Daily Limerick
Archives: January 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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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.


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Bend over... Here comes today’s DAILY LIMERICK newsletter. Now lubricated with SLAPPIN’ AND YAPPIN’ commentary! This is the ONLY e-newsletter with a feature that rhymes with “Rappin’ and Mappin’”! (As far as I know.) (Oh, and another thing: I believe the “Rappin’ and Mappin’” feature exists in a hip-hop e-newsletter celebrating great cartographers like Amerigo Vespucci and... er, Elvis Rand and Punky McNally.) (Oh, by the way, I don’t really know Rand and McNally’s first names.) (Oh, by the way, perhaps Rand McNally is one name, with Rand as the first and McNally as the last name.) (Oh, by the way, I’ll knock off the parens now and let you groan over today’s dreck!) (Oh, I couldn’t resist—they’re asking me to make this into a screenplay called “Meet the Parens”!) (Okay, I’ll really knock it off now.)


Daily Limerick 1/1/2001:

I wish you shmucks Happy New Year!

And if growing booty you fear

so much you get mifffed

and get a butt lift

I’ll wish you a Happy New Rear!


Daily Limerick 1/2/2001:

It’s fin’ll Two Thousand and One

an end to the Holiday fun—

no more bad forced rhymes

to match the Yule times

for that, I s’pose, be glad it’s done!


Daily Limerick 1/3/2001:

A fag who got by singing choral

sent a TV preacher a floral

arrangement, a’ dreamin’

he’s send Roberts beamin’

because he heard that they were oral.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 1/1-1/3/2001

Happy New Year! May old acquaintances be forgot, at least when it pertains to one-night stands!

The power's still on! The New World Order hasn't marched in to overtake us all! God hasn't come to Earth and fried all the sinners!

Oh, sorry. It was only trendy to worry about those things last year, for the fake new millennium celebration.

Anyway, aren't you glad that Blockbuster censors its movies? Because a flick like "9 1/2 Weeks" is great family viewing, once the overly sexual scenes are taken out. Don't you think?


Daily Limerick 1/4/2001:

A bimbo from Kuala Lumpur

desired to protest—cause a stir.

Spraying fake blood with PETA

harrassed unshaven Rita

and said, “I thought we were protesting fur!”



It's a whole new year, a whole new millennium, and the limericks aren't getting better.

By the way, why hasn't Alec Baldwin moved to Canada yet? He said he would if Bush won. Maybe he's waiting for the inauguration. Perhaps he can take Barbra and Rosie O'Donnell with him, too.


Daily Limerick 1/5/2001:

There once was a hot little nurse

who thrived when male patients were terse.

Cured the situation

with an application

of her pink, silky, fleshy purse.



Have you seen all these wannabe-hip lists recently of everything that's "out" for the New Year? Well I've always felt these lists pull punches, so I"d like to list a few things that should be extinct in 2001:

1.) Magic

David Copperfield and all you knuckleheads: We have special effects now. When I can see realistic looking dinosaurs eating people on screen and Matrix-like sci-fi stuff, levitating a woman and even making the Empire State Building disappear isn't worth more than a yawn.

2.) Karaoke

Remember when we used to make fun of the "Mr. Microphone" advertised on TV. We were right the first time. Nobody really wants to see a common, off-key idiot sing songs you've heard way to many times as a professional recording.

3.) Improv

As Saturday Night Live and Mad TV prove, it's often rough to get funny stuff for a sketch when it's actually pre-written, brainstormed and edited. Improv is nothing more than a freak show-you lower your standards of laughter to see how fast somebody can think half-as-funny as a well-written piece. I now, I'm a Chicagoan and a Chicago-lover so I'm not supposed to think like this but... Kill improv. Please.

4.) Laugh tracks

This needs no explanation.

5.) The Sitcom

Hey, if I can dream to the level of number 4, why not? Can anybody stand them anymore? Really?

6.) The Hollywood System

Okay, so now I'm really dreaming, but perhaps I'll dream smaller with...

