Daily Limerick
Archives: June 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)!


Here’s a sample of the Daily Limerick FREE e-mail newsletter! (Now in it’s second year of “service”!)

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 and realize YOU WILL NOT BE ADDED TO THIS LIST UNLESS YOU SPECIFICALLY ASK TO BE—THIS IS MERELY A SAMPLE!

You’ll find a sample limerick below as well as “Slappin’ and Yappin’,” our commentary section, of sorts, on our nutty, copiously-corporate-sponsored world! There’s also our new “Letters to the Idiot” section! 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 who’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!

Should you not desire a succulent limerick and tender dose of Slappin’ and Yappin’ delivered to your e-mail box rain or shine (occasionally late, but much more reliable than the Post Office, although that’s not saying much) you can simply DO NOTHING. That’s right—unless you reply and simply ask for it, you won’t receive more! (Although the DAILY LIMERICK is organized a bit like the Post Office, so you may accidentally receive more than one of these sample queries.)

Sign-up today! Be the first on your block to have the DAILY LIMERICK!


Daily Limerick 6/1/2001:

An old man who’s sex skills had rusted

had whores climb on top when he lusted.

One blackened the man’s

eyes with swingin’ cans

(could say that the fella was “busted”).



Okay: Are you folks all aware of the horrible story of Eric Morse? It made national news. He was a kid living in a housing project in Chicago, and two other kids went with him into an abandoned apartment, tortune him, then hung him by his ankles for a long time from the balcony, and then dropped him to his death.

Good clean fun. Boys will be boys. I personally collected baseball cards but, hey, you know.

So years later, the family of the boy is suing the Chicago Housing Authority on many counts, one being for the fact that they didn’t keep the abandoned apartment locked.

Because, naturally, you see an unlocked, abandoned apartment, and the first thing that comes to mind is, “Let’s torture and kill someone.”


Daily Limerick 6/2/2001:

The groupies of DJ McKinnon

kept his morning zoo full of grinnin’.

Used many a Trojan

and thus his show’s slogan:

“Where the Sinnin’ is Just Beginnin’.”



Do people really say, “Who’s your daddy?” during sex?

If so, consideration of this phenomenon is quite scary.

I wanted to be hip to the jive, so to speak, concerning sexual trends at one point, so I planned to use the phrase. But I screwed up.

And, damnit, I was nearing the point of no return when I yelled “Who’s your uncle?” and she ran from my apartment.


Daily Limerick 6/3/2001:

Word has it that poor ol’ Ralph Nader

after his campaign did the fade-r.

Took into his bed

Ms. Potato-Head

and thus became a Master-Tater.



Further updates on the Pussification of America:

As you all should know, life imitates art which originally was exagerrating how pathetic we all are.

MAD Magazine occasionally runs an update sort of thing, relating events that originally began as comedic, exagerratiion jokes and actually came true. Ala an issue I have from the ’70s which had a “Scene We’re Afraid We’ll Someday See” showing water being delivered to people in bottles like milk used to be.

It was a joke. Like, “We’re so ludicrous, if we don’t watch it, people will actually buy water in bottles when they’re already paying for the water service out of the tap at home.”

Again, it was a joke. But now people are buying water. The greatest marketing scheme of all time. Much like selling sand in a desert.

Recently, The Onion has proved itself as a worthy chronicle of our times by now accidentally predicting the future through making fun of us all. It carred a column with a woman’s “harrowing” tale of recovery from coffee addiction.

Today’s Chicago Tribune carries such a column by Mary Schmich. Only it’s not a joke. Well, it is, but she (and the editors) somehow missed the punchline.

We’re a pussified nation of numbskulls drinking less, smoking less, and now talking about stuff like coffee and good old fashioned meat and potatoes in the same way we once referred to heroin and freebasing.

But, of course, we need to take SOMETHING. So we cast aside the old favorites and instead gulp St. John’s Wort and Prozac and Claritin and a million other things because we just don’t feel right. But, hey, at least the martini lunches brought a buzz.

So we’re living longer but not enjoying those extra years one bit. At least all the alcohol and smoking was fun and it took our minds off the fact that we’re pathetic creatures at heart.


