Daily Limerick
Archives: July 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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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!

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A man who worked up at Mount Rushmore

enjoyed causing ladies to blush more.

Took his manliest asset

and four times, plaster cast it

then would show all his dates his Mount Gush More.



The British have come up with a cell phone that fits into your tooth.

Remember how we thought that inventions like cell phones would bring us enhanced freedom? Although the advertisements still trumpet this hopeless cause, I think we've all found out by now that it just means there is no escaping the office.

And now, you can't even say you left the damn thing at home...

Now it seems that breakfast cereals, like Cheerios, contain a cancer-causing substance.

Once again: Are cereals enjoyable? Yes. Well. Then wipe that shocked look off your face...

We owe more thanks to the People Who Study Things for a Living: The National Marriage Project at Rutgers finds that "men put off marriage as long as they can."

Again: Wipe that shocked look off your face...

I was reading about problems U.S. forces are having in Pakistan and Afghanistan, particularly concerning the culture clash inherent when you bring U.S. troops into these foreign lands. I read of a native man who was upset that the U.S. spoiled a wedding because they came to check it out after hearing gunshots.

Then, it described a Pashtun wedding as being accompanied with "the traditional firing of Kalashnikovs."

Tradition. Culture. It is all to be respected in the name of diversity!

Can we finally, resolutely, put the final dagger in political correctness yet?...

There's a psychic ad that's been running for some time in the Chicago Sun-Times. At first, I thought the newspaper folks would get in trouble for screwing up the ad. But it continues to run, despite its... er, awkward reading. So it would seem that the placer of the ad, well, asked to have it read: "Miricals performed."

Out of all the past and current lives this shyster has access to, none of them can help with spelling?



A chick who's man was always snoring

at first was put off but the roaring

but one night, sleep waiting

saw his lips vibrating--

now mounts his face nightly for scoring.



America owes its success to morons.

That's the only conclusion I can draw, after thinking about this for some time.

I first began to formulate my hypothesis when analyzing the state of television (although, in TV's defense, its not much worse than the Silver Screen or, increasingly, the publishing world at this point). Granted, there are some great shows. And granted TV is an easy way to get your entertainment jones after a hard day at the office.

But, and perhaps I'm a bit of a hard critic here, but I would have to say that at least 9 out of 10 shows are too crappy to keep me seated on the couch--even if it were after a hard day of hauling pianos up staircases.

Especially in an age of focus groups and marketing surveys and blah blah blah, this cannot be a mere accident. We in fact cater to the Moron Americans.

Since most of the entertainment industry is fueled, directly or indirectly, by advertising, my critical eye next turned to that realm. Advertising, of course, just wouldn't work without morons. Oh, it has a subliminal effect on us all, of course, but anybody who would bypass the word of their mechanic, testimonials from people they actually know and stuff like Consumer Reports to buy a car simply because they like they omnipresent, annoying "zoom zoom" jingle is... Well, a flaming, full-out moron.

But, of course, if it weren't for the morons, there wouldn't be so much advertising. Hell, there wouldn't be so many products.

Face it: We're a Moron Driven Society. In fact, I think that the whole economy's status of being immersed in shit (sorry for the technical jargon) is thanks to an increase in intelligence among the American population and a decrease in moron activity. Hey, investigations into Enron and Worldcom and all the others are a sign of utilizing intelligence, telling us that the whole boom of the '90s was really thanks to a bunch of morons investing in what was a bunch of bullshit, when you get down to it.

My hypothesis became a theory recently when I was interviewed, for the second time, to see if I'd be allowed to participate in one of those paid Marketing Survey event thingies.

I signed up with some of these organizations when I was initially laid off late last year. Some of them called a few times offering me a shot at a slot when I'd already had other plans. But two of them, one recently, interviewed me to see if I was worthy.

For the first, I was asked all about my coffee drinking habits. I make coffee at home and drink coffee at work because it's free. If it's not free, I go in on a can or bag or whatever with somebody else. If I do buy coffee by the cup, I pick it up at a 7 Eleven or something or have some with a meal at a diner.

This intelligent, frugal attitude was not what they were looking for. Business decisions are made around people who blow money.

Now, you might say that many of the people who buy this designer coffee are often well-to-do folks. You may be right--to some extent. But, in many cases, rich people are rich because they scrimp and save. Most of the money "blown" in this society is by people who can't afford it--those who end up in financial slavery to the credit card companies. (A highly prized species of moron.