7.) Re-makes

Of anything. Stories that worked best as cartoons into horrible movies, TV shows into movies or new TV shows, plays into movies, movies into TV shows. Songs. Sequels. Stop it. Stop it now.

8.) Divas

Not the term "diva," as I've seen other lists suggest, but divas in general. We now know that with current technology, anybody can have a "quality" sounding voice in the studio. So write good music or shut-up. We don't want your albums.

I reserve the right to add more to this list. Send along your own. I know this should be a lot bigger.


Daily Limerick 1/6/2001:

A man and his dog are quite chummy

but make no mistake—don’t be a dummy.

Whether it’s a dog

or he has a log

in the morning, rub it’s tummy!


Daily Limerick 1/7/2001:

There once was a lady named Rosa

of tube steak, she took quite a dose-a!

Why her kitchen table

was quite the stud stable

(in fact, the tube steak Ponderosa).


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 1/6-1/7/2001

We all have our favorite pet phrases for masturbating, right? And we all love to throw them out casually at cocktail parties, right? And we all have them tattooed across our...


But you know 'em, you love 'em. Chokin' the chicken. Slammin' the ham. Jerkin' the gherkin. Burpin' the worm. Playin' the skin flute. Shinin' the shilelagh (too lazy to look up the proper spelling for that word). Cleanin' the cartridge. Greasin' the pole. Boppin' the bologna. Pumpin' the stump. Firin' off the ol' One Gun Salute. Shakin' the snake. Pullin' a Pee Wee. Yankin' the taffy. Pettin' the python. Rubbin' the magic lamp. Scrubbin' the chubby. Reelin' in the eel. Bludgeoning the bishop. Slappin' the sausage. Ropin' the pony.

And I never did quite understand "Spankin' the monkey."

They say the eskimos have, well, a bunch of words for snow (I forget how many and I'm not looking it up) and that's because snow is an important part of their world. So considering we have so many phrases for, well, you know, does that mean... I bet the French have more.

But anyway, for the longest time I thought a good masturbation term could be found through the carnival/arcade game "Whack a Mole." But it seems that the phrase by itself was lacking something. (Some people while away the time thinking of solutions for world piece-I feel we need more terms for wallopin' the weasel.)

But it came to me in a bright light of inspiration today: Playin' LIVE ACTION Whack a Mole.

I hope you share my elation.


Daily Limerick 1/8/2001:

A fellow with quite a large poker

was never blown—and that’s no joker!

When he took a wife

she blew him, with strife

(and for her work, she got a choker).



Happy Elvis' Birthday! He would be 69 today, and probably either a) so ridiculously fat and drugged-up that they might re-form the Mamas and Papas and include him or b) he would've gotten healthy and all annoying, probably getting extra serious with the religious crap, too. Probably option (b), considering that if he continued on his later trend, he wouldn't have made it to 69.

What godawful '80s songs do you think he'd have covered? Ooops, sorry for the redundancy there-"godawful" and "'80s songs" go together like "scandal ridden" and "political career." Do you think E would've covered stuff like "I Can Feel it Comin' in the Air Tonight" and "Say You, Say Me" or would he be more on the order of "Crazy Train" and "We're Not Gonna Take It"? Would he have subjected his music to the leather-hat-wearing likes of Run DMC? Would he duet with Dolly Parton or Jennifer Warren?

Personally, I'm a bigger fan of the fat, drugged-up Elvis. I know the women in the beehive hairdos who love the early Elvis refuse to admit that he ever hit that stage, but that's the Elvis I know and love. Elvis was, after all, the very first Elvis impersonator. Don't believe it-rent a copy of "Elvis Aloha From Hawaii."

Well, anyway. Do something to celebrate Elvis' birthday. Wear a rhinestone suit, eat a peanut butter and banana sandwich or perhaps just drop some demerol.


Daily Limerick 1/9/2001:

The sex drops off after the wedding

but don’t you grooms-to-be go fretting.

For though your new bride

may less often ride

less often must you clean the bedding.



The "People's Choice" awards. Does anybody think these are REALLY decided by the people overall?

