuccino, I might jump on the bandwagon.) Well, I've been fed up for some time. But I'm SOO fed up at this point that one of my previously favorite things, the coffee house, has went from a haven for artists and writers and misfits to hang out all day playing backgammon and scribbling in notebooks into these snooty strongholds of cell phone calls to stockbrokers that...

If I'm ever rich, I'm going to open up "Just Coffee." A customer interaction will go something like this:

"Hello, I'd like a grande mocha latte with skim milk."

"Sorry. We only have coffee."

"Yes, well, that's a coffee drink. Just put some espresson in a cup with some steamed milk on top and..."

"Sorry. No espresso. Just coffee. We don't even have the milk. A little bit of sugar on the counter."

"Oh, do you have sugar in the raw?"

"Nope. Just white, processed, American non-Communist sugar. By the way, lady, if you're gonna stay, you'll have to observe our 'No Non-Smoking' policy."

"What? I'm not smoking."

"No, lady, you HAVE to smoke if you wanna stay in here."

"But I don't smoke."

"Here's a cigar. Not light up, or get the hell out."

Ah, the vision is so pleasant! Just to see the looks on their faces!

More evidence why I should never be given any sort of real power in the world.


Daily Limerick 4/8/2001:

A lousy knight, often assailed

by a maiden who’d said he failed.

Caught him masurbatin’

and started beratin’

and upon his “lance” was impaled.



I've got a new reason for you to be religious. Well, it's a new angle to support your dogma.

By the way, for what it's worth, and even though it isn't necessary, let me say now that many of us at the Daily Limerick do, in fact, believe in God. We just don't believe in religion and all its fantastical stories.

But... It's always been a question of mine, toward the religious: Why did God always come to Earth and do all the miracles and such centuries ago, when today, he could just go on TV and make believers out of all of us. Not that we'd believe him at first, I'm sure, but he could throw out a few miracles and stuff, take advantage of the media age, if he's really interested in converting us to whatever religion is actually "right."

And the answer could be...

Lawyers. Yep. God shows his face and BAM! The feminists group slap 'em with a suit for that menstruation thing. Then WHAM! The African-Americans slap him with a suit for making them more likely to get sickle cell anemia. BAM! Wimps across the country sue his ass for making them weaker than others and all the emotional trauma, blah blah blah.

You get the idea.

Silly, I'll admit. But if you don't think lawyers would take cases against God, you'd have a suit against him for leaving you a little short in the grey matter category.


Daily Limerick 4/9/2001:

A doctor and nympho named Happ

based her practice on the man’s lap.

Her realm of precision:

adult circumcision.

She fashioned her own foreskin cap.



Here's a tip for you, if you wanna see somebody give you a really funny look:

Go to a store and hit the check-out with the following items:

One of those giant, almost-baseball bat-like summer sausages

A can of Crisco

A roll of breath mints

Let the fun ensue.



Secret Squirrel (Indian Name: He who is not cared for in sickness) writes:

>Your Slappin' and Yappin' brought up a frightening idea (as they usually

>do). Okay, you know how it says in the Bible that "The meek shall inherit

>the Earth?" Well, who are meeker than lawyers? I mean yeah, they talk big,

>and they shout a lot in the courtroom, but that's probably just to cover up

>the fact they were picked on in school. They're all 98-pound weaklings! So

>basically, if lawyers are God's Plan, we're screwed! Tra la la.

Hmmm. Don't you just marvel at the intellectual-ness brought on by Slappin' and Yappin'?

Anyway, here's a personal story that makes me and Mike's ponderings all the more eerie:

You know how sometimes you get a song in your head and you change the words? Well, I used to cerebrally sing: "Jesus Christ, Attorney at Law, with that 3 piece fish dinner would you care for some slaw!"

Gives you shivers, don't it? (By the way, part of those lyrics were Long John Silver's related. On another odd note, a three piece fish dinner COMES with some slaw, so you wouldn't have to ask Mr. Christ about it. Stepping up the eerie lvel yet again, SLAW has the word LAW in it, relating back to lawyers yet again...)


Daily Limerick 4/10/2001:

There once was a lady named Durbin

whose lust never showed signs of curbin’.

Met a virgin felly

who hailed form New Delhi

and boffed him right out of his turban.



Isn't the term, "MTV Reporter" kind of a... misnomer or something?


Daily Limerick 4/11/2001:

A slut girl who owned a dry cleaner

thought eating sperm would make her leaner.

At each bash with food

she’d hunt down a dude

and gulp down the guy’s cocktail wiener.