I can just hear the lawyers marching forth, ready to file suit against those evil coffee companies for addicting legions of people, ready to sue for the teeth whitening procedures, the Starbucks habits...


Daily Limerick 6/4/2001:

At a party once, ’twas a floozy

who summoned me to the jacuzzi.

We banged out her troubles,

her ass filled with bubbles

and, whoaa! Did she fart out a doozy!



I am afraid of Bennigan’s.


Daily Limerick 6/5/2001:

A lonely high strung lumberjack

one day found his team catching flack

from hippie protests--

chicks bearin’ their breasts--

so he broke for a lumber whack.



Can somebody be a “Flaming Heterosexual”? I’m just wondering. I mean, according to modern lore, there are evidently “levels” of gaity. That is, somebody can be REALLY GAY, a woman can be a BIG LESBIAN, but you don’t hear a man or woman described like, “Man, he’s REALLY straight.” Or, “She’s a BIG heterosexual, I tell ya’.”

What would a flaming hetero do? Break into an impulsive football play-by-play at a party instead of a showtune?

However, my friends, I do see where some of the silliness comes from in a fellow who works where I temp. A new hire. He’s, well, as they say, REALLY GAY. I analyzed why he came across as really gay and discovered that, well, he’s actually somewhat flirtatious toward guys--not in an overly cloying way, but more like a waitress in a diner who calls you “honey.” And he gets away with it.

So I guess if you’re old and/or gay, you can get away with such things. (Although I don’t know about lesbians.) For instance, it would be like me putting on a deep voice and saying, “Hey... What cha’ got there? Hmm... Yes, I see... Rrroow!” to all the ladies at work. Well, without the “RROOWW!” but with the bedroom voice.

I don’t know if this last part’s making any sense, so I’ll stop with it.

Of course, I’m not rambling toward the purpose of declaring that “Flaming” folks shouldn’t be allowed to... er, “flame” at work but... I do think I’d get fired for the bedroom voice. Just an observation. Small consolation for the other crap you put up with for being gay.



In reply to my assertion that I’m afraid of Bennigan’s:


>-What's yr favorite Entemann's?


I am not afraid of Entemann’s. Oddly enough, though, my wife’s step father works for Entemann’s and gets us free snacks. I like the apple fritters, although I think they’re only normally sold in the south.

I could answer more fully, but I think I’ll just glaze over that question.



Daily Limerick 6/6/2001:

A sexu’lly charged Walter Mitty

would gaze at the girlies so pretty.

While his wife was shopping

his mind was bush-hopping

a’ filmin’: “The Tale of Two Titties.”



So I read a story today about ANOTHER study done of G-Rated movies and their protrayals of alcohol, tobacco and other naughty things. Because, Heaven knows, SOMETHING must be causing people to use such things, and will all know drinks don’t give you a warm buzz or anything like that so it must be those darn movies!

Especially where it concerns anything that can be deemed “kids’ stuff,” the “message” comes far before any sort of entertainment value. Which is why I pity the children of today, with all these cartoons that, let’s face it, don’t take advantage of the cartoon medium and are basically animated versions of shows that could’ve just as easily been filmed with actors. No frying pans, no falling off cliffs...

It seems to me that the generation growing up originally on Looney Toons DIDN’T shoot up their schools. But the generations who’ve grown up since this silly little “Oh My God! We can’t show THAT in a cartoon!” crap are the ones losing it.

Like the conservatives, I blame Hollywood. Except I’m not all riled about sex and violence.

I’m riled because there’s a big, steaming crap being taken on the entertainment map every single day by an industry that I won’t name. (But spelled backwards, it’s doowylloh.)

By the way: Tom Jones’ 61st Birthday today! Throw on your tight pants!



In reply to my punning on donuts, replying to a crack about Entemann’s, which replied to a crack about being afraid of Bennigan’s, I wrote yesterday:

I could answer more fully, but I think I’ll just glaze over that question.

A reply to that came in:


>Donut make me angry!

Use just need proper anger management. Winchell’s while you work.


Daily Limerick 6/7/2001:

A comely shopkeeper, Bes Riesen

would drive men quite mad with her teasin’.

Her relentless flirts

once brought just desserts

her shop’s sign read, “Hosed for the Season.”



I was thumbing through the Auto section of the newspaper and...