No, this sorely needed awards show-c'mon, there's only about one for every day of the year now-actually, in a democratic way, awards the poor Entertainment Industry according to the whims of people who:

a) actually give a damn about awards shows and b) have or make the free time to vote for something of such importance as giving Hollywood more awards.

Let's rename these "The Knuckleheads' Choice Awards."


Daily Limerick 1/10/2001:

There once was a fellow named Reggie

who was nervous, nerdy—on edge-y.

High school came along

and he wore a thong

(so he already had the wedgie).



As part of our continuing investigation into evil entities threatening the American way of life:

Love is...

Once again, has committed a horrible crime. Yesterday's comic actually encouraged roller blading. If you'll recall, Slappin' and Yappin' reported within the last few month's "Love is..."'s endorsement of karaoke...

Lock up your women and children. Or at least send the women c/o Slappin' and Yappin'. We'll keep 'em safe.


Daily Limerick 1/11/2001:

A small-penised fellow named Surken

once whipped his schlong out for the jerkin’

and fell in a vat

of vinegar—splat!—

and his cock was much like a gherkin.



I saw a bit of that "Temptation Island" show tonight. Only because somebody else in this house of plenty was watching it.

Let me get this straight. They call this "Reality TV." I guess Hollywood is missing out on the fact that, once you throw a camera into the equation and everybody knows about it, "Reality" goes out the window. Which, of course, is why the only decent show to come out of "Reality" programming (before it was called that) was Candid Camera, because the people didn't know they were being filmed and it thus didn't attract a bunch of boneheaded, egotistical yo-yos.

"Temptation Island" offers further evidence that the typical room full of Hollywood producers collectively has barely the IQ of an turnip because, well... ASSUMING that any of these couples are in real relationships, who the hell would cheat on their significant other KNOWING FULL WELL THEIR EVERY MOVE WAS ON CAMERA! (I heard today that some former Fox worker quit and blabbed that nobody, in fact, cheats.)

Anybody could figure that out except, of course, a Hollywood executive. How many Hollywood Executives does it take to change a light bulb? (I don't have a joke for that-yet. But if you do, send it along and win a prize or something.)

Ah, but these are the types of brilliant minds that brought you Big Brother. Put a bunch of annoying people in a house, no tropical island angle, no agenda other than watching TV and holding lame conversations... And then wonder why it wasn't a ratings machine.


Daily Limerick 1/12/2001:

A porn star whom many called scum

reached a higher plane on some rum--

one of Dr. Seuss

while mounting caboose

and woke up to Green Eggs and Hum.



There will be no Slappin' and Yappin' today.


Daily Limerick 1/13/2001:

A man who did live porno feeds

re-worked his biz, to fit his need

called it a religion

and changed things a smidgeon

(like new anal rosary beads).


Daily Limerick 1/14/2001:

A man called the colonic rapper

would rhyme after hitting the tapper

he’d eat something cheezy

or, at the least, greasy

and write his best stuff on the crapper.


Daily Limerick 1/15/2001:

There once was a young boy named Gary

and many thought he’d never marry.

Played doctor with Keith

knocked out his own teeth

in hopes of meeting the tooth fairy.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 1/13-1/15/01

The Daily Limerick will be finally moving into an actual office of its own. That is, I will no longer be crashing with relatives and enjoying some of the features of prison life.

In honor of this... er, historic event, a rather lame edition of Slappin' and Yappin'.

I saw a billboard the other day for the Jamie Foxx show and noticed that the picture of Jamie has his jaw dropped, mouth wide open.

And then I recalled that in my younger days, all the heavy metal guys had one band member with the ol' open mouthed pose in most pictures.

It's the key to wackiness in modern day America, that open mouthed pose.

Told you this edition was lame.


Daily Limerick 1/16/2001:

A guy named Jed thought he’d a chance

with a nubile stripper from France.

She took all his money

and gave him no honey

and again, the same thong and dance.




You'll notice my "Hooray" is lacking a hip. Maybe it needs a hip replacement. In fact, it does-because my "Hooray" comes with a footnote.

