Daily Limerick
Archives: June 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 took home a social climber

who turned out to be a first-timer.

He threw in a porn

he mimicked 'til morn

and gave her one hell of a primer!



The apartment building I live in has this very funny "No Smoking Policy" that's given to tenants with their lease and such. It mentions that this policy is in place in all common areas, including hallways (sensible) and decks (ridiculously non-sensible, not to mention that, since each apartment has its own deck, not even "common areas").

I am one of a multitude of residents who openly ignore this fascist rule.

But I was thinking yesterday how odd it is that we ARE allowed to barbecue on our decks.

So here's the deal: The maximum diameter of a cigar I've lit on my deck would be, maybe, and I'm guessing big here, 3/4 of an inch. Our barbecue grill is about 18 inches in diameter.

So, from this little situation which happens to be telling of an overall societal trend, can anybody make a legitimate argument that the "War on Smokers" is anything less than a manifestation of the human need to have SOME minority group to push around?



One dinner time at the von Schlessings

young Timmy was to give God blessings

he said, "There's a ton

but my fav'rite one

was seein' the neighbor undressing."



Twelve Burger King executives suffered burns serious enough to warrant medical attention at a "Team Building" retreat.

A horrible hot oil vat gone wrong? Fire season out West, you ask?

Nope. They were walking barefoot on coals. And this M.O. is not unique to BK's "Team Building" retreats.

So, why are we in a recession right now wherein companies can't afford to hire all the unemployed? The terrorists attacks, of course. Plus dumb luck.

Yeah. That's why.



A man, during sex that got hot,

asked his wife to lower her twat

down onto his vine

while he did recline

(turns out, she just didn't know squat).



USA Weekend this Sunday had some sort of little shameless Hollywood ass-kissing blurb on actor Edward Burns. The piece claimed that Burns "has a weakness for supermodels."

How very, very strange. I mean, can you imagine? Being attracted to supermodels? Unthinkable...

I also saw a piece in the Sunday's paper about how airlines are adding little luxuries in an attempt to woo more business. Rocking chairs in the waiting areas. Charts for simple, as-you-sit yoga by your seat.

Why not try working with the Feds to come up with a security system where you're not hassled for two hours by folks with the IQ of rocks making your grandmother take off her shoes while letting be-turbaned folks with terrorist backgrounds waltz on in?

Or should we feel that it's worth it to put up with two hours of incompetent security so we can relax in the rocking chair as our flight is delayed... delayed again... delayed...

I was reading this local story yesterday about the successful prosecution of some fraternity boys for sending a new pledge to the hospital (complete with ruptured kidney). Seems they beat him with paddles.

Where on earth did the studly, lady-killing image of frat boys come from?...

Man, the Sunday paper was a mine field (interpret that metaphor as you will). I also saw this in-depth report about how cell phone costs are going through the roof. You see, not long ago, I knew a bunch of people who were replacing their home phones with the annoying, omnipresent devices, claiming that it was cheaper.

When will we learn. It's kinda like the big bookstore chains: They move in, everybody goes ga-ga over their low, low prices, soon the independents are out of the way and then... WHAM! No more reason to go ga-ga over the prices.



A rookie groupie, still quite bland

went to see a hot local band.

When lucky young Paige

was ushered backstage

she gave the bass player a hand.



I'm not a regular watcher of "That '70s Show." Despite the generic name that makes you want to hate it, I have found it a fairly decent show when I have seen it.

There's a character on the show, the girlfriend to somebody or other, who is, well... Fat. Super-sized.

But, rather than use this character to bring a role to a Super-Sized American who's undoubtedly having a rough time of it in Hollywood, they give the role to Cynthia LaMontagne who is, well, a flat-bellied, fabulous babe. And they give her a fat suit.

Don't wanna put too much weight on the casting couch...

I've been researching publications recently as my current plan, until the economy finally crawls, covered with shit, out of the toilet, is making more money off freelance writing, something that's merely supplemented my income for some time.

I picked up Maxim and Stuff and FH recently and have read through them. The writing is better than I expected (style-wise, anyway). But I'm still a little disturbed by the idea of second-hand porn when, for a few bucks more, you can see chicks every bit as hot showing off the key areas (but lacking the "celebrity factor").