First, let me explain myself. I’m not looking for a car. I’d prefer to do without a car and actually have a thing (one of a million, in case you haven’t noticed) against the auto industry—but I MUST at least thumb through every section of the newspaper. If there’s an two-page spread on makeup, I at least read the caption. If there’s a comic I don’t like, I read it (I’ve tried to stage my own little boycotts before, but I keep accidentally reading such pap as “Rose as Rose” anyway). It’s part of my plan as a humor writer to keep up on a little of everything...

So anyway, there’s a story about SUVs. Now, I’m sure some of you have them but, well, if you haven’t unsubscribed to this at this point, I guess you don’t mind getting offended now and then.

But the article (I read a bit of it) was explaining how we NEED all the space in these damn gas-guzzling tanks when we have kids! My mother had a volkswagen squareback. Not quite the size of a station wagon. She had two kids she carted around. Sometimes a few of our friends. Along with all our gear.

So is there a new trend toward turn-of-the-century-sized families I haven’t read about? We “need” this space because Baby-Huey-sized children are being born? Are we putting up basketball hoops in the backs of these things as part of our continuing effort to avoid actually interacting with children when the built-in VCR is busted?



More donut puns are rolling in:


>-You're krueller than cruel! :P Oh, and good luck on your limerick battle,

>Elvis. Does this guy realize who he's dealing with?

I’ll keep you abreast of the limerick battle results.

I’ll either be sad or in a jelly mood.



:P :P :p :P


Daily Limerick 6/8/2001:

In Deutschland, tourist Babs LaRouche

awoke with a smelly-ass cootch

said her lover Herman

but she knew no German

so asked someone, “Sprechense Douche?”



Do you know that the letters of “Sloop” can also spell Slop, loop, pools and spool?


Daily Limerick 6/9/2001:

There once was a man from Modesto

ate four pounds of spinach and: Presto!

Took home two fat sluts

who licked up his nuts

and he shot his own homemade pesto.



I’m no Mr. T.

Oh, since I filled you in on my “Limerick Challenge” the other night I oughta let you know the results: I won.

But I’m only able to be a total ham-bone in writing. I intended to wear my Elvis cape, and I even brought a disk to ham it up to “See See Rider” as I took the stage but... It didn’t feel right. Okay, so I sheepishly mummbled “I pity the fool!” once into the mike but... I was respectful of this guy who challenged me—even told him, “Hey—these are some of the best of nearly two years of limericizing!” to make him feel better but...

He heard me doin’ limericks, figured, “Hey! Anybody can do that!” and he wrote some... Well, some were actually pretty funny, but he underestimated how difficult it can be. He’s a very funny comedian, this Pete Lipsey, but limericism is an ancient art requiring mind over body... Or hands on the body, or something. I studied with leprechauns in a cave for many years, living only on corned beef and cabbage...

I even thought up a little rhyme: “Fly like a Butterfly, Excite like Betty Boop, noone can beat, Muhammed Al-Sloop!”

But, I’m not a good total hambone in person.

But on paper, well.... I pity the fool! I pity the fool!



The puns continue:

>-Well, make sure you're funny this time. Remember at that celebrity roast,

>we kept hearing snoring? Finally, someone spotted the culprit and shouted

>"Tammy Faye Baker's dozen in the back!"



As Homer Simpson would say, if it were interupted by a rock falling on his foot: “This is getting... D’oh! Nut-ty.”

Actually, I’ve created a Monster. (Or as a cheese inventor gone wrong once said: “Oh my God! I’ve created a munster!”):

(My original comment was:)

>Do you know that the letters of ≥Sloop≤ can also spell Slop, loop, pools and


His cheesy reply:


>-You solop-sist!

Do you know what limerick groupies say when they’re stalking me in Aspen? “Let’s hit the Sloops!”

Ugh. I’m becoming a munster, too. But as long as it’s any one but Eddie, I’m okay.


Daily Limerick 6/10/2001:

Ev’ry geeky boy’s bathroom satyr

will grow after seeing “Tomb Raider”--

he’ll tug on his wee

o’er Angie Jolie

and wish that he were her “Womb Raider.”



Here’s what I’d like to see (as I always confuse the two, anyway):

Randy Quaid in every one of Dennis Quaid’s roles.