I myself (Head Limericist) have finally moved into my own place in Chicago, but the office is set to move soon. So I'm sending this from the temporary office. Tomorrow, when I put my desk together and most of the bad fumes from lighting the microwave on fire accidentally have cleared, I expect to be fully moved in.

So, for today, here's something for the Zen "subscribers" out there to think about:

What is the sound of one hand Slappin' and Yappin'?


Daily Limerick 1/17/2001:

There once was a fellow named Nick

his whole life, lusted for one chick.

One night they got wasted

her cooch he’d have tasted

if it weren’t for his whiskey dick.



Well, here we are in the new "office" of Daily Limerick. Of course, in a new home, there's a problem locating the phone lines and I have a line barely stretched all the way from the kitchen into the office area so...

Needless to say, we're having technical difficulties at Slappin' and Yappin' right now.

I'm sure you've all been barraging me with your jokes and other related knuckleheadism but, suffice it to say, we're that much closer to being back to abnormal.

Ask not what Slappin' and Yappin' can do for you. Ask what you can do for Slappin' and Yappin'.


Daily Limerick 1/18/2001:

There once was a man from Kentucky

mail ordered a bride—and got lucky.

Her English was lacking

so she gave up yacking

but she understood “sucky sucky.”



Okay. Whew! The Daily Limerick office is semi-fully moved in. Meaning that the computer and phone jack and all that crap is working, although we're still surrounded by boxes.

Now we're concentrating on membership. Previously, we offered a free, personalized limerick for everybody who referred somebody to the Daily Limerick service. This rousing success netted exactly... Zero new members! Any ideas would be appreciated.

Anyway, seeing that I've become a pessimist as I've grown older-how can a society that actually buys Old Navy after viewing those godawful Old Navy commercials-a society that keeps Suddenly Susan on the air longer than the 2 episodes it MAY have deserved-I've noted a few signs of hope for humanity recently:

The AFC/NFC playoff games brought in fairly low ratings. Just like the last two Olympics hit record low viewerships. Perhaps we've had enough of the over marketing! Of the alleged "Blue Collar" activity of watching sports being too expensive for the average family to attend a live game more than once a year. Of the Motorola advertising on helmets; the likes of naseating tie-ins like "Tostitos Fiesta Bowl"...

Motorola was forced to close its only U.S. plant. Now, don't get me wrong, this is very bad news for the people losing jobs off of this. But look on the bright side-cell phone sales are dropping!

The year 2000 turned out to be horrible for the box office. Maybe we're finally getting sick of the artistic crap Hollywood keeps taking on movie screen across the country!

Okay, enough of being bitter for the evening. Tomorrow... Bittersweet!


Daily Limerick 1/19/2001:

There once was a lady named Bubbles

who dated two guys, causing troubles.

Both were tennis players

and each tried to lay her

at once—and she said, “Let’s play doubles!”



So, today's Edgar Allan Poe's birthday. And for those of you wondering-yes, he's dead. But I'm still not sure about Abe Vigoda.

Still, I'm figuring you'll see or hear something about 'ol Edgar today. I'm a fan myself, but regret to say that I forgot to trumpet Bob Bell's birthday yesterday.

Who's Bob Bell, you ask? Well, he was the first Bozo. I don't think everybody across country grew up on Bozo but... Well, screw you. I'm celebrating Bozo anyway.

Oh, and I'm not sure if Bob Bell is alive or not. I think he's dead. If your not, Bob, I'm very, very sorry.

My very first hero was Bozo. The very first thing I "wanted to be when I grew up" was the New Bozo. Now, I'm taking my family's word for this, as it was so very long ago that I don't remember it.

My first hero: A clown. My first life's goal: To be a clown.

Many would say I've succeeded. Although I don't wear the extra big shoes or the funny red nose.

This perhaps says a lot about me. Kinda like the fact that I grew up sleeping with a stuffed animal Eeyore. Other kids grew up sleeping with Teddy Bears; I slept with a jackass.