What disturbs me most is the sections of fashion (which aren't heavily read in any heterosexually-themed men's magazine) and the advertisements for stuff like men's facial emollients.

GQ and similar pubs have always had the problem that, well... They might as well be called HGQ ("H" standing for "Homosexual"). Of course, I have to throw in the obligatory "ain't nothin' wrong with that" here, but straight men don't (and, quite frankly, shouldn't) care about fashion and moisturizers.

So I guess the REAL point of mags like Maxim is fooling advertisers. They lure us in with mostly naked pics of Jennifer Love Hewitt and hoodwink some ad grunts into thinking we'll actually shell out for a men's pedicure kit.

Which some will, undoubtedly. But most will also be picking up a Playgirl on the same bill.



Now bangin' a stripper's the goal

of Freddy, who might sell his soul.

While stuffin' the bills

imagines those skills

worked dancing on a different pole.



Short and bittersweet today because the content calls for it:

Now there is finally one item--a physical item you can hold in your hand--that represents everything that is wrong with America and the Dark Side of Capitalism:

The Bank One's Walk Disney Visa card...

While it continues on the annoying Hollywood trends of a) re-makes and b) destroying cartoons through live action, there is one good reason to catch the Scooby Doo movie: Sara Michelle Gellar in those thigh-high boots.

So I'll go easy on theater-goers with this one. At least as long as you can prove your heterosexuality and/or lesbianism.



A starlet, quite new to porn flicks

jumped right in to film anal tricks

which pissed off her peers

and killed her career--

ruined by orifice politics.



Hey! Remember that nutrod who was trying to draw a smiley face via the pipe bombings of mailboxes across the Midwest?

Take a moment. Oh... Yeah.

Great way to bring your agenda to the forefront so that people are constantly talking about your views, no?



It was a rough week--to get through it

day-dreamt of Jennifer Love Hewitt

in states of undress,

but, 'spite her success,

in my dreams she, frankly, well, "blew it."



Advanced Warning: Kevin Richardson, one of the Backstreet Boys, is now engaging in activism (concerning the environmental impact of mountaintop mining).

Britney, Cristina, N'Syncers and Aaron Carter can't be far behind.

Now THIS is the type of thing I'd approve of Alec Baldwin threatening to move over...

The City of Chicago thwarted the plans of Terrapin Station (a Grateful Dead tribute band--or something like it, as it includes former Dead members) to play in a local park.

This must be a mixed blessing to these guys. On one hand, it sucks that you'd be denied a permit to play. On the other hand, they gotta be pumped, at least a little, over the fact that somebody is still convinced enough of their "badness" to ban their aging, funky asses at this point in time...

As part of S&Y's commitment to keep you abreast of all mis-uses (and thus cheapenings) of the word "terrorism"... The man in Utah whose daughter was kidnapped this week described it as being "like a terrorist attack."

Now, of course, it's not nice to make fun of the guy, as things aren't going so well for him right now. But I'm not fun-making as much as keeping tabs on the mis-uses of this word. (And I'm pretty sure he's not a DL subscriber.) Terrorists do not, as a rule, have sexual motives (unless you consider keeping women in potato sack clothing and barefoot and pregnant "sexual")...

I read this interview with Jennifer Love Hewitt and it asked, "What's the strangest thing you've ever put in your mouth."

Hmm... I'll avoid the easy off-color joke here.

Anyway, it was a JELLYFISH. She also said that jellyfish tastes like potato chips.

I'll confess: This is all part of some in joke. Me and Mike, who's a subscriber (and, it seems, an occasional reader) dreamed up some silly plot by this fat, obnoxious comic in L.A. to take over the world--and enlist jellyfish toward that end.

Days later, somebody in So Cal was bitten by a jellyfish. They swarmed the swimmers--something that happens in reality but is rather rare.

Enough of this!



A religious fellow got tush--

she cried out when inward he pushed.

She had gonorrhea

but this man did see'a

a sign from God--a Burning Bush!



I walked into something out of a fairy tale today.

Me and the wife were a'walkin' around the neighborhood and we stopped into this little clothing/accessory/trinket shop and discovered that it is...


Yes. It was being run by a threesome o' fabulous babes. Whilst we were shopping, a friend of the owners (or whoever they are) entered and she, too, was a fabulous babe.

