Daily Limerick
Archives: December 2002

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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My friends, 'tis the Season to play

the Jingle Bell Game (in a way).

Take one chick who's willin',

give oral, 'fore drillin'

and have a "one course open lay."



For our special "Just Sunday" readers, I thought I'd warn you that, through the Holidays, I'm writing Holiday-themed limericks.

Actually, screw the political correctness--we're in no danger of running out--I'm running Christmas-themed limericks through the Christmas Season.

If that's what offends you most in this e-newsletter, well, things are even bleaker than I thought...

I'm instituting a new catch phrase--or, perhaps more of a "catch question"--to ask myself before anything I do. I urge readers to do the same. Here it is:

What Would Elvis Do?

Therefore, it's a bit difficult writing this, with a sloppy peanut butter and banana sandwich (my sixth for the day) in one hand and with the percodan kicking in and all.

Maybe I'll rethink my catch phrase question...

Do you still feel that dark beer is only for thick-necked guys named Gunther?

A silly question, I know, but that old commercial has been kicking around in my head lately. Inexplicably.

The campaign was for some dark beer or another. I think it ran in the '80s or perhaps the early '90s.

Perhaps I'm secretly attracted to the guy in the commercial, with his uneven mustache and suburban, white-bread appearance.

I doubt it, though, but figured it's a politically correct assumption to make. I think.

Do we have any thick-necked readers named Gunther, by the way?







incense perfume burns my eyes,

pushes shapes of her to highs,

swimming all around me with strange grace.

burning flowers to held mouths,

whispered unsung syllables.

fragile limning of her unseen face.

reminds smoke of cigarette,

waterfall in strings unlet.

sheer silk curtain twisting on the breeze.

loose hair dance against suspend

too ornate to comprehend.

mathematics turned on X Y Z's.

smokestack pumping petals free.

breathing spectrum factory.

oil's scent reclaimed from ember flower.

wrapped to capture excess furls,

ashes follow dim bright curls.

evening stalls awake within her hour.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He will bite.]



From Santa, "The Jolly" does flow.

His secret? He lets a clue show.

At Christmas Eve stations

he feeds his elation

but indulging in "ho' ho' ho's!"



I've finally figured out why Christianity (and any religion that demands its clerics stay away from women) is so anti-gay:



Christianity, in all its forms, stems from Catholicism, which, of course, boasts priests and the whole celibacy thing. And percentage-wise, priests are one gay ol' bunch.

I don't have any stats, but we're finding this out, thanks to the studyers of things, in an official manner these days. Any time you build a "Men Only" club, you're gonna get the big ol' queens--and despite all the macho crap, this includes the military.

So, you ask, how does an anti-gay thing spring from a bunch of homos?

Because it takes the typical homo a while to admit to himself that he's homo. And who else but a homosexual or "bi-curious" guy would be afraid of being "converted" to gaiety? ("Bi-curious," among men, anyway, is just a synonym for "in-the-closet homosexual.")

So the average priest candidate is curiously non-bothered by the whole "stay away from pussy" thing (it's tougher to get a beaver lovin' gentleman to go for a scam like that). Perhaps he's already found his gaze lingering on a man in a school locker room or something, but even if he hasn't, he's gonna be experiencing it quite often. Strange quiverings in the pants over a Ricky Martin video or the swarthy construction worker in the front pew, etc. And, of course, given the heterosexual majority of society and the general religious freak-out over sex outside of procreation, these religiously bent queens aren't real comfortable with these feelings.

Because people have a tendency to think that everybody else thinks like they do--and the concept requires an experience-learned, scientific method to combat (something discouraged by religious dogma)--many of these priests assumed early on that EVERYBODY out there was in danger of turning gay by viewing a tight robe on a teen altar boy or--Heaven forbid!--seeing some sort of open affection by homosexuals.

Therefore, religion evolved as a homo-fearin' concept and, quite naturally, society followed.

In light of the recent Catholic church scandals, my theory, of course, is not saying that gays as a group lust for underage boys. Many of these offending priests are simply child molesters and not typical gays. But some were driven by dogma into doin' up young boys. I mean, imagine, heterosexual guy readers, being born into some society wherein your career path dictates that you avoid the delightful whisker biscuit of mature women. But then they have you work in an environment where you're constantly surrounded by little girls.

We would never allow such a situation to occur, of course. But because the heterosexual population doesn't "think gay" very well, we've created a boy-lovin' machine in the Catholic Church.

This doesn't only go for priests, however. Whenever you hear anybody blatherin' along the lines of, "I don't have anything against gays, but I don't think they need to be so open about it... I still think it can influence kids somehow," like the priests freaking out about people goin' gay, these types of folks aren't directly worried about others. They're worried about themselves.

And they should be encouraged to rent a few gladiator movies and get in touch with their true selves.



When a she reindeer came to town

Rudolph dreamed of bedding her down.

He laid off the sass

and kissed her fine ass

'til his red nose was tinged with brown.



Once again, as a result of going over the newspaper TV grid too quickly, I've found interesting results:

I thought I read of the show, "Real World: Iraq."

Now, I might actually watch THAT season...

Now this celebrity situation could get a little confusing. And although the feeble punchline I've attached to it might have made a great limerick, I'm doing the seasonal limerick thing and, well it proved a bit rough to string together this idea in that form anyway.

It seems that the exercise program Kylie Minogue uses to keep her ass so fine was learned from Jean Claude Van Damme. (More evidence that everybody serves some useful purpose in life--even Van Damme!) At some point, Ms. Minogue saw Van Damme's ass in a movie and somehow ended up asking him about how he keeps it so taut. Then Kylie started doing his program for her own butt and, well, there you have it.

When this oh-so important news story came out recently, Van Damme also remarked that he can crack walnuts with his ass cheeks.