I've been reading in the newspaper about this Perry Mason-esque case wherein Fruit of the Loom is accusing some other underwear maker (excuse the lazy research once again) of stealing "trade secrets."

Now I can tell the difference between boxers and briefs. Regular, tighty-whitey briefs and thong-like briefs. (For those asking, I wear boxers until I run out and then I throw on the tighty-whities, some of which are actually not white. But no pink. Fruitcake.)

But... Is Fruit of the Loom doing something incredible with the art of underwear I'm unaware of? TRADE SECRETS? Is underwear that difficult, that complex?

This does remind me, however, of a joke from grade school: Fruit of the Boom Exploding Underwear.

That's it. That's the joke. Might want to re-read it.

Hell, we were young and easily amused.

What's the excuse of all those people tuning in to "DAG"?

I don't mean to be brief, but what else can I say about this underwear espionage? I guess they're just Jockey-ing for control of the market. When it Hanes, it pours.

Oh, I'll knock it off now. Before I lose any more supporters and start thinking the cup is half empty instead of half full.


Daily Limerick 4/12/2001

A lusty young lawyer named Zeke

goosed his secretary all week.

Too meek to accuse

her right bun did bruise

so she just turned the other cheek.



Have you heard the news! Steven Seagal is going to make an album.

It's about time! Just the other day, I was thinking, "You know what the world needs? It's another actor or actress making godawful music! Especially a wooden thespian who focuses on martial arts flick that are godawfully lame even by Hollywood standards."

According to Seagal, music is his "first love."

Naomi Campbell is also talking of mounting a singing career. (No jokes about Naomi Campbell and mounting, please.)

Funny how your "first love" always comes out when your "first career" is rapidly descending down the tubes.



From Milton Squirrel:

>Y'know, I always thought those "Hanes, Her Way" slogans were hiding


Yes, you should go into the business of underwear espionage. It's a thong and lonely road, but some wouldn't trade it for the world.


Daily Limerick 4/13/2001:

A soda pop making home wrecker

sought guys who were willing to checker

their pasts by donating

from their masturbating

and named her new drink Dr. Pecker.



So, it's Friday the 13th! What the hell does that mean? Your life tomorrow will have a really horrible plot and a dozen or so sequels?

By the way, how stupid have we become as a society? Well, advertising obviously works, or they wouldn't be naming all our stadiums and theaters after companies, right? So if McDonald's spent gajillions of dollars to develop this "We love to see you smile" campaign, I guess most of us, even if it's deep down and largely subconscious, believe that these $5 an hour workers, embodying the dictionary definition of disgruntled, urinating in the fry vat, just love to see I smile.

I maintain that they love to see us leave.

And the executive types would be more realistic to come up with a jingle, "We love to see your wallet."



"He Who Has Had His Monicker Stolen Many Times" checks in, commenting on yesterday's Daily Limerick with:


Well, it's not exactly erudite, but I appreciate any letters I do receive. If I had a year's supply of Turtle Wax, it would be yours.

By the way, don't get all excited thinking about the deeds of Moniker Lewinsky. It's MONICA, yahoo.


Daily Limerick 4/14/2001:

A Trekkie who’d whip out his thing on

each ref’rence to Star Trek you’d bring on

engaged in ass-likin’

(for putting his dick in)

dubbed “Searchin’ ur-anus for cling-ons.”


Daily Limerick 4/15/2001:

A narcoleptic girl did follow

the sex tips of her gay friend Rollo.

Her boyfriends did flips

from his oral tips

’twas the “Legend of Sleepy Swallow.”


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 4/14 & 4/152001

What exactly is a hole? It's a gap in some sort of solid substance, I suppose, but if you look at the hole itself, it's basically nothing.

Therefore, one could argue that we're surrounded by holes.

And despite it's rather odd location, an asshole is really, according to it's substance, just like any other hole.

Therefore, one can argue that we're surrounded by assholes.


LETTERS TO THE IDIOT 4/14 & 4/15/2001

In response to the Daily Limerick of 4/13, Scooby's Pal writes:

>Bah bah ba re-bah.

I just looked back at the limerick for 4/13, and even at Slappin' and Yappin', and I don't know what the hell to make of that comment.

But better to have had nonsensical replies that no replies at all, some old poet or other bleeding heart said, sorta.


Daily Limerick 4/16/2001:

A nerdy schoolgirl they called Mucky

did lust for the quarterback, Chucky.

Then one day she found

Lucky, his lost hound

and told everyone she “Got Lucky.”



Sure. Today's Easter, and that's supposed to be all holy and stuff, but tomorrow is an especially sacred day as well.