Follow me, young grasshopper, to the Fabled Shop of Babes Ever Full.



A starlet's porn stage name at least should

prompt thoughts in the hearer of greased wood.

That's why the young lady

--nee, Sally McGrady--

is now known to most as "Clit Eastwood."



Had a Jolt cola today.

The mom 'n' pop corner store carries Jolt-in a variety of flavors, I might add.

Any other Jolt fans out there?

Well, I don't know if I'm a Jolt fan proper. I enjoy it occasionally. I think, right now, I mostly enjoy the idea of it. But I do occasionally enjoy that gritty kinda cola flavor.

Last I saw it was... Somewhere Midwesternly located and North of Green Bay.

Jolt cola.

This is not a commercial. Jolt, in fact, tastes shitty. But for me, that sometimes has an appeal.



This comment comes in regarding the Jule 7 edition:

>Watch out for those jellyfish -- there's a time for peace, and a time for man-o-war.

Are you felling okay? You're looking pike-ed.


And, in this case, the same joker refers to yesterday's edition--this time, he's on the ball (whereas the day before, I believe he was one TWO balls most of the day, which would go a long way toward explaining things).



An easy dame--in fact a cinch

had a funny ass--like a finch.

But still that young slut

and her funky butt

does nicely for those in a pinch.



I briefed over a story today about Sonya Fitzpatrick, a "pet psychic" on Animal Planet. She gives some tips for contacting your own dead pets. Here's one of them: "Imagine your animal is sending you an answer and accept whatever you receive in your imagination." She's big on this imagination thing, too. Another tip begs you to "trust your imagination."

Okay, now, all S&Y readers can witness me contacting me deceased cat, Harley...

Hold on...

It's coming...

(I'm fostering the illusion of time passing in text, if you haven't figured that out yet.)...

Hold on...

I received a message! "That Sonya Fitzpatrick is a nutrod of grand proportions. You can't contact me!"

Well. There you have it.



A smelly-crotched hippie named Belzer

has one foul cooch, but no one tells her.

Friends talk 'hind her back

but all have a knack

for clamming when somebody smells her.



I often peruse the "massage" ads in the sports section of my daily newspaper. I do the same thing with the "adult" ads in my local weeklies. Not because I'm a consumer of such services but because... Well, it titillates me. I don't know if this is specifically a "guy thing" but I've known quite a few others who feel the same way. Folks who've spent hours reading over the adult ads, getting a little turned on, only to... Well, not order any services. It's not even that we ever truly intend to. But, even when I was a lonely, single guy, it just served my purposes to read the damn things.

One that's been running in the Chicago Sun-Times lately just says, "Gorgeous and Dumb." Other than a phone number, that's it.

This leads into a larger phenomenon: guys who are attracted to dumb chicks.

I've never understood this. But not only have I heard guys admit to it--the simple fact that so many women out there in bars "act dumb" can only mean that the tactic works.

It's possible that I'm just as guilty of the "dumb" fetish and I don't realize it. I don't necessarily go home every time some woman is a little flirty with me and analyze why I did or didn't find her attractive. But I do recall going out with an 18-year-old when I was finally getting around to earning my college degree, when I happened to be about 27.

Although physically this woman incited fierce lust in me, I recall having lunch with her and thinking, "God--if I had to make conversation with her on a regular basis, it would be a very rough undertaking." Well, my thoughts probably weren't so eloquent. And, although I think she did act a little dumber than she was, it wasn't her intelligence in this case as much as her world knowledge--the years from 18 to 27 are very long ones, learning wise.

However, had she asked me to bang her up in the bathroom, there would have been no pause in my response of "Hell yes!"

So perhaps the "dumb thing" is a turn-on in a one-night-stand, pure lust kinda way. It can't really be a plus in a relationship. Can it?...

It would seem to me that World Cup Soccer is about national pride.

Well, of course, it's supposed to be about sportsmanship and the brotherhood of mankind but, well, take a look at most of the world's soccer fans.

Russian fans rioted, damaging businesses and injuring people, after Russia's recent loss to Japan. (Russia is by no means being singled out here--it just provides one example of what most soccer-loving countries' fans engage in.)