No word on whether Kylie can do the same, but I'll tell you this: I could certainly bust a nut on her ass cheeks.

Now, wasn't that worth the exposition?...

P.S. My spell-checker, in an example of its occasional accidental brilliance, might turn "Jean Claude Van Damme" into "Jean Clod Van Damned."



Santa and Ms. Claus had a fight

but, after, made everything right.

His charm Santa flexed

and in make-up sex

he plunged down her chimney that night.



I saw a promo for the TV show "24" yesterday, plugging an upcoming episode with a terrorist-theme.

The only terrorist they showed was a white woman.

I suppose some focus group composed mostly of guilty white liberals thought it would be unfair to portray an Arab as a terrorist.

Of course, we all know that most terrorists aren't Arabs. And there aren't any black or Latino gang-bangers. Oh, and the KKK hardly has any white, non-Jews in its ranks.

We've went from revisionist history to revisionist current events...

Dr. Elizabeth Gunther Stewart's has a new book out called, "The V-Book." The point of this book is supposedly to get women talking about their vaginas.

(On a side note, no news yet on whether this woman named "Gunther" is thick-necked--or on whether or not she likes dark beer.)

On a personal level, I'll admit that I have no problem with hearing more women casually chatting about their vaginas.

But I can't help but conclude that, although there was certainly a point in our history when sex talk was ridiculously taboo, this is another example of society having no sense of balance and just throwing things from one wacko extreme to another.

We need to shut up about sex more often these days.

I'll make an exception if you're a hot chick, but otherwise, I don't care to hear about your genitals. There was a time when I never thought I'd say this, but... We need to re-learn a little repression...

P.S. I have something in the January MAD.



There's a girl whose cock cravings do grow.

Why to her, jizz is like fine Merlot.

So when weather is frightful

her lust fire is delightful:

Let her blow, let her blow, let her blow!



A hockey league in New Jersey has mandated that the parents of any kid participating have to attend "anger management" classes.

Some advice for society overall: Put any of these loser wannabe entrepreneurs lacking real ideas out of work NOW. There should be no "classes" in things like "anger management" or "diversity" or "sexual harassment." Of the overall population, 99.9 percent of people do not violate applicable social mores because they have Common Fuckin' Sense--people who do violate these things are hopeless--fire 'em and there's no shortage of folks ready to fill their shoes.

But these nutjobs, first targeting the biggest money wasters on Earth--corporate suits--finagled us into thinking we can have classes on such things. But even these scum-lappin' yahoos realize that there's no money to be made on just the handful of cranks who don't understand "anger" or "diversity" or "harassment"--and they'll never be able to show results, as these pathetic fungi are beyond help--so they've managed to draw the general population into these bogus "classes."

Morons. Er, sorry, it IS Christmas Time. Make that, "Moron Americans"...

Marin County, California--stronghold of the fierce anti-smoking, wheat germ mainlinin', bean sprout scarfin', high colonic abusin', herbal remedy poppin', guilty white liberal, do-gooder fucknut holier than thou new-hippies-minus-the-fun, has the highest rate of breast cancer!

So ladies, I say lose the tofu, throw down a double cheeseburger and light up a big, honkin' stogie afterward--for your health, of course...

National Public Radio has hired its first black, female on-air host.

Hold on a second, I.... No, the newspaper is not from 15 years ago.

NPR, the snore-inducing, might-as-well-be-called NPCR station?

Huh? What? Who?...

Rob Schneider has another movie out.

Huh? What? Who?... Ooops. Gotta knock that off.

Has he ever had a successful movie?

File this under Not Only Is He Blowin' Somebody--He Must be Able to Suck a Bowling Ball Through a Straw.



There is quite a frisky young girl

named Joy, and when she gave a whirl

to sexual antics

it turned her quite frantic--

she now offers "Joy to the World."



Observe, grasshopper, as I link computerized grocery check-outs to human cloning:

Humanity is addicted to technology. I don't just mean that modern life is dependent upon it but also that, like any other addiction, it causes negative effects. But we don't care--we have to embrace the newest technologies, regardless of whether or not they are good or bad. Up until recently, new technology was an unqualified "good." Now, we have entered fuzzy territory and, in the future, it is possible that most technology will be mostly "bad"--but we'll be too addicted to resist it anyway.

The cellular phone is an example of fuzzy territory. Sure, we can call 911 in a flash. Sure, we can leave the house when awaiting that important call. But our boss and co-workers can follow us anywhere (I shouldn't say "us"--I've so far resisted the cellular phone).

Human cloning--other than a few auxiliary effects, like stem cell research--is a harbinger of the "all bad" technology--people are doing just fine reproducing the old-fashioned way and genetics, bypassed by cloning, has made us more intelligent, resistant, etc.

"Bad" technology is also with us in the form of the computerized grocery check-out.

First of all, we don't need to be eliminating jobs. Secondly, even if we get this working right, it will be supremely annoying--physically going to the store (no longer a necessity, thanks to the ability to order over the Internet--in itself "fuzzy" technology because, well, we're sure not the thinnest generation to come along) will be as annoying as working through an automatic phone system.

Of course, computerized check-outs are a big joke--and I'm not alone in this opinion, seeing most shoppers get in gigantic lines while avoiding the apparent "no wait" at the robotic check-out. They don't scan your things properly, fuck-up in giving you advertised discounts, and they always need a few employees to man them anyway because they have so many damn problems and confuse everybody so damn much.

I guess this makes me partially Amish or something, but there you have it.



At an early Christmas Day mass

an angel must have given sass.

Why else would it be

that each Christmas tree

is stuck up one's Heavenly ass?