The last phone survey I participated in was for a Best Buy session. By this time, I was on to the idea that I probably should just lie, but I kinda gilded the lily, as they say (or at least as Greg Brady once said). I said I'd be buying a DVD and a VCR in the next three months (I know we need a new extra VCR and I'll eventually get a DVD player, but I haven't put a time line on either). I said I buy CDs regularly, which I sorta do, and if you count my wife's CD buying, is certainly true of the "household" overall.

But then he asked some "attitude" questions, to rank on a scale of 1 to 10. I said that I keep up on new technology to a level of about 8. Then he asked if it was "important to keep up on the latest trends" and I couldn't lie. Well, I gilded again. I said a "4."

Then this clown even started helping me out. He repeated the question, went into greater detail. He mentioned technology, and I said that, concerning technology, it certainly is important to keep up on the latest innovations, especially when you consider computers. So I went up to a 7.

He told me I wasn't the type for the survey. There was no going back.

So even all the market research that happens before the dumb commercials accenting the dumb TV shows is based on the opinions of morons.

Again, some may argue that it would be more important for these groups to seek out those with tons of disposable income. But, as a practical matter, people who are well-off don't sign up with companies to make an extra buck through occasional marketing surveys.

Practical. Willing to spend money they don't have. Followers, not leaders.

Morons. Keeping America great.



An old pervert scopes boys and tracks 'em

then shows them his copies of Maxim.

Then, when they get boners,

this filthy ol' loner

reaches in their pants and he whacks them.



It's Fourth of July--sing and dance!

Find someone, and take a bold stance!

State plans to get active

to someone attractive:

Declaration of In-de-pants!



There once was a girlie named Charlotte

moved Westward to become a starlet.

This choice, it was clear

did start her career

which turned out to be as a harlot.



In writing these things, there's a trick

you don't want to make 'em too slick.

For if they're too steamy

you'll get dirty dreamy

and might suffer from lim'rick dick.



A man who had rose-colored glasses

banged chick in groups large as land masses.

Closing time, at the pubs

took home his choice in tubs

who, to him, all had rose-colored asses.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 7/3-7/7/2002:

The other day, I was sitting outside in the park. In the middle of the grass. Just staring at the grass, not really in the mood to do much or to even think about much.

A couple of guys in suits and sunglasses happened upon me. They checked me out for a while and then approached.

"Hi. We're the producers of 'Big Brother.' We were wondering just what you are doing right now?" they said.

"Oh. Just watching grass grow, I guess," I answered.

"Hey--can we buy that idea from you? That would make an exciting 'reality' show!"

True story.




I have this one neighbor, quite pesty

her yakkity-yak knows no rest-y

I'd shun and avoid her

like she were a goiter

if she wasn't so gosh darn chesty.



Michael Jackson stepped out of his Bizarro World this weekend and denounced the recording industry for exploiting minorities.

Michael is, of course, right. But I'm a little suspicious of this being a "minority" issue, unless you consider people with a creative bone in their bodies to be "minorities." In that case, the entire Entertainment Industry exploits minorities...

I recently bought the new Eminem CD. Although I kinda like they guy, artistically at least, the reason I bought it was to make fun of it in the hopes of selling the idea to MAD.

There's a lot of complaining on this disc about Eminem being attacked by the FCC, MTV, etc. A lot about how Eminem is "persecuted."

But I've been reading the book "Completely MAD" recently--a read I highly recommend--which tells the story of MAD Magazine and EC Comics. I've been learning all about how McCarthyism and the Comics Code of the '50s attacked publications like MAD and things became much like the Soviet Union, which, of course, these cerebrally mutated do-gooders were trying to protect us all from.

And then I thought about Lenny Bruce. How he was destroyed, and indirectly driven to the drugs that would kill him, by "obscenity" prosecutions and the like.

I know it's not just Eminem who, able to release his albums freely without censorship, is whining about persecution. And, I guess, considering we live in America, there is always some policing to be done concerning the strains of censorship that still exist today. But I'm making him the example here.

And in reading about these ridiculous cases from the middle of last century, I just have to say...

Eminem: Shut up. Just please, please, shut the hell up.



The Browns' neighbor so laughed and chuckled

while visiting, his pants unbuckled.

Brown implored his wife

to help with this strife

and then and there made him a cuckold!