So, out of anger over your country's loss, you turn around and destroy some of your country's businesses.

I, for one, am thankful that Americans don't love soccer so much...

And now, fans, for a free, invisible, Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin' sweatshirt (yes, that's much higher quality than the last giveaway's T-shirt): What celebrity babe has been featured in the most limericks in Daily Limerick? It may be a tricky one!



The Man Who is A Day behind checks in, regarding S&Y from 6/9:

>When I was a kid, I made the mistake of drinking an entire six-pack of Jolt

>cola. I ended up upstairs cleaning my room at 2 a.m. Apparently I was making

>a lot of noise, 'cause dad yelled upstairs for me to go to bed. I had come

>home at midnight, been hit by the idea of cleaning up some of the clutter,

>and suddenly, two hours pass without me realizing.


>And I woke up with a soda hangover. That shit's deadly.

Ever have a Jolt 45?

And here he is, checking in with a timely manner:

>What a catty reply!

Oh! You're just bein' a puss.



A chick gave this fellow a free shot

at finding her elusive G-Spot.

He worked his damn Johnson

but she's from Wisconsin

so all he could find was her Brie-Spot.



A U.S. military mission in Afghanistan has been named "Apache Snow II."

The original Apache Snow was an operation in Vietnam.

Somebody's asleep at the wheel over in the Pentagon...

I just read last week's "Savage Love" (my source is the Chicago Reader) and I realized...

You have to SELF-CENSOR your e-mail if you're on AOL?

Somebody, ANYBODY, give me one good reason why ANYONE would use AOL!



Been thinkin', again, 'bout Beyonce

those dream: If she gave me a chance-a...

I'd sit down, ker-plop

and pull her on top

and tell her to wiggle and bounce-a.



Who in the hell reads the "Jobs" columns in the newspaper?

I'm asking because every Thursday, the Chicago Sun-Times runs its columns by "jobs experts." These columns, if you've never perused one, fill you in with such expert advice as "the economy is bad," "spell check your resume" and "dress nicely for interviews."

If you need these tips, well... Maybe you should just give up. Find yourself a sugar daddy/mommy or, if you're hopelessly unattractive, spill some coffee in your lap at McDonald's or otherwise set yourself up with a questionable lawsuit.

And who the hell gets these kinda gigs? As a marginally employed writer myself, I'm again offering to put a limerick or Slappin' and Yappin' in a useless spot (this goes for the horoscopes and other expendables as well). Assuming anybody needs this advice whatsoever, you only need about three jobs columns anyway--fire whoever you've got doing it and just re-run the few columns in perpetuity. Maybe you can keep a couple "special columns" on the side--for instance, one for a lousy economy, another for a thriving economy, one for people seeking the extra "holiday" jobs. Things change, but this advice-for-boneheads is always the same.

Really. I'm serious here. Wouldn't you rather see a limerick right before the classifieds?



If Lincoln watched porno instead

that night, much too young, was shot dead

he would've survived

in some sleazy dive

a "shot" to the back of the head.



A recent study finds that, during a 10 minute conversation, 60 percent of people lie.

This is why I'm the strong, silent type. Or at least the silent type.

This probably doesn't take into account deceptions, ala "How are you?" When people ask questions like that, they generally don't really care and are in fact appalled if you do answer. Try it some time...

Fox News last night, referring to some development in the case of the missing Smart girl in Utah, referred to her relatives as "Extended Members of the Family."

Authorities were only focusing on the really tall Smart family members, I guess.



Now Fred sure liked women a bunch

and often had pussy for lunch.

One thing you can say-

kept his boss away

(Fred's breath packed one hell of a punch).



Word has it that Britney Spears has found another man! The ridiculously famous... Er, the non-obscure... Well, damnit, some guy I've never heard of, from a Boy Band I've never heard of!

Hmm. Another Boy Band-er...

Certain women, celebrities, that is, seem to get stuck in their own teen era and go for these men who, no matter how washed-up they get, are always as attractive and in-demand as they once were.

First, it was chicks falling for bad metal band members, as these dames were stuck in the past, mentally.

So we have a glimpse of the future for Britney:

Pam Anderson. Only substitute Boy Band-ers for bad metal losers.

Refreshing, isn't it?