I don't often toot my own horn... Well, at least depending on how dirty your mind is in interpreting that metaphor, anyway... But I must say, I am quite proud of today's limerick.

Some might call it sacrilegious. But if "Charlie's Angels"--the movie, that is--hasn't already robbed the term "angel" of any sacredness (sacredness?) well, then... But a Christmas tree shoved up Drew Barrymore's butt isn't an unpleasant thought.

And I don't mean it in a sexual way. Or do I?...

I'm sure nobody was too offended with the priest-bashing engaged in here recently.

Funny, but I somehow feel that the comments I'm about to make about fundamentalist Islam have more potential for offense.

Fundamentalism, by definition, regardless of its particular stripe, puts people at a disadvantage. That is, if you're burning books, well, you can't exactly be a wellspring of knowledge now, can you?

I read recently that those high on Islam despise dogs.

You've probably seen the Al-Qaida "training" videos in which they get their jollies using nerve gas on dogs. Well, that was no accident--it wasn't just that dogs were handy. Some mentally-addled Islamic texts--not the Koran, but Jerry Falwell-with-a-Muslim-slant-esque texts--go off on dogs and how they're "filthy" animals and, somehow, unholy.

Dogs, however, were an early technological development and, in keeping with my theories about how our fundamentalist enemies of all types are at a disadvantage because, well, they're blockheads, shunning the dog is shunning a science of great benefit to society.

Early on, dogs helped people because they are much better hunters. In return, we cooked up their kills to make 'em tastier and rewarded dogs with the parts that we didn't like but dogs happened to love. Likewise, dogs kept guard over our livestock and other assets, being able to hear and smell possible thieves much better than us humans.

So, in declaring an early scientific push "evil," these jizzheads set the stage for eventually despotically (despotically ?) ruling over nations who would be eating rocks and taking in "news" about how people of other, dog-loving religions bake up their Islamic children in matzo balls.

It's too bad an even earlier invention--fire--wasn't declared evil by these geniuses. It would be a much nicer world, no?...

(By the way, isn't ending a statement with a questioning "no?" so very, very European? Who's turned on?!?)



A strange fetished slut, full of dare

longed to bang Santa in her lair.

So with some smooth talking

Christmas Eve, her stockings

were hung o'er her head with, er, "care."



Today's edition of "Duh! Factor," my "reality" show (column) featuring real headlines:

From the Chicago Sun-Times-published Red Streak, yesterday:

"Survey: Americans Losing Trust in Priests."

Ya' think?...

(The feint of heart and/or those eating while reading might want to skip this section.)

And now for something that's sorta like a written version of "Fear Factor":

I saw a photo yesterday of John Ritter, Katy Sagal and Kenny G. performing Christmas carols...

And now, for the daily laugh at somebody else's (a regular Joe mentioned in the news recently) expense because they have a funny name:

Ellen Doody.

Hee hee...

And how about the Piggish Comment of the Day.

I've been occasionally watching "Wild On!" lately for sheer titilation.

My pun-making mind thought of, "Wild On: Brooke!"

I'd certainly go wild on Brooke.






TODAY'S POEM: Gray rain

Breathing with the rainy waves,

apart in a cloud.

Refreshed without comfort.

Thunder was too loud.

"Eat your crust and crumbs," she'd said.

Rain-softened and stale.

"Everything's the surface."

Water hit the pail.

She'd said beauty lies --

never will lie deep.

He'd said he would think on that

as he fell asleep.

Color drained the sky.

Corner feigned a why.

He awoke and she slept on.

Nothing to reply.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He will bite.]



A fetishist immigrant chose

to fake, of Yule, bein' in the know.

His mistletoe antics

got his new friends frantic

as 'neath he, well, sucked mistle-toe.



My, oh my, were the Sunday papers filled with stupidity yesterday. You should thank Heaven we have a new special edition Sunday Daily Limerick--which at least doesn't try to hide its stupidity!...

My newspaper TV Week has a little TV-related write-in, question-and-answer thing, and it's always guaranteed to unwittingly support the Chinese government's policy of forcing abortions.

Some Einstein wrote in this week wondering why "Law and Order" had an annoying voice describing all the action, as this brainiac didn't feel the show needed all the cumbersome description.

The answer man, in his infinite wisdom, explained that this Rhodes scholar had his closed captioning on...

An advice columnist (who cares exactly who because they're probably all the same person cloned, anyway) received a letter asking what to do about their pothead son, or nephew, or whatever the hell.

The columnist suggested many things, including getting this person involved in activities. One of her suggestion was music.

We all know, of course, that musicians, as a rule, avoid drugs...

I also noted--I'm not sure if I "duly" noted it, but I noted it--that USA Weekend, the pathetic Sunday paper supplement that might not be quite worthy of ass wipin', has a position in the offices called "creative director."

To ensure, I suppose, that nobody gets any crazy ideas about doing something original or halfway clever in its pages...

And I also saw (and promptly avoided reading) an interview with a "pet psychic." One of the subject's quotes was trumpeted in a large font by the headline: "Please don't think I'm a weirdo."

Sorry, fruitcake, but if you call yourself a "pet psychic," you might as well put "weirdo" on your business cards...

Speaking of raving geniuses, the folks behind "Analyze That" donated a portion of a premier's proceeds to some children's causes.

If people like this were truly interested in just helping kids, wouldn't they take donations for the cause rather than force some Godawful schlock upon you in the process?...

And a couple items today for the Piggish Crack of the Day:

In keeping with the concept of good eatin' for the holidays, Miss Turkey is now Miss World...

Angelina Jolie will be playing Linda Lovelace in some movie.

I don't have a witty retort for this, but my belief in God has been bolstered a bit.

I'm comin', Elizabeth!


DAILY LIMERICK 12/10/2002:

Wild Harry the Angel did bring

to the Christmas Angels, something.