The wife of that nut who went on a shooting spree (curiously hitting only Israelis), whose name I could look up but don't feel like it--and it's a long-ass name anyway--claims that her husband is innocent and this is all some trumped up, anti-Islam conspiracy.

There were many witnesses. But the sky, of course, is green in this case.

Why are we having problems in the Middle East again?

This is your brain. This is your brain on fundamentalist religion...

I read an interview with Robin Williams recently (who, consequently, I still don't "get"). He brags that he's never seen "Seinfeld" or a host of other popular shows and movies.

Silly me. I thought keeping up on pop culture was the duty of all humorists.

But this goes quite a way toward explaining why a little bell didn't go off his head when, in the Godawful "Death to Smoochie" (which I only know from the promos), his character utters, "Whassup!" despite the fact that the term hadn't really been funny for a year or more at that point, if it ever was...

Somebody was obviously following the philosophy "WWHD" ("What Would Homer [Simpson] Do") at the Taste of Chicago. He allegedly ran up on stage and stole a guitar from the band Foreigner...

An update on S&Y's activist movement to Stop Funding Idiot Studyers of Things (SFIST):

A Poll by the Pew Charitable Trust finds 94 percent of callers find those computerized, hit-such-and-such-number-on-the-keypad-for-such-and-such phone systems "very frustrating."

Another shocker from the Studyers of Things.



A sunbathing girlie, no dummy

ran out of sun screen, which was crummy.

But then a voyeur

caught by her allure

shot some lotion onto her tummy.



Supporting my theory that, well, anything tasty and/or fun is bad for you:

Studies are finding that thongs cause infection and disease.

Say it isn't so!...

On a similar note, for the first time, today I heard somebody on the radio lump fast food in with drugs, alcohol, tobacco and gangs.

Which supports another theory of mine. About the Pussification of America.

If you're participating in this one, I guess that makes you a Pussifist.



A porn star walked in on young Randall

whacking off, and he let her handle

his thing, for to diddle--

she played like a fiddle!--

he fired like a damn Roman candle!



Here's a quote from an Associated Press story, by Marcy Gordon, about, among other things, Dick Cheney and George W. Bush's past shady corporate dealings:

"The USUALLY CONSERVATIVE [emphasis added] Judicial Watch announced a lawsuit against Cheney, Halliburton and auditor Arthur Andersen..."

A-ha! More evidence to confirm my theory that "conservative" and "liberal" are meaningless terms only useful in dividing the public into feuding groups so that they don't realize government is the REAL enemy.

Here, of course, "conservative" meaning, well, of the Republican party.

Philosophy, of course, has little to do with the terms anymore...

As one of those people who tries to keep up on the news, I try to make a mental note of names in the news, be they foreign leaders or terrorists.

But it's been really rough with some of these terrorists. They have some of the longest names outside the Royal Family Circus.

And I think I know why. It's not culture or tradition or anything like that. By having these multi-syllabic names, they slow down our broadcasters and leave less room for news about them. Really. Reading off a list of accused terrorists, or whatever, takes about the same amount of time as reading the Gettysburg Address.

Makes you long for the days of villains like "Black Bart," doesn't it?...

What's up with O'Doul's marketing?

They make it sound like any old regular Joe should consider a non-alcoholic beer.

I think a regular Joe with an O'Doul's is an idiot. I'm a reformed crock and I don't even drink them that often.

Why don't they run something like, "O'Doul's--if you can't drink real beer because of that pesky sixth DUI, we give you at least the semblance of a party atmosphere."



The DL turns 3 years today

you'd think that I'd scream and I'd bray

for parties and fests

but what I'd like best's

a good blow to cap off a lay.



Today is Daily Limerick's third anniversary.

Yep. It was three years ago today that I decided to send out one limerick per day, for one month, to a little over a half dozen people, in order to plug the "All Limerick Slam" event of the 10th Annual National Poetry Slam celebration in Chicago, which would be occurring on Aug. 12, 1999.

That means that the above limerick is my 1,097th. At least, for the Daily Limerick, anyway, although I've written plenty more for other reasons. Not necessarily good reasons. But do you need a reason to write a limerick?

This makes me wonder whether or not I am in the running for the most prolific limericist alive. Or possibly, in history.

Of course, I should have plugged this a little more. On my computer "sticky" notes, I have a note to whip up some press releases to send to newspapers and such, but I was hoping to have an "actual" Web site up and running before getting the word out.