It's the anniversary of me being hired at Long John Silver's.

For the record, I'm not still working at Long John Silver's but, having been temping for almost 5 months, the option doesn't seem too bad.

It's also the anniversary of the invention of LSD. Get this, too: Long John Silver's was the first place I did LSD with my manager.

Again, for the record, I'm not still doing LSD. Although that would go a long way toward explaining Slappin' and Yappin'.

I will say, however, that I did have the right to brag that I worked in a "Crazy Office" while I was at Long John Silver's. As Slappin' and Yappin' has mentioned before, through groundbreaking (but curiously overlooked for a Pulitzer) investigative reporting, there is a new trend toward saying, "Our office is so darn crazy!" Hey, I'll spin you a few tales of Long John Silver's, you blather on about Bill from accounting and his wacky ties, and we'll late an impartial judge decide which workplace was truly crazy. Then the rest of you can shut up. We'll go on the People's Court with it or something.

But while we're on the topic of Easter, does anybody else think that "Good Friday" is improperly named? I've had some pretty bad Fridays, but I don't think being nailed to a cross would qualify as a Good Friday. Or even a Good Monday, for that matter.


Daily Limerick 4/17/2001:

Of gayness, seems nature does cause it—

though this P.C. world begs me posit:

Since we’ve come so far

male Hollywood stars

should in droves come out of the closet.



This may date me a bit, but I remember when "Magic Carpet Ride" was a retro cool song. The type of song that it seemed like you discovered, tucked away for a good 20 years or so only to emerge really rockin'.

Now I've heard it accompanying some commercial and I realize it's over. The song can never be cool again.

I suppose some songs can withstand the advertising demon's evil clutches. It's hard to imagine them ruining Jimi Hendrix, for instance. (Then again, in all honesty, when I've listened to Hendrix recently, I'll admit, sadly, I've been known to hit the "forward" button on my disc player over a commercial-stolen song or two.)

It's kinda like Fleetwood Mac. At one time, the band conjured up the image of lava lamps and large bongs. Now, former President Clinton and a bunch of rhythmically-challenged Democratic delegates doing something vaguely resembling shaking the booty.

We don't need censorship in this country, I guess. Give it time, and corporations kill all the art that once said something subversive.


Daily Limerick 4/18/2001:

A Nintendo nerd boy named Shamey

fell in love with the on-screen Jamie.

He wished her to life

and made her his wife

but found that her muff tasted Gamey.



"Crocodile Dundee In Los Angeles."

Fabulous. First of all, there's nary a day where I don't wake up and think, "Damn! Why can't they make another Crocodile Dundee movie!"

Secondly, what a strange coincidence that it's set in Los Angeles. Out of all the cities in the U.S., in fact, in the world... And you know, it's wonderful, too, because we don't see enough movies set in Los Angeles. Just like we don't see enough wacky sitcoms set in Manhattan!

By the way, tomorrow's the anniversary of the death of Ernie Pyle. Mourn or not at your option.


Daily Limerick 4/19/2001:

A thespian (one of the best)

liked Shakespeare’s stuff more than the rest.

Once down on her luck

and needing a buck

she did play the lead in “MacBreast.”



I saw an ad for one of those Viagra-type medications the today that trumpeted the following: "Beats Your First Time!"

My question is: Is that really saying much? By beating your first time does that mean being too worried about how you're performing to enjoy it and spending yourself in half a minute? For myself, I actually did it a second time on my first tryst, right after I got my damn pants off!


Daily Limerick 4/20/2001:

A frontiersman stud from St. Lou

had sex with two squaws of the Sioux.

They named him a town

later switched around

but orig’nally “Timfucktwo.”



That damn China! How dare they have a government censor what appears in the media! A real civilized nation let's the mega-merged corporations do that! With a little help from political correctness.


Daily Limerick 4/21/2001:

A young boy was sent up the pike

after his town flooded, poor Mike.

Had read an old tale

just before the gale

and stuck his finger in a dike.



Forget about the elderly and handicapped. People should give up their seats on public transportation for others who are actually DOING SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE.

That's right. I'm sick of getting on the train with my newspaper to see some lunk using a valuable seat so he can just sit there and stare into space like a slab of ribs. Hey, pal, I'm juggling my backpack and a newspaper. That's right, I read the newspaper, keep up on things, so I can actually vote. I'm doing an imporant duty. If it weren't for people like me, slacker pieces of shit like you would be living in a fascist dictatorship right now because you're sure as hell not gonna pay attention to those in power absolutely leaning toward corruption. Or maybe I'm not doing anything that important, but I'm keeping up on current events to entertain those like you with our IQ of a turnip.