Daily Limerick 6/11/2001:

Conspiracy buffs took a roll

in the hay, and her smokin’ his pole

was thus named by Kit Boswell

doing things to his “Roswell”

and he threw it in her “Grassy Knoll.”



A couple interesting, real names for you:

Joel Dollarhyde: accountant

Matt Straw: farmer

Whit Cornman: Spokesman for the U.S. Grain Council

Gary Cowman: Spokesman for National Cattleman’s Beef Assn.





Daily Limerick 6/12/2001:

A woman whose bod made men froth

went to see a man of the cloth.

With all she confessed

of deeds while undressed

made him emit a milky broth.



We’re starting the countdown, ladies and gentlemen. Er, subscribers. (There. That’s more accurate.)

July 12, 2001 will mark the TWO YEAR ANNIVERSARY of the DAILY LIMERICK, and we’re pumpin’ (the excitement) like a 12-year-old who snuck into a strip club!

Please, no rioting or looting.

So the current countdown is at...


They said it couldn’t be done! (Actually, they said it really, really SHOULDN’T be done, but why quibble over semantics?)






IS AT 29 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/13/2001:

A Kentucky lesbo did totter

in persuasion--and a man caught her.

It filled him with mirth

and when she gave birth

they called the babe, “Hole Miner’s Daughter.”



The FDA is releasing new... Er, guidelines, I think? (I don’t think they’re LAWS exactly.) Anyway, they’re warning now of the dangers of... (Get ready to cringe in an embryonic ball at the very thought...)

EGGS SUNNY-SIDE UP! (Or, I suppose, over-easy.)

Oh boy. I guess there’s some 1 in 2,000 chance of getting some sort of Salmonella type deal they’ve discovered, and they’re trying to rid the world of that evil force, that destroyer of youth everywhere, the ally of Nazis and Klansmen and Bears -- Oh my! -- DIPPIN’ YOUR TOAST IN AN EGG YOLK!

Well, Entertainment Weekly will issue a “No Celebrity Ass-Kissin’” issue before I give up my eggs over-medium and/or -easy. In fact, that’s what I cooked up for myself tonight, as my form of non-hunger strike.

Okay, now I get my grandparents and other elderly folks decrying a world where “Nothing’s sacred.” I’m only in my early 30s and I’m already shaking my head at hearing, “Heart attack special?” when I have a few slices of bacon; or “The terror, the addiction!” over a goddamned cup of coffee; or “That Evil Bugs Bunny perpetrating stereotypes!”

Mark my word, we’ll have a “War on Laughter” during my lifetime. Fun In General, the last frontier to conquer for the Politically Correct.

Don’t believe it? Word is that laughter is good for you, you say? Word used to be that a nice plate of meat and potatoes was a “good meal,” too.



In a reply to my recent (6/9) comments, which approximated:

>He heard me doinπ limericks, figured, ≥Hey! Anybody can do that!≤... but he underestimated how difficult it can be. ...

>limericism is an ancient art requiring mind over body... Or hands on the

>body, or something. I studied with leprechauns in a cave for many years,

>living only on corned beef and cabbage...

Bushy tail writes:

>-Yah did us we laddies proud, sonny! I's good t' see yah be takin' no Lip.


If you were a Bugs Bunny cartoon, you’d never see the light of day again. Just Warner ya’.



IS AT 28 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/14/2001:

Do you know McKinnon and Dworkin?

(That porno, they always try Borkin’?)

Their “lib’ral” hearts bleed

but here’s what they need:

A four-star, grade A super porkin’.



Did you ever write graffiti?

I don’t mean the sweeping, air-brushed, artistic kinda stuff. Because, regardless of whether it’s gang-related or whatever, it’s still kinda purty, you have to admit.

Okay, have you at least ever written on the wall of a bathroom stall?

The whole writing on the bathroom wall thing is an interesting concept. It’s especially loser-ish today, when you can find a potentially much wider format for your postings of phone numbers “for a good time” or your poorly rhyming odes to taking a dump or your celebrations of bands and Cheryl what’sherface’s breasts--on a Web site.