And my good friend, and DL reader, Mike, is still supposed to merge his daily poetry deal with mine.

In short, I've been a knucklehead about things.

But I have kept up the Daily Limerick for 3 fuckin' years.

Hooray (and all that jazz)!...

I suppose I could just let S&Y slide today with my misty meanderings about DL, considering it's DL's birthday and all, but I thought I'd prove my dedication (or whatever dysfunction it is that causes me to do this e-newsletter) by hitting an S&Y topic just like on any other day.

First off, does anybody know who the hell Chesty Lareau is? (And for that matter, whether I spelled her last name correct?) I'm pretty sure that she's a real person, as I've heard humorous references to her on "Seinfeld" and the "Simpsons." (Come to think of it, that's a good anniversary contest: Name the episodes I'm referring to and how the reference comes out in each.)

Well, anyway, I've dubbed a woman in my apartment building "Chesty Lareau." In our courtyard, we have these plots for gardening, open to anybody who lives here, and she tends to her flowers or vegies or whatever the hell she's growing regularly. Funny, I haven't noticed exactly WHAT she's growing, but I sure as hell have noticed her.

She is, as you might guess, chesty. Not Pam Anderson or Anna Nicole Smith Preternaturally Chesty, but certainly ample. In fact, she's not extremely gorgeous or anything but, hey, if she flauntin' it, I'm watching it. And, although I caught her this morning in some annoying, not particularly revealing "biking wear," as she was leaving on her bike as she checked her mini-garden, she usually wears some revealing clothes.

I watch her from my deck. As she bends over to garden, I hope and pray for a little nippage. So far, to no avail.

(Which reminds me. This apartment building has a very "Rear Window-ish" set-up and I keep hoping to see a naked woman. I saw a naked man. Which doesn't cut the mustard. And my WIFE saw a naked woman. Talk about God having a sense of humor.)

I like to formulate little stories behind the people I see regularly but will probably never really get to know. And I'll admit, some of the stories I come up with are... Well, twisted. I'm sure that comes as a shock.

One day, a friend of mine came over and we were on the deck smoking and we saw Chesty appear. (In fact, that's when I dubbed her "Chesty Lareau.") I told my friend the story: One day, she was gardening, and I heard a guy's voice. She went over by him and didn't return to her garden, at least on my "watch," that day. One day previously, I was going up my back steps when she was gardening and she said, "hello" in an exceptionally friendly voice.

So, putting these two facts together, I surmised that she was a slutty gardener, out there displaying her wares in the hopes of bangin' guys. I figured she went off and banged that guy on that one fine day.

So I have minuscule evidence and I run with it to concoct a story that tit-illates me. (I love the word "titillate," by the way!)

I told my wife this story and she seemed a little perturbed. She said the guy was probably her boyfriend, as she has been seen gardening with some guy a couple times. I never took the effort to notice if it was the same guy each time but, of course, I surmise that it was not.

My friend, who seemed to nod and go along with my own Story of Chesty Lareau, was male.

It's the little things in life that make it worth living. And one, for me, is my own personal Chesty Lareau.



Now Charlie got titan goose bumps

o'er hot chicks' shoes touching his stump.

He'd ply 'em with booze

to fuck their worn shoes

(gives new meaning to the word "pumps").



Lawyers in Florida are launching a PR campaign to improve the public image of lawyers.


Here's an idea that should improve the public image of lawyers: All of you get together and get jobs in another field!...

Keeping watch on the misuse of the word "terrorist," and all its forms, leading to the eventual rendering of the term as meaningless:

One of the crimes Allen Iverson, the basketball star suddenly showing violent and crazy tendencies (surprise surprise), is charged with is "terroristic threats."

Really? He threatened to destroy a free-thinking nation of infidels along the way, too?



O! What a festival of, er... thoughts (of one sort or another) we have gathered here today:

>    Congratulations, John, and keep up the work...errr, the  GOOD work.  I enjoy >reading your stuff, even if I can't repeat any of it in  mixed company.    


>Everything has been thought of before, but the problem is to  think of it again. -Goethe

Yes. Goethe checking in again. Maybe I should put something about his fanship in that press release I was talking about.

But, anyway, just what IS "mixed company" anyway? I hear it often said by men, connotating "when women are present."

But there are women present in the Daily Limerick community.

Daily Limerick community? Can I get grants with language like that?