His ribald excursions

spawned early song versions

like, "Hark! It's Harold Angel's thing!"


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/10/2002:

The burning of wood has been found to cause pollution, and so the San Francisco area is planning on banning wood-burning fireplaces.

California, HQ of the War on Fun...

You've probably heard that McDonald's is in trouble.

If you've followed any analyzation of just how this happened to a company that became an American Institution--other than the general rule that corporate mismanagement always play a huge part--you may have read that some of the "higher quality" and "adult taste" shots in the dark hit the company hard, as people really only want a quick, greasy (yet tasty) sandwich from a fast-food joint.

McDonald's--and countless other corporations--could have saved a lot of money on marketing/business gurus--and could be saving money today, and tomorrow for that matter--by simply consulting America's Premier Voice of Reason:

Slappin' and Yappin'.

Yup. It was said here first that the McDonald's tinkering would fail. But nobody listened.

If a schmuck in his underwear slaps and yaps--but nobody hears--did he really slap and yap?...

For that matter, what is the sound of one hand slappin' and yappin'?


DAILY LIMERICK 12/11/2002:

As Frosty got older and older

his sex drive grew bolder and bolder.

Girl passed on a scooter

and he grabbed her hooter

(could say he gave her the "cold boulder").


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/11/2002:

The Chicago Tribune's special section, "WomanNews," today carried a curious headline. The story was actually about getting young girls to think more career-minded than "marry some guy with a good career"-minded:

"Encouraging Girls to Think More Like CEOs."

Teenage boys of tomorrow: Watch your wallets on dates.


DAILY LIMERICK 12/12/2002:

One Christmas there was a snow blight

which left Fifi not feeling right.

So this hot coquette

walked on a porn set

and her Christmas got really white.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/12/2002:

A saw a reference in the news the other day to a guy who dubs himself a "public interest lawyer."


Sorry, but there's no such thing. Only "self-interest lawyers."


DAILY LIMERICK 12/13/2002:

Some elf girls were inventing toys

and one did vibrate with such noise!

It turned out so pleasin'

for that Christmas Season

they never talked to the elf boys.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/13/2002:

Here's an interesting headline from today's Chicago Sun-Times about Trent Lott:

"Pals Say He's No Racist, Despite Past Words, Actions."

So, other than the things he says and the things he does, he doesn't have a racist bone in his body.

Or, perhaps the headline should've been: "Pals Say the Second Knuckle on the Ring Finger of Lott's Right Hand is Not Racist."


DAILY LIMERICK 12/14/2002:

While list'ning to Handel's "Messiah"

the Season, young man did defy-a

dreaming to receive

the gift of a beave

from one known as Carey, Mariah.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/14/2002:

I haven't seen it, but after skimming numerous reviews of the new and "improved" version of "Robbie the Reindeer," the general consensus is the addition of "stars" (including the "on-my-sixteenth-minute-of-fame" Britney Spears) for the voices has more or less ruined a fairly decent, newer special.

I don't want Britney Spears in my Christmas, thank you. I like proven, time-tested, Christmas-capable folks.

Not every time-tested celebrity is Christmasy--and, in fact, some on their sixteenth (and later) minutes still make good Christmas celebrities, somehow.

For instance, Burl Ives, for most of his life, was little other than a Christmas celebrity. And Madonna is, among other things, a time-tested celebrity but... As far as I know, she's been kept away from Christmas specials.

So let's keep it that way.



A Salvation Army bell ringer

was one hot chick--pure bada-binger.

She raked in much money

(ironically funny

'cause most dreamed of given her stinger).


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/15/2002:

Because, evidently, even the event of decorating an artificial Christmas tree is too time-consuming for our modern age, you can now buy pre-lighted artificial Christmas trees.

Next year, I'm sure that a pre-ornamented version will be available.

'Tis the Season...

Just for the Holidays, a Chicago-area "adult/couples" store is holding a men's only shopping event.

Now, unless the ad campaign left off the gay angle, why the hell would any guy want to go shopping without the benefit of mentally undressing all the chicks?...

Chicago is considering driving it's economy into the ground by banning smoking in many public places. And, of course, the media is doing polls.

Once again, failing to take into account that you can't get a good sample of "normal" people by relying on those busybodies with pathetic enough lives that they participate in polls...

The Chicago City Council, in exploring this issue, is inviting hospital folk to speak out.

Which, of course, is kinda like asking grandmas if we should pass a law mandating the eating of vegetables...

Authorities in New York City are cracking down on a coffee company for releasing "obnoxious" coffee scents into the air.

For those looking for but a glance into the future of the Anti-Annoyance Movement after the War on Smokers is complete...

A company is now producing an inflatable bra.

If individuals are ever prosecuted for false advertising...






TODAY'S POEM: -I burn for you-

I burn for you like coals of the forest,

bright orange wires curling in soil.

I burn for you like the night-closing sky,

spilling colors like bowls of marbles.

I burn for you like the quiet of ache,

sizzling wax at the head of a candle.

I burn for you like every ugly word

I try to make beautiful for you.

I burn for you like the end of a dream,

turning grey, then bright as dawn.

I burn for you like a bulb of light

illuminating words in scaling texture.

I burn for you like the edge of the sea,

erasing the sand with white, strong hands.

I burn for you in the distance that takes

the closing of our passion, rekindles what breaks.

And I burn for you like the last kissed note

I bend to place on your eyes, and your throat.

I see limned within your eyes

that you burn for me fast as flame, dawning sky.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He will bite.]


DAILY LIMERICK 12/16/2002:

A Christmas kiss can be the root

of a game where soon out she'll put

some Holiday Joes

stretch the mistle-toe

into a full-fledged mistle-foot.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/16/2002:

Fox is broadcasting the "Greatest Christmas Moments of All Time" tonight.