But, must admit, during my younger days on the mean streets of rural McHenry County, Illinois, I was overcome by the temptation to write on a bathroom stall. It was somewhere around that, oh, 12-year-oldish time, when I thought about sex constantly. Not that I don’t now, but, well, you know how it is. At least if you’re a guy.

So anyway, shaking in terror, feeling as nervous as one would feel before bombing a building or something, I took my pencil--yes, I wasn’t even prepared enough to have a magic marker or Sharpie or anything--and I wrote, “Screw, man, Screw” on the stall wall.

I’m sure I indelibly influenced the world with that one.




Daily Limerick 6/15/2001:

I often wish that I’d been born

into a world that’s One Big Porn.

Wife’d never get jealous

(she’d crave beave like fellas)

I’d never need toot my own horn.



Here’s my attempt at one of those stupid jokes you thought were so funny as a kid, perhaps told to you by that uncle who always asked you to pull his finger:

A man lost everything. His wife left him, his house burnt down, his dog died--a regular country music song (at least before the “New Country” ruined it all, anyway). Everybody he encountered on the street bawled away at his fate. Everywhere he turned--people would see him and start weeping. He desperately sought somebody to just cheer him up, and all he ever got was tears.

At one point, he rounded the corner and saw his two best friends in the entire world, Archie and Christina. Their eyes started to well up and he sang out:

“Don’t cry for me Arch and Tina...”

Thank you. Try the veal.



In response to yesterday’s musings on graffiti comes Flying Rocky with:

>I'll admit, one time on the underpass of an already graffiti-ed bridge, I

>spraypainted "It is illegal to spraypaint this wall" in yellow. Oh, I

>thought I was so clever and ironic. :p

That was certainly... Clever. And “ironic,” as said by Alanis’ Morrisette (in what MAD Magazine dubbed the “Stupidest Lyric of All Time”), kind “like 10,000 spoons when all you need is a knife.”



IS AT 26 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/16/2001:

A naive young man once did go out

to a strip club and his dick did grow out

for he thought he’d be pleased

but he got so damn teased

that his left nut did suffer a blow out.



There’s a big story here in Chicago about this woman with post-partum depression who vanished and then all of a sudden appeared--but then promptly jumped off a ledge to her death.

I’m filling you in because I don’t know if it’s a nationwide story right now, and I kind of doubt it (what good is tragedy for TV news unless it’s handy to shove a mike into the aggrieved’s faces?).

Anyhow, post-partum depression, for those of you who don’t know, is depression that comes on soon after bearing a child.

Now, I don’t normally pay close attention to these tragedy stories. I guess in a lot of ways, I don’t fit the demographic. But a read a part of the follow-up story on this event and...

Well, people have been outraged that the people close to this lady didn’t notice how serious her mental state was. And I don’t know enough to go throwing blame around. Or at least I didn’t until...

I read that she named her recently born girl “Sommer Skye.” And no, neither her nor the father’s last name is Skye. Or perhaps “Skye” is the middle name but...

I maintain that if a woman names her newborn baby Sommer Skye, she should be sent to an institution for intense testing immediately. That’s all the “signs” that you need.

Of course, by this reasoning, one could easily conclude that half of the state of California should be tested in some institution. And so I guess, well, maybe...

I stand by my reasoning.



Secret Squirrel (perhaps with aid of Morroco Mole) writes in, rambling more about how he once spray-painted on a bridge: “It is Illegal to Spray Paint This Wall!”:

-Hmm ... I didn't really mean ironic when I said ironic, thus making it

ironic! Yeah, that's it.

It my own damn fault, you know, but now I have that song “Isn’t it Ironic” in my head, and in a mean way. I hope it is a song that will die off eventually in my head. Although I still have that country pop song “Swingin’” from the ’80s song in my head sometimes, and nobody else seems to remember the song.



IS AT 25 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/17/2001:

There once was a poor, struggling rapper

who bought his nymph girlfriend a Clapper.

She sings now because

she lives for applause

with it nestled deep in her snapper.



I read a coke can recently which trumpeted: “The Refreshment... The Possibilities... Share the Experience!”

My question is: What possibilities? What can you do with a coke other than drink it?



IS AT 24 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/18/2001:

There once was a fellow named Hetzel

whose sex drive did rev like an Edsel.

Played crazy leg games

after sex, his dames

had gams twisted up like a pretzel.