Anyway, perhaps it could mean "children." Because, well, we don't have any children in the Daily Limerick community.

Perhaps that's because it takes a village.


Oh well, here's Nutley in L.A. spouting off:

>HAPPPPPPY uh ..... anniversary!!!!

Which reminds me, we need a better word for this celebration of... hmm... UNIQUE proportions.

Declare July 12 National Limerick Appreciation day. Or somethin'. St. Sloop's day?

I don't think I'll make sainthood, however. Sorry to disappoint you.

But thanks for the well-wishing.



A chick who was wonderf'lly stacked

worked shifts selling clothes, back to back.

Her taste wa'n't so hot--

but male shoppers she got

who'd buy anything off The Rack.



George Michael spouted off and said quite a few things about America today. None of them good. In some sort of interview or something.

Now, I have my own problems with modern America, but I don't think Mr. Michael put a whole lotta thought into this. He basically spouted off the typical (and now quite fashionable, in a European manner) liberal stuff about how we shouldn't be involved in Afghanistan and that America is scary, blah blah blah.

For the millionth time, nothing wrong with being liberal. Just with spouting off some party line without thinking and acting like you've had some epiphany or something.

Especially coming from a guy who... Well, quite frankly, should be glad anybody's interviewing him anymore.

This causes a backlash, naturally. Which upsets Mr. Michael, well, because, who'd have thought, at a time like this, that folks wouldn't take kindly to pot shots at America and Americans?

And of course, he sees quite clearly the name of what is to blame for this backlash, and we can all guess what that is:


That's what he said.

Makes perfect sense to... well, to George Michael.




A girlie who loved Lynyrd Skynyrd

drank much on a date out for dinner.

Soon this drunk white trash

was nailed in the ass

and felt quite a squirt in her innards.



I've been letting my mind run into disturbing territory lately.

A while back I read somewhere, something written by someone, lamenting that on TV these days, the advertising was better written and more creative than the actual programming.

Concerning this theory, I discarded it immediately: "Naw, that's ridiculous--can't be true." But now I wonder if that was just wishful thinking, kinda how folks go into denial initially over life's heaviest traumas.

The other day it hit me as I watched a commercial that was clever. Now I hate advertising as much as (and probably more than) the next guy, but occasionally I have to admit that a commercial is actually good. And then I thought about it some more, and came up with more examples of "good" ads. And I tried to think of the last time I was hit over the head with a "that's clever!" hammer for a sitcom and...

This is truly frightening. That's all I have to say.



A hermit who watched porn a lot

can "Name that Porn Star" by her twat.

He whacks like a nut

o'er each porno slut

(claims he's found his "DVD Spot").



Although Big Oil has moved into Nigeria, there are still curiously few jobs available to Nigerians.

And a group of Nigerian women is banding together to protest this situation. They're even threatening to pull out the big guns and use an especially desperate protest technique:


In Nigeria, this shames people, to see their women naked, and often it gets results.

I hope this spreads.

C'mon, women of the U.S.! Take it from me, we're lacking in jobs right now!...

There's going to be a movie about the famous spy, Mata Hari.

The main role will be played by Cate Blanchett.

Now, I have to admit I'm a little ignorant concerning the story of Mata Hari. But, judging by her name and the pictures I've seen, she seems to be of Middle Eastern stock.

Cate Blanchett is a blonde.

This is Diversity in Hollywood.



>    -"Declare July 12 National Limerick Appreciation  day. Or somethin'. St. Sloop's

> day?"   Isn't May 12  already Limerick Day?  At least it's Limerick's  Birthday...


>Everything has been  thought of before, but the problem is to think of it again. -Goethe 

May 12? Limerick Day? I didn't know this. And is it the birthday of the town of limerick or the verse form?

I'm woefully uneducated on these matters. But I think July 12 makes a better National Limerick Day. Although May 12 is exactly one week before my birthday. That should mean something or other, in a supernatural way, I think.



A slumber party, my wife letting

me hang--watch chick flicks in that setting--

left me a' day dreamin'

of pumpin' and creamin'

in my own film, "Her Best Friend's Bedding."



Ah, the "Personals" section of the classified ads!

Today, I read an ad from a woman who offers to pray for you, if you simply write her via a P.O. box.

Speaks for itself...

There was a frightening double-page ad in my newspaper yesterday, placed by the Family Federation for World Peace and Unification Intl.