So give up your seat to a non-vegetable, moron. Followed by the elderly and handicapped. Or preferentially to the elderly handicapped who are actually doing something instead of sitting there like a warm, recently released pile of feces.



We have not one but TWO letters in today's installment. Okay, it's partially because they were responses to two different days and I was a bit lax in my duties, but it's HISTORIC nonetheless! Some day, you'll be telling your grandchildren about some other event that happened when this happened, and maybe you'll remember it, if you even READ Letters to the Idiot. Or something.

Squirrel Haggard checks in, referring to the 4/18/2001 Slappin' and Yappin:

>Ernie Pyle? He died 21 years before I was born! Besides, I'm too busy

>mourning Joey Ramone.

Ah, so it seems somebody knows who Ernie Pyle was, anyway. Yes, Joey Ramone died, too, but he's no Ernie Pyle. Although Ernie Pyle was certainly no Joey Ramone, either. And you, Squirrel Haggard, are certainly no Jack Kennedy.

Dated jokes! Get your dated jokes.

Rodent Boy checks in yet again, referring to the 4/19/2001 Daily Limerick (again, remember this. Years from now you'll all be discussing where you were when two letters first followed Slappin' and Yappin'):

>In God we tryst.

Which was referring to the Slappin' and Yappin' about the Viagra-like product that advertised "Better than Your First Time."

I suppose I should comment, but it's just so damn stupid that... It IS, of course, in the spirit of Slappin' and Yappin' though so... But I don't think we wanna bring God into this. Although I'm certain he's more likely to read Slappin' and Yappin' than those stupid personal ads thanking him for undisclosed whatever ("Prayers Answered") in your daily newspaper.


Daily Limerick 4/22/2001:

There was a gay fellow named Strunk

who save fluids from ev’ry hunk

he’d happen to lay—

sold it on e-bay—

one man’s gold’s another man’s spunk.



A while back I wrote about that exciting espionage tale recently in the news. How some underwear company was stealing Fruit of the Loom's secrets.

Now, I don't know which company figured this out, but one secret I wish they'd all follow concerns boxer shorts. Now, much ado has been made of the "Barn Door," or little hole in the front that's supposed to be used for whipping it through in order to take a whiz (which is never used for said purpose). But what I like about that hole is when your Willy flops out while you're going about your day's business. In a way, a re-enactment of "Free Willy."

Hey, I'm not sicko. I wouldn't personally put my fella out that hole and walk around. But when it happens on accident, I make sure and roll with it.


Daily Limerick 4/23/2001:

A doctor, says modern mythology

forgot one patient’s frail psychology.

Neglected a full

yearly physical

then issued a formal proctology.



For the record, I've never ordered anything and added "hold the onions" in my life.

So there.


Daily Limerick 4/24/2001:

A mad ukelelist named Goolips

mixed up a strong batch of mint juleps

and did serenade

a virginal maid

and tip-toed right on through her two-lips.



With all the recent hubub over sports teams named after Native Americans and stuff, I say, rather than get all PC and rectify the situation, we just go ahead and stereotype EVERYBODY and get some REALLY Politically Incorrect team names working, ala the San Francisco Homos and the New York Jew Lawyers and the Philadelphia Fat-Asses.

Hey, I didn't invent the stereotypes. I just use 'em for a cheap joke now and again.


Daily Limerick 4/25/2001:

A horny Jew grandma, Ms. Hedel

between doling soup with her ladle

stole her grandson’s toys

for rubbing off joys

and once was caught robbing the dreidel.



Did you happen about the guy who was fired in Pennsylvania for doctoring brownies?

Know, he wasn't playing "doctor" with the little girl equivalent of Boy Scouts (which reminds me of the old, bad joke, "I got kicked out of Cub Scouts for eating a Brownie"). Somebody at his place of work was eating his food. So he baked up some brownies with ex-lax and put 'em in the fridge with his name on them.

Sure enough, his boss pooped himself silly. And fired the guy. The guy sued to at least retain his pension, etc., and the courts ruled against him.

I think they should've reinstated the guy's job and slapped a hefty fine on the thievin' boss.

I can only remember three fist-fights I've even been in. One was when this guy, Mike Freuh, just taunted me into it in grade school. In another, a friend of mine stole my milk in junior high. In a third, some ass kept taking my French fries at lunch during high school.

Sense a trend here? Food is serious business.

It's one of my biggest pet peeves: You go through a drive-thru with a friend. He says he doesn't want anything. You know he's broke. You offer to get him a fry, maybe a small burger. He says, "Naw..." Then, you drive away, and he helps himself to "a couple" fries.