More fun with real names:

Recently found to be a serial rapist (the son of some Empire Head, I believe for a beauty company):

Andrew Luster.



IS AT 23 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/19/2001:

A vet whom most people thought nuts

opened up a home for gay mutts.

From morn until dark

they lisp through their barks

and munch upon Kibbles n’ Butts.



Oooh. That one was bad. I’ll admit it.

I think there are quite a few people out there who feel I only point out ludicrosities of life if they happen to advance my own “agenda.” For instance, I’m not fond of the Disney Corporation, so I’m more than willing to dwell on them getting busted for not properly washing the special, under-character-costume underwear (although they didn’t permit employees to take it home themselves to wash). Or I’m more than willing to ride “Love is...” for glorifying cell phone usage when I, personally, find cell phones one of the most reprehensible inventions of all time. (By the way, I read a “Letter to the Editor” in the Chicago Sun-Times where a guy wrote in to complain that all journalistic columnists happen to complain incessantly about cell phones—and the guy’s right. I don’t know why this is, but I fit the stereotype myself.)

But, although you may have gleaned through the months that I’m not a big fan of organized religion...

Get this: A book publisher is taking the “Christianity” out of C.S. Lewis’ “Narnia” series and re-releasing them (I didn’t take good notes when I read this, and am too lazy to look it up now, but I forget which of the three companies that control all our media now that it was). Yes, because of the success of “Harry Potter” (that’s it--forget about those original ideas, let’s recycle those of others), they want to release something similar, but Narnia seemed too... religious (see, it’s politically correct to respect every religion BUT Christianity), so they’re “de-Jesusifying” it, or something.

Man. Things are really becoming a Dark Science Fiction Novel these days.



Nutley checking in again with some comments on my comments about a marketing slogan on a coke can trumpeting “The possibilities” (of which I wondered what you could do with Coke besides drinking it):

>-Well, there's always the possibility of advanced tooth decay, right? We're

>all gunning for you.

Ahhh. Now that’s good times! We need more letters with teeth!



IS AT 22 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/20/2001:

There once was a fella named Fine

whom ladies found simply divine.

For with that thar man’d

play Jane and Tarzan:

you could act’lly swing on his vine.



On Dateline last night, they did a long, special report on how devices like cell phones often cause accidents.

Good to see that important investigative journalism is still alive and well.

They’ve joined that elite club now, along with Newsweek, of media you can count on. That is, if they tell you something is a hot new trend, you can bet it WAS a hot new trend a couple years ago.

They not only did studies to confirm this shocking phenomenon, but they also consulted “experts” to tell us all that driving 65 mph while dialing and yapping and floating across multiple lanes could actually be a dangerous activity. Who’d have thunk it?

My little newsmagazine’s new headline:

Journalism. What was it?



IS AT 21 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/21/2001:

A groupie quite pasty and pallid

would go nuts for a power ballad.

She’d dish out a hummmer

for singer, through drummer,

and even would toss each guy’s salad.



Speakin’ of hummers, get yourself a hummer for the first day of summer. (That’d be a good ad slogan if prostitution were legal.)

Anyhow, I wrote last night about Dateline. Then I remembered that Dateline is teaming up with PEOPLE MAGAZINE for some of its reports.


I’ve noticed recently that the newspaper I read regularly, the Chicago Sun-Times, has been teaming up with Channel 2 News (local CBS) for certain surveys.

And we wonder why journalism is going down the tubes. All all the well-paid, questionably deserving newspaper CEOs are scratching their heads, wondering why sales of their product is down.

First of all, the people who watch TV News are generally NOT THE SAME PEOPLE WHO BUY NEWSPAPERS! First of all, under truth and advertising laws, local TV news should not be allowed to call itself “news.” I don’t know what you’d call it, but perhaps we need a new name for “Tragedy report/ Celebrity ass-kissin’/ Weather/ Sports/ PR for ‘Survivor’ (or another show, depending on the network).

People who watch TV News are generally (but not ALWAYS, of course, although I don’t know why I have to say that when I’m engaging in stereotyping) people who LIKE to feel they’re “keeping up on things,” but don’t really have the time or energy for the effort.

People actually picking up the newspaper are doing so because they feel local TV news is woefully inadequate.