I'm not exactly sure what it was about. It had something to do with "parenting." (I'm often drawn in by stupid and/or boring things for fun-making purposes, but this went too far.) It included quotes from a variety of religions' holy books. And included a letter from "God."

Evidently, the world is running so smoothly that he has plenty of time to whip out a letter for FFWPU to run in an ad that maybe three people will actually read...

Glancing over the radio listings yesterday, I came across a new term.

Just what the hell "adult alternative"? Elevator versions of Nirvana?



On yesterday's theme, with in keeping

as onward the night started creeping.

I dreamed of a blessing:

All there were undressing

and then we filmed, "While You Were Bleeping."



You'll notice that the above limerick continues where yesterday's left off.

Serial limericks. Will the limerick innovation ever end?...

There's a big controversy brewing about Army men using government credit cards to pay for lap dances.

As far as I'm concerned, since I'm a taxpayer, and I pay Army salaries, I'm perfectly okay with this.

If you're willing to live a life constantly around men, not to mention putting your life on the line for our rights--which are in turn used for such nefarious purposes as the Daily Limerick--I say go ahead!

Have a lap dance on me!

Your opinions of my opinions aside, you gotta admit you won't find too many media outlets that would proclaim "Have a lap dance on me!"



And now, a timely reminder from the Goethe quoting guy:

>    May 12  is Ed Lear's Birthday.  And mine.

Get your party plans in motion! Only  298 days to go!



A softball team put in its B string

'cause all starting girls got bad bee stings.

They kept switching teams

'til fans let out screams

when they did get down to the G string.



I read the other day about corporate "trusting" retreats being held at these BMW racetracks. And also in the Grand Canyon. And tons of other places.

Why do companies not have enough money to hire the legions of unemployed right now? Can somebody tell me?

Anyway, a part of these "trusting" retreats includes blindfolding. For instance, in the BMW races, the driver will be blindfolded while one of his/her co-workers steers, or something. I guess this teaches you to blindly trust your co-workers, whether they be cooking the books, shredding documents, etc.

The frightening thing is, well, I experienced this in alcohol rehab over a decade ago. (No need to go into details.) It was a pointless exercise there and, to be honest, I had to recover from all they taught me in rehab before I recovered.

But I guess this shows that corporate bigwigs view employees in pretty much the same way drug and alcohol rehabs view their inmates.

Why is the economy falling apart? Anyone?



There one was a police inspector

bugged a house with mirrors and reflectors.

The suspect so bugged

was quite amply jugged

so surveillance proved an erector.



A logic rule of the bikini:

as one does get more and more teeny

the viewer, is cursed

with law of inverse--

as it shrinks, growth comes in the weenie.



A girl hit the slopes in no coat

and thus got as sick as a goat.

Her gruff ski instructor

then orally fucked her

to shoot out the frog in her throat.



A stripper who got many squeals

from her fave stilletos' appeal

found her best shoes worn

one day, felt forlorn

for it seems that time wounds all heels.



A girl selling franks in the sun

in shorts was a visage that'd stun.

Many bought from her cart

as they wished in their heart

they could nestle one into HER buns.


SLAPPIN' AND YAPPIN' 7/20-7/24/2002:

For those of you who are concerned that America is about to merge into one big corporation we'll all have to work for, here's some good news:

AOL/Time-Warner announced it has to "divide" itself further. There's just no way it can handle running everything on the number of CEOs it currently has.

Points harkening the existence of God, 1; points harkening the existence of Satan, 0...

If I were some ridiculously famous, groupie-laden entertainer, I'd put myself together a Sexual Sampler Platter.

It would include: A Mediterranean (Italian?) white woman; a buck white woman (Irish?); A semi exotic white woman (far East Russian?); a black woman; a Latina or two (Mexican, Puerto Rican, Peruvian?); an Asian or two (Japanese/Korean, perhaps a South Asian one); an Eskimo; a Middle Easterner, etc.

But I wouldn't only implement my affirmative action program based on race. There'd be a ridiculously tall one; another that was short and "fun-size"; an artsy one; a snooty, clothes-conscious one; a red-head; etc.

Just thought I'd let you know. Might come in handy for ya'.



A bi-cur'ous fellow named Hyatt

went off to a gay bar to try it.

Most say he looks great--

today, he's lost weight

thanks to his new high-protein diet.



Halle Berry's husband is now in "treatment" for... Oh, this is so fuckin' silly I almost feel like this isn't real--somebody picked it up off the Onion Web site and somehow THOUGHT it was real.