Considering that something like this would have to include the private family moments of many unfamous people, I read a blurb about this show tonight to see just how they managed to get footage of these things.

Turns out, they're all Hollywood-related moments. And, despite the "of all time" boast, these moments are all from that brief sliver of humanity's existence since TV has been invented.

Hollywood goes with Christmas like Nazism goes with Rosh Hashanah...

Begging the question, "Why bother?" I read today of "holiday decorating firms," which come to your home and bedeck it in a Christmasy manner so you don't have to bother with such a treasured, recreational activity...

Some time back, I read of something being billed as an "adult comedy."

So, instead of cream pies, are there a lot of comical breasts to the face?


DAILY LIMERICK 12/17/2002:

The horniest reindeer is Blitzen

obsessed with how much tail he's getsin'.

Mounts every reindeer--

boy girl, straight or queer--

to see which whole his dink best fits in.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/17/2002:

As we've somehow all but forgotten the terrorist attacks and the actual important functions government might fulfill, anti-smoking Nazism has kicked in again and many cities across the nation are seeking to meddle in the one in a thousand places where smoking still is allowed. Part of this "zig heil!ing" entails discussion of any economic effects that might come of this--namely, restaurants and bars arguing that this will show them negative effects, especially considering that these busybody, Einsteinian legislators are pursing these der Fuhrerisms while the economy is still in the crapper.

(I'm not going to go into my opinions on these matters--or on "second-hand smoke" or other auxiliary topics, as they have been visited countless times in S&Y.)

But this got me to wondering about the economic effects of War on Smokers in ways we don't normally think about.

It started when I considered the plight of United Airlines. Its bankruptcy does not bode well for the economy, especially the local economy, when the Chicago area is considered. Yet, a part of me is almost joyful--I've experienced horrific customer service from major airlines, with such delightful memories as being couped up on the runway for more than an hour due to THEIR fuck-up, and I wonder if it just isn't high time that these uncaring, virtual monopolies were run into the ground by the "New Guys."

I thought about how the whole airline industry extends a giant middle finger to smokers--airports are designed so that you have to go in and out of security to grab a smoke and places like O'Hare airport have the audacity to post no-smoking signs in certain OUTDOOR areas.

It's not that big of a deal to me. I've never been a frequent flyer. If I did plan a trip to Europe, it's not like I'd all of a sudden remember "anti-smoking Nazism" and cancel it. And I can handle going long periods without a smoke, but it's the point of it all--when you have to arrive 2 hours or so early because of security, it's nice to have a smoke before boarding, but you have to remove your shoes extra times and otherwise deal with these Neanderthal creatures they create in some mad scientist's vat somewhere for the sole purpose of airport security.

Though the idea of anti-smoking Nazism wouldn't make or break a decision to fly for me, I know damn well that it's a factor. And if it's a factor for me, I know it's a factor for many smoker/would-be flyers and, thus, an economic hit to the industry.

Then I thought about places like sports stadiums (once the stomping ground of cigar-chomping men's men, now Disneyfied like everything else), theaters (especially considering the trend of really, really long movies lately), bowling alleys, etc.

And I wonder why politicians aren't exploring this idea, especially in a down economy and considering that new technological wonders in the area of air purification/ventilation exist, leading to the possibility of legitimate exceptions to certain laws and this commitment to "celebrating diversity in all its forms" that we bullshit ourselves into believing we're seeking.

But down economy, recession or even depression--nothing trumps Political Correctness...

Do we really need another band fronted by a "Metallica-esque" singer? Where's the "alternative" to that on my radio dial?


DAILY LIMERICK 12/18/2002:

So why does the Grinch have such gall?

Such humbugging that so appalls?

I'd guess that his heart's

just one body part

that came out two sizes too small.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/18/2002:

I read a letter to the editor the other day in which a woman contended that, due to society's problems with obesity, Santa should lose weight.

In most cases, he and Frosty have already lost their smoking pipes.

Every time I say to myself, "Nothing about political correctness can shock me anymore," I'm proven wrong...

File this in your "I knew this would happen, thanks to Slappin' and Yappin'" file:

The S&Y dubbed "one-joke, glorified home movies strung together into a 'show,'" pheonomenon known as "The Osbournes" is seeing viewership plummet...

Sign of Hope: Sales for big name authors are plummeting, which could mean that the other 99 percent of authors might be seeing halfway decent sales soon. What's more, viewed in light of the plummeting profits of the executive-infested, intelligent-art-averse record industry--and the decline of the Britney-esque and the boy bands--this may mean that America is again developing a sense of cultural taste...

But don't get too excited, just yet. The Chinese have developed a car that comes equipped with a karaoke machine.

Be afraid. Be shit-your-pants, this-may-be-a-sign-of-the-coming-apocalypse afraid.


DAILY LIMERICK 12/19/2002:

Frosty has no girlfriend--that's that

'cause she won't wear her magic hat.

Though it gives her life

it causes her strife

for she swears it makes her look fat.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/19/2002:

More proof that religion doesn't have a monopoly on dogma:

I receive an e-version of select Chicago Tribune headlines every day.

Yesterday, I first read one about how the percentage of teens who drink is down.

Right below that one was a nugget about how the American Medical Association is complaining that beer ads on TV cause kids to drink more.



DAILY LIMERICK 12/20/2002:

So you saw mom kiss Santa Clause?

Why that shouldn't cause you much pause.

A friend of mine, Tom

saw Santa and mom

break numerous Southern state laws!


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/20/2002:

Today's edition is comin' at cha' early because today is a personal holiday for me, of sorts.