But the current theory is to make the newspapers more like TV news, which can’t really be done without beautiful talking heads and live microphones shoved into victims’ faces.

It’s kinda like making sports more like a soap opera to lure female viewers, thereby chasing away the core male vieweres.

Or something.

I don’t know how People Magazine ties into this all but... Well, it’s about as close to local TV news as you can get in print.



IS AT 20 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/22/2001:

Two peanuts went out for a malted

with sex crimes the male one was faulted.

When charges were read

he quibbled, and said,

“But she was already a-salted!”



Has anybody else noticed the disturbing trend of “Falling Upward” in Hollywood?

I was alerted to this trend years ago and almost forgot about it.

Until Rob Schneider made a movie.

“Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo” was not exactly a smash. And... Okay, I’ll admit I saw it. Not at the theater, though. And I’ll keep a little more pride by asserting that I didn’t even rent it. I was away for a weekend and it came on some cable channel and while playing scrabble, snacking, relaxing, it was on in the background.

There’s damn good reason it wasn’t a box office smash.

So what happened to Mr. Schneider, after proving his unworthiness in his first movie? Hollywood makes sure to give him another one!

Then, not too long ago, Martin Short launched a hideously unsuccessful bid at a talk show. And now...

Comedy Central awards him with a new show. Damn, I can’t remember what the hell it’s called, but he’s wearing a fat guy costume and he’s lisping and... I think it’s making fun of talk shows.

I caught it Wednesday night after South Park. Well, part of it. I thought, “Okay, maybe it’s just bizarre and it has to grow on you.” Then they did a bit with Tom Greene in Afghanistan, delivering a pizza to that Bin Laden character and... I guess it was a funny idea, but the inexplicable English accent they gave to the Tom Greene character...

Well, drove me to stop procrastinating and get back to the computer.

I guess it’s politically incorrect to deny someone a job because they hideously failed in a previous job of the same nature.



Okay, this may be difficult to follow.

But I was previously ranting on a Coke can’s message encouraging customers to experience “The Possibilities” of Coke, which caused me to wonder, “What POSSIBILITIES, other than drinking it?” which caused this reply from Squirrely:

>Well, there's always the possibility of advanced tooth decay, right? We're

>>all gunning for you.

To which I replied:

>Ahhh. Now that’s good times! We need more letters with teeth!

And now he replies:

>I agree! We need some incisor-sive wit!

I’m kinda hoping for a molar eclipse at this point.



IS AT 19 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/23/2001:

A fellow in ol’ Istanbul

was blessed with a fourteen-inch tool.

He once proved his cord

might’ier than the sword

when it killed a man in a duel.



This is one of those stories that I live for.

In short, a guy in Pennsylvania beat up Cookie Monster.

He was at some sort of Sesame Street event or theme park or something with his young daughter. According to him, Cookie Monster refused to pose for a picture with his daughter, and Cookie was being rough with her, rubbing her head, etc.

He shoved and kicked and generally beat up Cookie Monster.

That goes a long way toward winning the respect of a young child. Physically assaulting a Sesame Street character. Oh, and it turns out Cookie Monster was a girl. (I don’t want to spoil it for the rest of you, but... Cookie Monster is, um... Okay, in this case, it was a girl in a Cookie Monster costume.)

If this goes to trial, will Cookie appear in costume? “Your Honor. I’d like to call Mr. Monster to the stand. Mr. Cookie Monster.”

Poor Cookie. I bet that didn’t make him very Chip-per. But, that’s the story. No use sugar cookie coating it.

This takes me back to the guy in the Chicago suburbs who decked Chuck E. Cheese. Right in front of the kids... Of course, I mean, would a crowd at Chuck E. Cheese’s be filled with rowdy, raving teens?

In that case, the guy claimed Chuck was hitting up on his wife.

If that’s true, I gotta party with that guy. If you can actually hit on a woman wearing a giant mouse costume...



IS AT 18 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/24/2001:

If you remove your dink from its hood

you can play Rolling Stones--it feels good.

If your Richards can’t gag her

you can give it a Jagger

and have fun with your ol’ Ronnie Wood.



And now it’s time for a politically incorrect joke:

What do you call a woman who’s only attracted to Asian women?