He's in "treatment" for "sex addiction." Lotta quotes there but, then again, a lot of reason for them.

So I guess it works like this: You fuck up, give in to the animal part of your nature, bang some groupie, and your wife finds out. You declare "sex addiction" and PRESTO! Everything's okay.

Sex addiction. I'm gonna go giggle uncontrollably for a while.



There once was a girlie named Dina

who has the world's tightest vagina.

After a sex bout

you'd whip your cock out

squeezed down like a needle of pine-a!



Exhibit A: Why many Eastern spiritual leaders (Hindu/Buddhist) despise the idea of Westerners taking on their religion(s):

I read, for the first time, one of those annoying personal ads that began, "Thanks to Buddha..." for prayers answered or whatever the hell.

This is supposed to be within the realms of Christian Stupidity only. You know, nitwits somehow assume that Jesus/God/St. Jude, whoever, regularly peruse the personal ads in every paper in the world.

Funny how, no matter how stupid people seem to get, I am now and then still shocked at the level of boneheadism we can attain when we put our ass to it.



>I'm addicted to pussy, myself.


>I like feeding the stray kittens next door.



I'll ignore the idea of using "clever" word play to confuse vagina and a feline.

But, well, what heterosexual man ISN'T addicted to pussy? But that doesn't give me open season on nailing every chick I can seduce behind my wife's back anymore than it gives me the right to just bend over every hot dame I see walking down the street.

You've got HALLE BERRY, you asswipe!

Perhaps there's more to the story. Perhaps Halle never puts out or something but... Then you'd have a much better excuse than "sex addiction." Kinda like Hugh Grant who, I suspect, didn't get regular knob washes from Elizabeth Hurley.

Ah, but I don't know all the particulars. I only know that "sex addiction" is one of the greatest scams in the history of mankind, along with bottled water.



A scatter-brained groupie named Jilly

found one three-man band rather silly.

Though they gave her creeps

with them, she did sleep

(they gave her two kinds of The Willies).



North Korea sent a letter of apology to South Korea over the recent marine warfare excursion.

A letter.

Not an e-mail. Not a call on the South Korean president's hotline.

A letter.

Good to see we have American Communists! What a successful system that is?



That hot little blonde in No Doubt

has caused quite a buzz all about.

Although she can sing

if we met, my thing

would seek to get snug in her pout.



Does today's limerick make sense to you? "Pout" meaning, of course, Gwen's lips, wrapped around... er, well, you know... which would naturally give them a pouty appearance... and I'd hope she'd play up the pout and... oh well...

I was in a Borders yesterday. We were showing some young relatives around downtown--you know, where the natives never go unless its for work purposes--and we stopped in for coffee, to waste time, etc. I found something especially disturbing:

People squatting all over the place in the aisles.

Now I suppose this is supposed to be some great, democratic, everybody-welcome atmosphere. And I sorta have to commend that, I suppose. But I find it disturbing, somehow. People floppin' all over, not buying anything, always in your way when you want to look at a certain section.

I don't know. It just disturbs me.



A super shy trav'ler named Jervis

placed a midnight call to room service.

Dialed one digit off--

soon a whore he'd boff

and since he's not been quite so nervous



I just read today that Shakira has landed an advertising deal with Pepsi.

Geez. It doesn't take long for a "World Artist" to become "assimilated" anymore, does it?

Does anybody else long for a return to the good ol' days, when artists' doing commercials were considered "washed up" and not worthy of being taken seriously anymore?...

Well, you've read (or ignored) this column's tales of the woman I've dubbed "Chesty Lareau," who gardens in revealing outfits, much to my delight, and whom I've constructed a whole slutty "history" for, based on very little fact.

Well, I am now proud to welcome to my Voyeuristic Deck... The New Chesty Lareau!

I'd like to say "The New and IMPROVED Chesty Lareau," but it's a mixed bag.

She's better looking than the original, but she doesn't quite flaunt it as much. She seems a tad bit uppity, but that's just a facade in my little realm (I haven't touched on her "history" yet).

Actually, I'm thinking as I type this that it's not very nice to just call her "The New Chesty Lareau." After all, this is a new gardener--the original Chesty didn't get a makeover or anything. And this new lady needs a name of her own, or else she'll forever be dodging the shadow of CL within my twisted little milieu.