Dating back to the old English common law, you're legally able to get away easier roughing somebody up if they've invaded your home. It's based on the ancient belief that "A man's home is his castle" (at least until he moves in with a woman). I think a similar law should apply to food. A man's snack is his... Chalice. Or something.

A basic, inaliable human right was assailed when that poor man had his lunches stolen. An affront to all that is good and decent occured when one Pat Bjeerning grabbed a handful of my French fries.

Why do I suddenly feel like Homer Simpson? There's gotta be some sprinkles in this house, somewhere...


Daily Limerick 4/26/2001:

An unwanted bull dyke named Glover

had quite a drought under her covers.

To stop getting tenser

made a tongue dispenser

and called it her Pezbian lover.



"Scary Movie -- II" is reportedly in the works.

Just when you think it can't get any worse, it does. And I think this is a first. A SEQUEL of a PARODY of a MULTI-SEQUEL movie which was, basically, a PARODY already.

Can it still go lower?

Perhaps I shouldn't ask.


Daily Limerick 4/27/2001:

There once was a lady named Mabel

car broke down and no one was able

to get the thing goin’

but kind stranger, Owen

did dish out some fine jumper cable.



Today was "Bring Your Kid to Work Day" (or was it "Child"?) Formerly "Bring Your Daughter to Work Day," but now political correctness is all-powerful in both directions for all manner of inconsequential doings.

So this meant kids were running loose through the office I'm temping at today, helping to ensure that even less actually got done, in their wild search for fun and Pokemon and what have you with nary a care in the world about the actual workplace.


Shouldn't this be reserved for people with interesting jobs? Do you want your child to see you slave away for some ego-mad attorney, typing away because he couldn't waste 10 hours in a typing class, while he mumbles into a dictaphone for you and reads his latest "Wine Spectator" magazine? Even if you're an attorney, unless you're involved with criminal law or something, really, you pouring over tax codes isn't going to motivate the kid into striving for success.

Really, if you have an exciting job, well, in those rare cases this makes sense. If you're a doctor, or a fireman, or an entertainer, or a porn star...

Well, maybe not if you're a porn star. We don't need kids running around those sets screaming for Pokemon.



Ol' Chief Cheeks Full Of Nuts delights us all with this:

>Oh, believe me John, it gets entirely worse. Marlan Brando is reportedly

>going to be part of the Scary Movie II cast. Help...

Aaarrgh! Stop giving away my secret identity! Oh, that's right. It appears at the top of every one of these.

I personally like the thought of Brando Calrisian (SIC?) better.


Daily Limerick 4/28/2001:

There once was a hooker in Billings

who’d do you for nickels or shillings

and she was so good

that her neighborhood

was named unofficially “Willings.”



I thought I'd bring you an update on funny names I'm collecting.

In today's newspaper there was a story about Peruvian pyramids in the news, featuring an archaeologist's wife, Winifred Creamer.

I encountered the name of a man from the Cook County State's Attorney's office: Leonard Cahnmann (con-man; and undoubtedly a lawyer before he got the job, to boot!).

And, now this takes the cake: I read an obituary about a man named John P. Feely. He was a postal worker. If he were sensitive, they probably called him Touchy-Feely. But, get this: He was also a DEPARTMENT STORE SANTA! Now, would you let a guy named Feely do a job that entails kids sitting on his lap?

ALSO... Today is the birthday of Saddam Hussein AND Jay Leno. Speculate at will. I, personally, have never seen the two together at the same time, but I sense a bad comedy bit coming to life if I push this theory too far...


Limerick 4/29/2001:

An astronaut dame, Jennie Chang

went up into space with a gang

of men, bunch of finks,

most drinking orange drinks

but one got a taste of poon-Tang.



Are crabs... Grouchy?


Daily Limerick 4/30/2001:

A man in the ’burbs of Des Moines

sought to name a town for his loins.

Built one by a rock

shaped much like his cock

and named his new village Des Groines.



I recently had the misfortune of buying a loaf of unsliced bread. I can honestly report that sliced bread is, indeed, a great thing. However, I often wonder: What was the greatest thing BEFORE sliced bread?



RE: Slappin' & Yappin' 4/29/2001, the Social Tree Climber writes:

>Are crabs grouchy? Who knows. I wonder if the young ones watch Blue's Claws.


Ugh is right. That pun was quite ugh-ly. I don't know, myself, if young crabs watch Blue's Claws. Many of them do play Dungeoness & Dragons, though.









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.


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