A Resbian!



IS AT 17 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/25/2001:

There once was a gay man named Hayes

who’d lie in the sun all his days

a-gettin’ a tan

and sometimes a man

he’d call his rec, “Catchin’ some gays.”



After considering the True Hillbillies on one hand, and then England’s Royal Family on the other (amazing how much they have in common, isn’t it)...

I guess we have to concede that, when inbreeding goes down, bad and/or buck teeth come out the dominant gene.



IS AT 16 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/26/2001:

A mad vivisectionist, Lyle

sought to make a beast in his style.

As his packaged bulged

himself he indulged

by crafting the first Cockodile.



So they’re going ahead with a “Big Brother 2.”

Didn’t I recently write about “Falling Upward” in Hollywood?

Anyway, they’re pegging this as “The most controversial show of the Summer!” (Perhaps I paraphrase.)

My question is: Controversial how? I guess there’s a certain degree of controversy over WHY THE HELL THEY’RE RESURRECTING ONE OF THE MOST BORING SHOWS IN THE HISTORY OF TELEVISION.

A bunch of network executives sitting in a room. “They’re doing a reality show about people dropped on an island who have to survive!” says one. Another adds, “They’re planning one with people chained together!” And yet another, “They’re planning one with a ‘mole’ among them, and another capitalizing on people’s deepest fears!”

The consensus being, “We’ve gotta come up with something really exciting!” (Of course, “exciting” is a relative term. After all, we ARE talking about network executives.)

So somebody decides, “Hey! How’s this for excitement! A bunch of people in a house in Studio City... JUST SITTING AROUND!”

And his brilliance was rewarded.



IS AT 15 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/27/2001:

There once was a fellow named Frumpus

whose penis worked much like a compass.

Not North-South directions

shown by his erections

but the way to very fine rumpus.



I just read today that some of Archie Bunker’s words on “All in the Family” have been “phased out” in some re-run episodes.

Let’s examine this. We have a classis sitcom that was ground-breaking because it was willing to say and show things that were happening in real life, only nobody wanted to face up to these things. By saying and showing these things, the show helped fight bigotry. (Of course, it didn’t ALONE make things better, but you’ve gotta admit that we live in more inclusive times today and certain art forms, including “All in the Family,” contributed.)

So, as a tribute to such a show, saying and showing such things that many people were afraid to face, today we’ve decided to make sure they don’t say all those things, so we can not only hide our heads in fear of things happening today, but we can pull a “Pearl Harbor” and alter history to make it look a little nicer, too.




IS AT 14 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/28/2001:

There once was a fellow named Sam

was caught givin’ sheep the bam-bam.

By the cops he’s still hunted

as the county’s Most Wanted

(he’s presumably, still on the lamb).



Lately, I’ve been noticing that “Love Is...” is dwelling in winter themes recently. (Like, “Love Is... Scraping his windshield,” where the scraped-off portion of the windshield is in the shape of a heart.)

If you’ll recall, I’ve been on the cutting edge of investigative reporting into the newly turned evil that is “Love Is...” which was taken over by a young punk after its creator, an old hippie lady, died. In short, he’s been advocating everything from karaoke to computer dating.

As far as these winter themes are concerned, I have a few theories:

1.) The guy lives in Australia or something where it’s winter now.

2.) They guy has adopted some Hollywood work style, running re-runs all summer.

OR, my personal favorite:

3.) He’s felt the heat from Daily Limerick and stopped drawing the comic (and now they have to run old ones, ala “Classic Peanuts”).

Feel free to spread rumors to your heart’s content.



IS AT 13 DAYS...


Daily Limerick 6/29/2001:

A fellow whom good friends called Toddles

would just bang petite fashion models.

He was hung like a horse

so each conquest, of course

for a couple of months simply waddles.



I caught a few minutes (and it was a very long few minutes) of “Spy TV.” That’s innovation, I guess. It’s “Candid Camera,” without all that pesky humor stuff.





Daily Limerick 6/30/2001:

A girlie was told by her shrink

that too many men shared her pink.

She called it the end

with just one boyfriend

because he was the Weakest Dink.



Here’s just a concept. Fill in the jokes and/or anecdotes on your own:

Orifice Politics.


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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