Hmm. I need to think on this a second (to get a "real time" feel for S&Y, go grab a beverage or something, come back and read my result).

Okay, she's now officially "Perky Prissbudget."

It'll have to do.



The nickname "Eggs Benny" sure clicked

with Ben, an old farmer of chicks

thanks to dames he duped

to his chicken coup

where they were soon "Eggs Benny-dicked."



When I worked at the Daily News of Los Angeles, I was the guy appointed to type in the comedy listings. I was always amused by the PR packages comedians would send to us. Especially amusing was the listing of credits from appearances in films and TV shows.

I suppose, on some level, one can argue that these types of credits show "professionalism" or, at least on some level, the ability of somebody to be funny. But in my opinion, there isn't necessarily a direct correlation.

Doing stand-up comedy is a combination of two things: Writing and performing. When someone appears on a show or in a movie, they are probably doing lines and characters cooked up by somebody else. For instance, if Freddy Funny appears in a Mel Brooks movie and he's funny, it doesn't necessarily translate that I'll like his stand-up because, well, he had Mel's words in his mouth when he was making me laugh.

Now, if a comedian sent in a package that also included writing credits (which I rarely saw), that would be more sensible.

I saw an ad for "Zanies" recently. It's the best-known Chicago comedy club and they run regular ads trumpeting upcoming appearances. Each comedian is usually bolstered by his or her TV/film credits (so, I guess I'm in the minority about my opinion on these credits).

One, Walt Willey, was plugged as coming from "All My Children."

Now, perhaps I should clarify what I wrote above: An argument can be made that movie and TV show appearances are an asset to a comedian if THE SHOWS/FILMS ARE COMEDIC IN NATURE.

It would mean more to me to read that Walt Willey's mother thinks he's funny.

Or are they going for the hard-up, stay-at-home housewife crowd?



A barmaid told this cat, "No smoking"

in L.A.--he thought she were joking.

He said "You're not whole

'til you smoke some pole"

and on his pipe, she was soon choking.



Extra celebrity stupidity in the news today:

Sammy Sosa, currently filling the role of The One Superstar the Cubs Must Have at All Times so Fans Barely Notice That the Team Will Never, Ever be a Winning One, is pushing for more Cubs night games because he thinks the extreme daytime heat is causing the Cubs to lose.

So, considering the fact that the opposing team is also subject to this daytime heat, am I missing something? Are most of the Cubs Norsemen who are especially addled by heat? Isn't Sammy from the Dominican Republic?

Or are all other teams in MLB wearing air-conditioned uniforms?...

Martin Lawrence is blaming all of his crazy public outbursts on pot.

Hmm. The average guy who smokes pot sits on the couch and listens to tunes. But, somehow, due to some strange, preternatural chemistry, the substance reacts with Martin Lawrence (and apparently only Martin Lawrence) as a stimulant as opposed to a depressant...

I read some tips from "experts" in nutrition or whatever today who suggest eating with your off hand in order to decrease your calorie intact.

Makes perfect sense in a world that believes sky-high cigarette taxes are the best way to cut down on smoking. Despite the fact that it's not the fucking government's business anyway.

How long until we can call the government our "personal trainer"?



>Hmm... I always thought soap operas *were* comedy. :)

I don't know if accidental comedy counts. Although, if George W. would've toured after choking on the pretzel, it might have proved a popular act.

And, in regards to my comments about Willey, the comedian advertised as coming from "All My Children," namely:

>[A]re they going for the hard-up, stay-at-home housewife crowd?

This Foul-Mouthed Bastard checks in with:


> No. They don't care. That dude will bring in more people than a real comic, because people 'know' him.


> Showbiz is all about name recognition. It's why Robin Williams can still get an HBO special even if he hasn't been funny for years.


> More people will leave the house to watch comedy performed by someone they recognize (even if that person isn't known for being part of a funny show) than they would to see someone with comedy credentials out the wazoo.


> C'mon... you know that. I think you were just running short of slappin and yappin topics.

Yes, I know that. This was just the first time I saw a comic plugged with non-comedic movie/TV credits.

Seems to me that "All My Children" would be a better plug for a Performance Artist, but what do I know. What do WE know?

Ah, to be a "Performance Artist." You don't have to make people laugh (comic); don't have to be pithy or have some semblance of form (poet/spoken word artist). You just sing a show tune and shove an onion in your butt.

And you can get grants for it!


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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, twice! 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!

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