Once a year, for a few hours, I drop my stereotypical male shopping habits and actually SHOP. (Instead of running into a store, bee-lining for exactly what I want, buying it and leaving in a rush.) That is, I dilly-dally, peruse, take in the sights. (And, of course, ogle the dames.) The reason for this is Christmas.

I cast aside everybody's "wish lists" and "gimme lists" and I look for fairly cheap items that strike me as something people on my list would like, but wouldn't buy for themselves. (Since it's the thought that counts, this is my way of using thought instead of, well, as I said, "gimme lists.")

And I take in the downtown decorations and get all Christmasy. I'll even be wearing my Santa hat.

After a few hours, thanks to the crowds, I'll begin to hate humanity, and before that attitude kicks in fully, I'll leaves the stores just in time to keep my Christmas Spirit intact.

And then I'm done with actual "shopping" for another year.


DAILY LIMERICK 12/21/2002:

Santa on his rounds glimpsed hot Nelly

undressed--showin' a fine flat belly.

He hid 'hind the tree

and whacked off with glee

and shot a bowl full of love jelly.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/21/2002:

Here's an episode of "Duh! Factor," my own "reality" show featuring real headlines from real newspapers. Today's episode comes from the Dec. 19 Chicago Tribune, from one of those brain-dead advice columns:

"Dating 13-Year-Old Risky Business."



An elf workaholic go-getter

could not lead a love life unfettered

so his elfen chick

stopped taken his dick

and sent him a rein-deer John letter.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/22/2002:

Nikki Petersen is suing the organizers of a 4-H pig show in Lake County, Illinois, because she was banned from that contest, and future contests, because her pig tested positive for drugs and she claims, I guess, that it's not what it seems. Her pig is just not just another one of those pig lookin' for kicks through a good high.

This really happened, folks. This is where we're heading.

Not that, of course, many children don't look to pigs as role models.

But the pig reportedly got a sunburn when it fell asleep in the sun and he was given a shot of some drug to relieve the pain.

Now there's, of course, many jokes to be found in this little tale. But this is one of those cases where reality doesn't need embellishment...

Speaking of role models, Miami Dolphins coach Phil Riley was fined for criticizing the referees.

Wouldn't want children to get the idea that speaking their mind in America is acceptable...

And here's one for the "Why Do They Hate Us Americans?" file:

The Chicago Tribune published a "Year in Pictures" section this week. I'm guessing that more and bigger ones are planned, as this was on a weekday and, well, there's still some time left in 2002.

But after thumbing through some photos of, well, typical Middle Eastern drama, death, destruction and what have you, there was a picture of a teenage boy bawling his eyes out.

He was on a bench at a basketball game. His team had missed a shot at the playoffs.

This is, after all, a time of year to think about what's REALLY important...

I was reading some "airline travelers tips" the other day--new ones, considering that new bomb detection machines have made their way into airports--and learned that you shouldn't carry chocolate or cheese in your luggage because they will set off the bomb detectors.

How the hell does chocolate or cheese set off a bomb detector? Are there chocolate and cheese bombs out there? And how can one possibly travel without a wheel of havarti?...

I've noted before in this space that, while I appoint myself an authority on manliness insofar as exercising my write to call other straight guys "girlie men," I have some traits that fall way outside the male stereotype.

In my home, I don't control the remote.

This is largely because, of the TV watched in my home, I'm behind only about 5 percent of it.

In fact, I have trouble working the remote on the occasions I do end up with it in my hands.

I guess I've never taken to the art of simply watching TV without having something I've decided to watch predetermined. Well, I did for a while when I first got cable. And I do when I'm seeking second-hand porn late at night. But, with time, I just became frightened and lost hope in the human race as I discovered all of my "entertainment" options while perusing my channels. Although I'm amazed at all the available options we have, should we thirst for complete, unadulterated crap.

So let that be a lesson to you.


Steven Spielberg bought Bette Davis' Oscar at an auction and, in some twisted turn of events, is seen as a sort of good Samaritan because he donated it to the Academy.

I'm holding off nominating Steven for sainthood until it's given to, oh, some sort of homeless advocacy group or something.

But it's a good cause. Not that it would interfere with the ridiculously high objectivity standards of the organization that will vote on whether his current and future movies will receive awards for their "quality."

Not at all.






TODAY'S POEM: Cake Flowers

[Read at Doug and Barbi's wedding]

In the fragile light

of this fragile life,

we need to share our strength.

Candle flames waver

and jump at the edge

of wicks, wanting the sky.

Light is a fluid

that loves large spaces

to fill and make its own.

You two are both

part of that light.

You belong to its echoes and peace.

You two are both

pastry flowers

on the same spot on the cake.

Metal won't part you

with the tines of a fork,

but bind you in love with a ring.

In the fragile light

of this fragile life,

you have added love's glow and its grace.

May you always have that shine;

And within each other,

may you always have your dreams and your need.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He will bite.]


DAILY LIMERICK 12/23/2002:

If your Christmas-time hanky panky

entails a bit of spanky spanky

if during cheek slappin'

you trigger a crappin'

make sure you don't hit Mr. Hanky!


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/23/2002:

With today's entry, we introduce "South Park's" contribution to the Christmas pantheon...

Today's holiday-related edition of "Duh! Factor" features a deck on a headline in the Dec. 22 Chicago Sun-Times:

"Survey Finds Men More Likely to Put Off Holiday Shopping"...

The season is upon us for those annoying end-of-year roundups every media outlet feels compelled to do. One particularly lame-ass subspecies is the "what's hot/what's not for the New Year" run downs.

The Chicago Tribune's Sunday magazine has declared that "overwhelming cleavage" is NOT hot.

There you have it, guys. We will mysteriously stop acting as we have been for, oh, 6,000 years or so on Jan. 1.