Al'd never gave pussy a lickin'

'til one day, in marathon dickin'

dame said, "I ain't cummin'--

so give me a hummin'"

he found it did NOT taste like chicken.



Another update on the Pussification of America:

Toby Keith has a song, "Courtesy of the Re, White and blue (The Angry American)," which is a post-9/11, patriotic, kick-terrorist-ass kinda song that has, not surprisingly, become rather popular lately. It was to be played live to kick off some sort of special show, I believe for the 4th of July.

Since it contains lyrics about putting a boot up some terrorist's ass, Peter Jennings decided it was not appropriate.

As a further insult, Peter Jennings is a Canadian.

Everybody curtsy!



Now Rosy had seen many shrinks

'cause after a couple of drinks

she'd get so damn kinky

hard-fuckin' friend Pinky

could not even bang out the kinks.



Most of us have a handful of old TV shows and/or cartoons and/or books that we are true fans of. Inevitably, it seems, some shmuck in Hollywood with no new ideas of his or her own decides to make this old TV show/cartoon/book into a Big Screen Extravaganza.

Incidents of these Extravaganzas perfectly capturing the spirit of the original work are about as rare as unaltered breasts in Playboy. However, many fans find it difficult, psychologically, to bash an attempt to "Extravanganza-tize" their beloved show/cartoon/book and thus there is rarely much outcry over these cultural blasphemies.

I am here to say: Old TV show/cartoon/book fans, unite! Let's send a clear message to Hollywood to "Just Say No to Extravaganza-tizing of Our Beloved shows/cartoons/books."

I've been guilty of patronizing this crap myself in the past. But I put the primitive, dangerous urge in check regarding "Lord of the Rings." I loved the books, have my own vivid, mental picture of how everything would look and... Despite the initial urge to run right out and see the first flick, I thought, "Do I really need to see how Hollywood interprets Lord of the Rings?" After all, Tolkien's books work just fine by themselves and, quite honestly, I don't like the looks of the hobbits and other creatures from the little bits I have seen.

This isn't to say that I won't rent the thing. And I don't know how well I will battle the urge if I do rent the movie once a new one comes out on the big screen.

But I'm trying. And considering Hollywood is just about ready to give up on original stories altogether, it has never been more important that we question this urge to see beloved TV shows/cartoons/books destroyed on the "Silver" Screen.



This girl who would never stop yackin'

took home many men for the sackin'.

'Til man of her dreams

cleared her of all screams

by throw'n her a glor'ous fudge packin'.



Some sort of report, by some group of those elusive people who "study things" for a living, finds that the average child, after being told "no" (when asking parents to buy some item they just "have to have" 'cause their friends do or something) will "nag," asking again an average of 9 times.

Here's the frightening part: Fifty-five percent of kids report that they're usually successful with this nagging.

Now I'm not talking about child abuse here, but does it seem to anybody else that since we've went from a whack on the bottom to a wimpy "time out," school shootings and, when these brats grow up, office shootings have come into vogue because people have some how learned that they "deserve" whatever it is that they want and they have to have it NOW?...

Warner Brothers will be putting out another new movie featuring Loony Tunes characters.

Please. Do not blaspheme these once ingenious cartoons anymore. I beg of you. Put Bugs and the rest to rest.



A fetishist Daddy o' pimpin'

brought in a new whore, with a limpin'.

Some Johns were appalled--

her left foot was mauled--

but most found the right fine for shrimpin'.



A rather telling incident occurred today, saying a lot about the media, celebrity, the entertainment industry and more:

I was on the train, writing in my notebook. As a very, very occasional contributor to MAD Magazine, I send them a few ideas now and then, most of which they reject, but I keep plugging away at it because, over time, I've slowly, every so slowly gotten published in MAD as time has passed.

I was brainstorming for J-Lo ideas. I had read the other day that J-Lo was seeking to "up her marketing" and I was coming up with possible future J-Lo products.

I looked up and my line of sight happened to be upon the page of a magazine that was being read by a young lady.

I didn't catch the whole headline, but did make out, in huge, I mean HONKIN' HUGE letters: "J-LO."



>They should call the movie "What's up Crock? (of shit)"

Friz Freeling (SIC?) will be rolling in his grave when he sees the movie, asking, "What's up--schlock?"