Daily Limerick 1/20/2001:

There once was a fellow named Davy

who worked as a chef in the Navy.

He went on a leave

and got him some beave—

the one time he made decent gravy!



I recently received an e-mail from a Daily Limerick "subscriber" saying good things about DL and Slappin' and Yappin'. Imagine that.

And it got me to thinkin'... What is Daily Limerick lacking? Other than regular structure, unforced rhymes and quality? Well, "Letters to the Idiot," of course!

So from now on, any mail directed to Daily Limerick (or sent as a reply to a day's Daily Limerick) is subject to being in the Letters to the Idiot section. What a way to communicate with the fellow Daily Limerick subscribers! What a way to frighten you back into doing something more with your life!

If you want to communicate personally with the Head Limericist, just send an e-mail to my e-mail address!

By the way, someone at the office (probably my wife, as nobody else is here) has fallen asleep with the TV on and a Roseanne rerun is on. Now, Roseanne was a decent show, but it gets me to wondering: Did that show start the trend toward portraying sitcom people as fallible? Because now it's JUST NOT FUNNY ANYMORE! EVERY SITCOM jokes about how families are "dysfunctional" and how couples aren't perfect and Leave it to Beaver like!

So maybe we need to return to couples sleeping in separate beds. Just like maybe we need to return to musicians playing in tuxedos. It ain't shockin' me anymore.

Maybe this line of reasoning is every bit as ridiculous as it seems to me now, but perhaps not. Nonetheless, something must be done!


Daily Limerick 1/21/2001:

A fellow named Clem de LaRem

had a girl who was a fine gem

she’d deep-throat his pickle

and swallow the trickle

and call it the crem de la Clem.



Ahh, so Jesse Jackson was caught fatherin' a shorty in an illegitimate matter. Terrible, sensational, and all that, but what I worry about is Operation PUSS.

Oops! I mean Operation PUSH. It seems Operation PUSS was thriving.


Daily Limerick 1/22/2001:

I once met a girl in a bar

who likened herself to a car.

She’d meet someone classy

it’d lube up her chassy

and each headlight lit like a star!



I was offended today. Deeply offended.

So I had to work myself up into getting offended. It wasn't as if the incident happened and "Walla!" I was offended. No, but as I thought about it, I became offended.

Other people get offended. They get offended over language and sexual content on TV or radio shows. About books. About everything imaginable. And they're usually a very small minority-they just happen to be loud mouths. So I figure that it's time that the rest of us started getting offended.

I was offended in a furniture store over this woman's playing of religious music. But I had to work myself especially into a furor to be offended over religious music. There is some fine gospel out there. Elvis, especially, had some fine gospel hits. And I like a lot of Christmas music, which is often religious.

But this was not only religious, but BAD music. I was deeply offended.

I haven't taken any action on this matter. Perhaps I can get the woman banned from Wal-Mart (that seems to be where the disgruntled generally take their case).

Once, in the past, for a college newspaper column, I called a Jewel foodstore to complain about their music. It was musak and the manager I spoke with didn't know what to do about it. He said he was sorry, and didn't give any good quotes or anything. But I amused myself writing the column anyway.

In any event, it's time for us all to start getting offended and raising a ruckus! Over crummy boy bands, and bad sitcoms and religious nuts in our daily lives!

Go out and get offended!



>(NOTE: As a new feature, there's not much to it now, and you

>can't expect it daily, but here's one dumb one:)

>Hey, John. Are you sure you need a Letters to the Idiot

>section (or whatever)? You're doing so fine yourself! j/k

>(and i'm one to talk)





Daily Limerick 1/23/2001:

There once was a lady named Jane

who went to the dentist for pain.

And in Doc Nova’s chair

stripped to her underwear

(for he first gave her his Nova-cane).



It finally struck me today that 99.9% of the economy is driven by women.

Not the CEO's and executives and all, of course. Oh no. Those are all white guys with white hair and squarish glasses with maniacal grins. Look at any business page photo accompanying a merger story-trust me, they could get away with running the same one every time.