Interestingly, I noted that the people who compiled the "hot/not hot" section were at least 85 percent women...

Why is "cute" the predominant compliment in the female vocabulary?

Show a woman one of your writing clips and, if she likes it (or at least wants to pretend she likes it), it's cute. Ask her what she thinks of her best friend's new boyfriend, and he's "cute." Say, how was the movie last night? Well, of course, it was fucking "cute"!

This has to be some sort of conspiracy. A man does not aspire to cuteness. (Although he'll take the compliment--especially if it gets him laid.)

Of course, most women don't consciously aspire to "bangable," "good eatin'," or "I'd do her" status.

So I guess we're even.

Actually, we're not. "Cute" is comparatively unamusing.


DAILY LIMERICK 12/24/2002:

Christmas Eve's like sex--why, by Jim'ny!

'Cause Santa goes out on a limb, he

sure likes comin' in

(unless there's much sin--

or a burning feel in your chimney)!


DAILY LIMERICK 12/25/2002:

The best part of Christmas, kids feel

is opening gifts--its appeal

brings joy to their world

so grab your best girl

and rip off her clothes with that zeal!


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/24-12/25/2002:

I'll keep this simple: Merry Christmas.

And if you don't celebrate Christmas...

Merry December 25th.

And may visions of sugarplums dance in your head--in true Nantuckett style!


DAILY LIMERICK 12/26/2002:

A crippled old fellow named Hutchess

and kicked his "street cred" down some notches

by whittling his crutches

with penis-like touches

so he could walk around on crotches.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/26/2002:

For Christmas, or Christmas Eve, or something, a television "show" is broadcast in New York that consists of a "fire" burning to music. It's reportedly rather popular.

Ahh! Nothing like cuddling up in front of the ol' TV, rubbing your hands as our forefathers did over the... static.

Enough time has passed for us to go back to hating New York...

Barbie has some sort of friend. I think her name is "Midge." (I actually looked back through some newspapers for the actual name, but there's only so much I'll do for a story like this.)

Anyway, they've come out with a pregnant Midge doll. And, of course, Wal-Mart shoppers found this offensive and she was yanked from the shelves.

Nothing about children can be considered in any way offensive. But we must ignore how the children got here...

Word has come out from investigators in Europe, and maybe the FBI (I'm big on research today) that al-Qaida is plotting more shoe bomb attacks.

Furthering bolstering my proof that our terrorist enemies, being religious fanatics, can never truly "win" in the end because they make the Three Stooges look intelligent. (Although I'd argue that the comedy of the Three Stooges is beyond intelligent... I think you know what I mean.)

Yup. With the rousing success of attacks like Richard Reid and the fact that the one thing airport security CAN handle now is dismantling people's shoes, this is a brilliant tactic.

Yo, Mohammed! Pick two fingers...

Dubya has went and pardoned a group of people. One of who, Douglas Harley Rogers, is a big time Jehovah's Witness player.

He was in jail for failing to report for military induction.

Nice to see our super-patriotism crack-down is proceeding in an even-handed manner.



They strangely say Men are from Mars

and dames are Venusian--bizarre!

A more common pattern:

back seat of a Saturn

he circles Uranus for hours!


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/27/2002:

There have been personal ads to Jesus, the Virgin Mary and various Catholic saints for ages--as, of course, these holy folk have nothing better to do than read various newspapers "personals" sections.

Recently, I finally read one to Allah.

More proof that stupidity, if nothing else, exhibits diversity:


DAILY LIMERICK 12/28/2002:

Rachel's heart had two spots quite spatial

for guys who gave her frequent facials.

Good friends were the two

and yet neither knew

that their friendship was inter-Rachel.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/28/2002:

What is it with people trying to bum parts of your newspaper?

This appears to be an alarming trend. I've had a guy try and "borrow" my sports section if I'm done with it. And two other people have asked me for "any part of the paper I'm done with."

Of course, most people aren't as silly as me about newspapers--considering I save them for a month in case I need them for reference or something. (I'm not big on reading on the Web--as far as I'm concerned, printed material is the ultimate reading device and those piddling with e-books an the like are simply technology addicts who can't face the fact that some new inventions AREN'T NEEDED. But I digress.) Also, I've had instances where I needed even a silly section--the "Auto" section or even an ad supplement.

Not only is the Chicago Sun-Times here only 35 cents but there are boxes all over the place with FREE publications!

Next time, I'll have to think up a comeback. "Can I borrow a few pages of your newspaper?" "Sure, if I can borrow your underwear!"

I'll need something better than that. Something more relevant. And I'm not sure where I'm going with this, obviously.

So I'll leave it at that.



A man harbored sex'ul delusions

for a chick whom with he was luge-in'.

He nestled her back

and ground 'gainst her crack

(at least gettin' second-hand spoojin').


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/29/2002:

REMEMBER, SUNDAY-ONLY READERS: You can subscriber to the daily version of this crap by simply e-mailing me and asking for it!

(Yes, "asking for it" is the appropriate phrase.)...

Construction of the new police station in the city of Sausalito has been held up over many concerns with the new design.

One of the most pressing complaints: The feng shui is all wrong.

In case you didn't know, and haven't guessed, Sausalito is in California.

Here's what we should do: Have Daily Limerick and its readers secretly evacuate all our friends and relatives and offer up the Golden State to North Korean, or some other nation giving us trouble...

A school district in downstate Illinois has decided to ban any perfumes that may cause allergies.

Anti-smoking Nazis are reveling in the newly created War on Every Possible Annoyance...

Speaking of raging political correctness, there is some good news on this front: Draconian cigarette taxes, the revenue from which is feeding a new monetary addiction that's sweeping the political nation, have for many reasons (driving smokers to buy out of state, etc.) left states with lower budgets for pork projects... er, "health-related measures," driving home again the point, continually ignored throughout history, that drug prohibition (and borderline prohibition) never, ever, works.

With most of the anti-tobacco lawyers having been paid, however, this "consumer activism" is still largely a political success...

More on the Good News front... Hollywood's Entertainment Industry Development Corporation--the organization which tries to keep film and TV production in Southern California--in a high-tech world that renders Hollywood increasingly irrelevant as an "Entertainment Mecca"-- is under investigation for leveling bribes to politicians and others.

So, we may stop still the Industry before it remakes (and sequel-izes) every production ever undertook by mankind?..

Prepare to be shocked: It's just been deemed fit, at the end of 2002, to admit that the feud between Andy Kaufman and wrestler Jerry Lawler was fake.

Fake stuff--in the world of "pro" wrestling? It can't be!...

And here's something I'll deem "shocking" without the sarcasm: Re-worked re-runs of "The Bachelor" are appearing on the Family Channel.

Because, of course, everyone knows that trying to nail as many bimbos as you can in the hot tub is the embodiment of Family Values...

Coolest Journalistic Phrase of the week: Debra Pickett, in today's Chicago Sun-Times, refers to Jamie-Lynn Sigler's boyfriend/manager as her "boyfriend-cum-manager."

I just found the dirty thoughts it prompted delightful...

And I just thought I'd let you know that, after having one too many stolen, I'm never loaning a pen to anybody again! Curse you non-pen-carrying folks!

So, the New Year's Resolutions are taken care of here at the Daily Limerick.






TODAY'S POEM: Burning rough drafts in the snow

The ground laps at the words of snow,

white tongues meeting paper flames.

Burning notes are casting smoke

and elegies to frost.

Knot and ash is covered by

this willing blank and melting verse --

muddy puddle, dirty mirror

reflecting the blue-hot source.

Rough cuts merely fuel these pens,

boiling ink asleep in earth.

Let the snow come down, to write

of black ice patterns in the sky.

Melting words in breath's suspend,

as the winter grey portends.

Turning flint to sparking stone.

Rhythm's heat to warm these bones.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He will bite.]



>Simply say:


>Yes, you can borrow my newspaper. For I am the Artist Formerly Known as



>Actually, no, don't do that.



Huh? What?

That was horrible! You even made doves cry!


DAILY LIMERICK 12/30/2002:

A pic's come to light of rap's Eve

giving her clothing a reprieve.

Features a sex toy

but nary a boy

and two chicks--triple decker beave.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/30/2002:

My contribution for today's RedEye (the "legit" publication I write limericks for) was something on the same topic as today's limerick. They didn't publish it today, but they may in the future, who the fuck knows... Anyway, my point is that you get a much dirtier version of that as a Daily Limerick subscriber!...

Don't look for the "Star Trek" franchise to be around much longer.

(I must also say here that I am NOT a Trekkie--it just didn't happen, somehow. I share many aspects of a common history with Trekkies and was most certainly a nerd with sci-fi tendencies and all in my school days. As a shaver, I enjoyed the first Star Trek but... Somehow I never evolved into a full-fledged Trekkie.)

Anyway, I've been reading about how the last movie hasn't done so well. And today I read of the first nail they're putting into Star Trek's coffiin.

The newest show, whatever the hell it is (that I don't even know the name off-hand is another sign of doom for Star Trek), will be including an allegorical story line about some future disease that resembles AIDS--complete with lessons of tolerance, education about how it spreads, etc.

Usually, an AIDS-fighting agenda is most certainly a good thing. But moralizing in TV shows?... Well, need I say more? Especially a TV show that's meant to show an optimistic future for escapist purposes.

Next up: The captain smokes a bunch of "Mari-Klingon-Juana" and goes on a shooting spree.

Or was that a Bush Administration PSA I saw...

Avril L... Er, what's her name--the singer who's being pushed by major corporate entities today as a non-major corporate, alternative entity--wears ties.

Once again, ladies: Ties are a phallic symbol. There are some things the quest for equality should avoid.


DAILY LIMERICK 12/31/2002:

For next year, it hopes to believe

that you'll get more cock or more beave.

Start tonight--have at 'em

one plays New Year's Adam

and someone else plays New Year's Eve.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 12/31/2002:

On this New Year's Eve, I look back at 2002 and, unlike a lot of people, can say that I kept my resolution from last year:

Not to make any more New Year's resolutions...

Today's newspaper informs me that Chicago's Symphony Center is throwing one of the local bashes that is still actually open to late-comers.

I've been reading lately about the fact that symphony/opera/etc. companies are experiencing bleak financial times.

Here's why: Beethoven, and other composers of his ilk, would have undoubtedly embraced the "opening up" of music to include people from all classes, in laid-back situations, whereas these symphony centers and such reinforce the primitive view of "good" music as an upper class undertaking. (Beethoven would probably not be too happy about the MTV-ization of music but.... Hmm, isn't the recording industry floundering, too?)

In other words, I love a good deal of classical music, but I'm not about to shell out for overpriced tickets for the privilege of sitting around with a bunch of caviar-eating snobs who are really only into classical because it's "the thing to do"...

Yakov Smirnoff has had his "boo hoo about Sept. 11) painting erected somewhere around the World Trade Center site.

And to think I've been maintaining all along that Sept. 11 has been one big publicity stunt peg for floundering "celebrities"...

By the way: Happy New Year!


Visit SLOOP CENTRAL: http://home.earthlink.net/~sloop49


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 passed a few times! 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 Sloop Biederman's, or Theater of the Droll's, e-list for comedy, sketch and/or poetic performances (in Chicago, Los Angeles, miscellaneous street corners or elsewhere), let me know!


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