I'm talking about items bought and sold. With the exception of beer, food, cars and porn, women buy EVERYTHING.

I've never bought a piece of furniture in my life. Well, perhaps from a thrift store-but never an actual new piece. It never struck me as sensible to shell out hundreds of dollars for something that does the same job as a milk crate with a pillow on top.

Likewise, I've never bought clothes. Okay, I've bought a concert T-shirt or two in my younger days, a tie that I found humorous once or twice but, otherwise, I let the women in my life buy me stuff. For most of my life, which was women-less, I waited for holidays to receive clothes from my mom, grandma, etc. If they were ugly, dopey clothes, oh well... I'd settle on looking dopey for a year.

Okay, so I buy after shave and deodorant and stuff but, if women didn't at least exist, I wouldn't bother. I'd never get a haircut or shave. Hell, I might not even shower-okay, I'd shower, but I wouldn't waste money on soap. Hot water does wake you up, though.

Well, I'd like to have a convenient closer to this cheesy rant, but I don't. So long live the Jester!

By the way, Happy B-Day to Lord Byron! Yesterday. Happy B-Day to John Hancock today! Celebrate by giving somebody your autograph! Make it a complete stranger-and let us know your results!


Daily Limerick 1/24/2001:

A transvestite man in a meadow

with his girl, after Amaretto

had a fight, thanks to booze

she said, “walk in my shoes!”

and he gladly then donned her stiletto.



Have you ever seen the show "Unhappily Ever After"? Not only does it try to rip off the premise behind "Married... With Children," but it tries to rip off Alf with a talking stuffed animal dog. It's a godawful show-as opposed to most lame sitcoms, it doesn't even appear to try.

And yet... It's wonderful. The women on that show, usually scantily clad. How can that one guy live "unhappily"? I'd be plenty happy with that woman, just taking her and...

Whoah! I'm bordering on a Howard Stern impression here.

It's a sick, sick thing, I tell you. Perhaps this only happens when you're married or live with a woman-this second-hand porn. You watch stuff that can't be labeled as PURE porn, just because there's still some smidgeon of a portion of a percent of a chance that you might not be watching it as... well, second-hand porn, but...

All I have to say is Hubala-bubala-boomski! Or perhaps it had something to do with not having my contacts in. I'm gonna watch another God-awful episode tonight and see.

It reminds me of one time at college (on my first, early, failed attempt) where a religious experience ensued while watching a Bangles video. By the way, the Bangles, one by one, aren't so hot, but they're hot collectively. In other words, I'm not so hot about any particular Bangle, but gimme the Bangles altogether and... Well, hubala-bubala-boomski.

The Bangles became 3-D, floating around the room, larger than life... The tequila and marijuana probably contributed, I'll give you that. But for a couple minutes, I found religion. In a Pagan sort of way.


Daily Limerick 1/25/2001:

A bartender by occupation

worked a strip club, watching gyration.

Trailed his hand to his dink

and mixed up a new drink

which he titled his “Master-(li)bation.”



First of all, last night I watched a bit of "Unhappily Ever After" and concluded that my virtual reality lusting was partially in vain. The one woman I had previsously thought, sans optical enhancement, was especially pulchritudinous was, well, not so pulchritudinous above the neck.

Now, before we proceed further, for anybody who might deem that thinking sexist, well... Just what am I supposed to focus on watching "Unhappily Ever After"? The woman's beautiful dialogue? The subtle angst and alleghorical references?

It did drive home a painful point, though: Had I spent more of my single life without wearing my contacts, I would've been a much luckier guy. Hey, beauty is in the eye of the beholder-and if the beholder can't see so well, beauty thrives all the more.

Doesn't that bring a tear to your eye?


Daily Limerick 1/26/2001:

There once was a fella from France

who, at a strip club, took a chance—

offered a cash treat

to visit his suite

and got a much finer pole dance.



I did a suburban comedy club last night and, well, comedy is in real trouble.

Oh, I'm sure that comes as nothing new to you. But I think somebody ought to make some money marketing the sad fact, and maybe something like a Field Guide would stimulate interest, too.

You know how they do field guides for bird watchers? Well, we could make them for comedian watchers! With such species as the "Lusty Busty Girl," with jokes like ". . . Everyone in my high school thought I spent all my Saturday nights in the back seats of cars. Which was unfair - some cars, like pickup trucks, don't have back seats." Or the African-American guy, "Uncle Tom Foolery," who's schtick goes like  ". . . I was talkin' to this white guy the other day - you know, the kinda guy who thinks all black guys are criminals or somethin'. He was all suspicious of me and stuff, watchin' my every move, actin' all stiff. I hate that, you know, 'cause it's so tough to pick-pocket guys like that."

Oh, there are a few more species. But that's all I wanna get into now.



Squirrel Boy checks in with: (refering to my "second hand porn" rantings about, er, well, that "Unhappily Ever After" disaster)...

>It's people like you who give a show like that ratings! (by

>the way, watch Temptation Island if you really want to laugh

>and lust, and be ashamed)


I'll take responsibility. Except now it's in late-night re-runs, so I don't think I can save it. YOU, however, are giving the thumbs up to Candid Camera's mentally challenged cousin.


Daily Limerick 1/27/2001:

An actress with giant ear lobes

met a plastic surgeon named Jobes

he failed with her ears

but now her career’s

took off when she “won” Golden Globes.



Has anybody here... seen my old friend Joe... Can you tell me where he's gone?...

For some reason, today I'm feeling nostalgic. I'm going back to a time I never really lived in. Going back to the '80s, when the '60s were retro, and that's pretty much all we listened to.

We have to stop this. We have to stop this "20-years-and-its-retro" Marketing Machine NOW! We cannot permit the '80s to become hip! I went to high school in the '80s. I had a remarkable failure at college in the '80s, and I STILL DON'T WANT TO SEE THEM BACK! I know I'm supposed to be all happy, singin' "Talkin' 'bout my Generation" and stuff but... All me and my friends did back in the '80s was sit around saying, "Man, why did we have to be teenagers NOW? Couldn't we grow up in the '60s, or even the Middle Ages-they had more character than the '80s!"

But NOOOooo. They have to bring the '80s back! Do you know why the happen to bring retro trends around every 20 years? Because their primary targers (high school and college students) don't remember the reality of 20 years in the past! I don't remember the '60s! But when I returned to college in the '90s, I DID remember the '70s.There were guys-white guys, I tell you-bringing disco compact discs up to our college newspaper office! When I was a kid, all I remember about disco were all the "Disco Sucks" T-shirts! It's just easier to throw up a glow ball and have a disco night at a club than face reality. How in the hell could you have a Thin Lizzy/Nazareth night in a club? Put a keg in the middle of the floor and pass around a bowl for the puking that would follow?

The '80s have nothing worth revisiting! At least with '50s retro, you could revisit the birth of Rock and Roll! With the '60s, you could revisit the Sexual Revolution! With the early'70s, you still had the Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll thing going, and the Civil Rights movements, but...

What the hell did the '80s bring us? The only lasting '80s legacy I can think of is big hair! Now , they have built-in blow-dryers in hotels! Evangelist women have the '80s big hair style! That's it! That's all the '80s left us with!

Please, have mercy. Stop the '80s retro!


Daily Limerick 1/28/2001:

A hot model, etiquette coached

from infancy on was approached

to sell her young eggs—

one look at her legs

though and her fine eggs were soon poached.



Am I unaware of some obscure law that states the weekly newspapers in large cities have to be SO RIDICULOUSLY "LIBERAL" THAT THEY MAKE YOU NASEAOUS?

Don't get me wrong, here. I generally consider myself liberal, but liberal in an old school way, I guess, before it was somehow liberal to reward TV shows for using scripts with anti-drug messages and liberal to try to crack down on internet "obscenity."

But, anyway, I won't get into that here. But I thought perhaps this was a problem on with L.A. Weekly (which, ironically, I read when I was in L.A.). Once I returned to Chicago, I found the same thing going on with the Chicago Reader. Again, I consider myself mostly liberal, but sometimes I read these weeklies and I want to join the NRA, befriend Rush Limbaugh, and fire-bomb an abortion clinic-only to commit a "mean" act against these snivelin', beyond partisan whiners.

You know, I'm a little scared of Dubya myself. I'm kinda dreading some of the shit that will probably go down in the next four years. But, weekly people, remember that we have had Republican presidents in the past and THE COUNTRY DID NOT CRUMBLE. Regrettable things happened, sure, but we still have the framework of the Constitution intact and all that crap and anything done can be undone in the future, too.

So quit acting like we've switched to the Iraqi model of government, crybabies. Bush won, so deal with it. Nothing was stolen and the election was so close, due to matching levels of boneheadedness, that either candidate would be disrespected for not winning by even a miniature landslide.

Well, I'm off to shoot a spotted owl.


Daily Limerick 1/29/2001:

A man with the brains of a bucket

had a cock so large he could suck it.

That feat was not small

but strangest of all

this fellow was not from Nantucket.



So there's a Limerick Contest in the Chicago Sun-Times, and nobody consulted me.

Actually, it's a multi-category poetry contest and "Limerick" is one of the categories. They say the content is "open" (meaning it doesn't have to be G-rated) but I'm a little suspicious. It does, however, have to related to Chicago.

I don't know if I've ever written a limerick specifically about Chicago. If you recall one, let me know. I may have to look through them. When you crank 'em out, like the hack that I am, you forget what the hell you've done with them in the past.

Also, any ideas on what to play up about Chicago would be appreciated, too.

I can't believe nobody consulted me! Shouldn't I be a major celebrity in the World of Limerick? Why isn't there a Nobel Prize for Limerick?


Daily Limerick 1/30/2001:

A shoe-fetish’d chap with Dutch roots

found winter brought out his fave beauts.

Many call the boots “go go”

but to him that’s a no-no

for his cock knows them as “grow grow boots.”



I've had enough of the term "Rocker."

News outlets use it to refer to... well, anybody who performs or has performed music other than country, jazz or gospel and is younger than 70 years old.

Just the other night I heard a reference to "Rocker Rick Springfield." I've also heard "Rocker Phil Collins" and "Rocker Howard Jones" and "Rocker Corey Hart" and it just goes on and on and on...

When I think of Rockin', I think of Lawrence Welk before most of the names that earn the "Rocker" tag.

So please, fellow journalists, retire the term.

Oh, and I don't know if I can share my Chicago Sun-Times possible contest limericks with you! Hey-I hear that collective sigh of relief! I mean, the contest forbids poetry published IN ANY FORM! Is this a publication or merely a sham! Inquiring minds want to know!

Live long and Phospher (esce). Or something.


Daily Limerick 1/31/2001:

There once was a fellow named Kato

the kinkiest guy in Laredo.

Was one of those dudes

attracted to food

had bacon fetish and tomato.



The Ravens won the Super Bowl on the eve of the anniversarry of "The Raven's" publication.

But that's not what's bothering me.

What's bothering me, in the pre- during- and post- Super Bowl hype, is this slew of people who watch the Super Bowl FOR THE COMMERICIALS.

For the commercials, I say.

For the commercials.

No matter how much I say (write) that, it doesn't make the terrifying truth go away, however.

People are obviously missing the point. You channel surf during commericals. You grab a sandwich or a beer or whatever. Commericals = bad. Programming = good. (Well, programming is THEORETICALLY good, anyway.)

It's all further evidence that we're over-dosing on capitalism. Now, I'm not communist or anything but we shouldn't be tuning into ANYTHING to see and ad unless we appeared in the commercial in question! We've got a GAP at Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco! That should've remained some bad comic's joke back in the '70s: "What're they gonna do next? Put a GAP at Haight-Ashbury?"

We're living a joke! But admitting the problem is the first step! We need to arrange an intervention with the entire nation present to let it know that WE HAVE A SERIOUS CAPITALISM PROBLEM!








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!


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