An oft trav'lin' businessman, Grimes

banged one nubile chick in her prime

in every time zone

jet-lag he'd not known--

to him, it's always Mountin' Time.



I think I've mentioned before that I enjoy being a "Lewd and Crude Dude" now that I'm married. The theory here is that, before, when I was single, I was afraid to leer too long at a woman or anything because I didn't want to be seen as... Well, the Lewd and Crude Dude that I really am, considering that, when you're single, you want to keep every option open. But now that I don't have to worry about snagging women, I leer like a nut.

The other day I was driving downtown for certain reasons and I found that my Lewd and Crude Dude personality is actually getting worse. I gave a "thumbs up" to a hot little number (with hot little numbers) who was walking down the street.

Some may argue that, "Hey! You're a married man! You shouldn't be doing stuff like that!" But if you look at the reality here, number one, I gave the thumb and was gone, out of sight, in a couple seconds, so what could actually happen and, number two, what the hell kinda woman is turned on by a thumbs up from a guy in a slightly beat-up Nissan?...

Another thing I noticed concerning girl-watching in cars: SUVs suck in yet another manner. Sometimes, you're trying to check out a chick, she's almost fully in view, between the traffic and what-not... And some damn big-ass, long SUV pulls in front of her, ruining the chance to get a good glimpse and throw her in your ol' "Mental Rolodex Masturbation Machine."

Say. That's a topic for a whole 'nother S&Y...

And, and driving around in the car with the windows down, I was able to finally come to grips and celebrate my Homer Simpson-esque tastes in music. You see, I actually kinda like some of the Bad Company kinda '70s stuff. When the '70s was retro in the '90s, everybody focused on disco and the Homer-esque stuff just wasn't cool.

But now, perhaps because I've come more to grips with things, perhaps because the '70s aren't retro anymore.... Whatever the reason, now I'm celebrating the Homer Within, bobbin' my head along with the radio.



>I find your spelling of Fritz Freleng's name daffy.

Yes. And the thing is, I know I could've found the correct spelling among my "stuff" but I was lazy. And I'm sure that really Bugs you.



A studly French champ of the luge

would facial his chicks--like a rouge.

The place where he'd hang

to meet chicks to bang

was nicknamed "The Ol' Moulin Spooge."



If you don't think the Retro Nostalgia Marketing Scheme has went to far:

There are now two stations in Chicago that feature "'90s Shows."

Ahh, to return to the Halcyon days of two years ago.

This is actually life imitating "South Park." There's an episode in which they unfreeze a man from two years ago, wherein it proves difficult for this "caveman" to handle "modern" life.

We've already shown that reality can imitate MAD Magazine and, recently, The Onion. But "South Park"? This can't be a good sign...

As states' money for "tobacco prevention funds," aka "lawyer yacht/hooker funds"--won in the ridiculous tobacco company settlements because people can no longer be held accountable for their own actions--are going to pay for the incompetence of legislators, now comes word that Illinois, in using the brilliant technique of raising tobacco taxes to pay for their fiscal retardation, stands to lose millions because, surprise surprise, the draconian taxes are sending more and more smokers to the Internet.

In the end, perhaps stupidity does have repercussions...

There's a story by a woman in the latest Chicago Magazine that heaps praise on the whole idea of breast implants, in effect one long essay trying (in vain) to show that getting breast implants isn't a sign of low self esteem and the pinnacle of superficiality.

This proud woman is... Er, she uses a pseudonym...

Eminem blasts Moby on his latest release for, among other crimes, being bald, old (36, I think) and making techno music (only the latter is actionable, I believe).

Why didn't he touch on the fact that his selling of rights for commercials and such has rendered him the World's Most Famous Jingle Writer?



(Continuing our Loony Tunes punnery:)

>It doesn't bug me, but I do have an Avery-sion to it. :p

Ha ha. Very Fudd-y.



A nerd at a bar, rather loaded

was hit on but couldn't de-code it

but soon got the hint--

eyes lit, with a glint!--

when she hit her knees to deep-throat it.



What a marvelous and convenient coincidence for researchers!

Have you ever noticed that, whenever People Magazine or FH Magazine or E! Entertainment (and its show, appropriately titled "Rank") happens to do a list of, say, the "50 Sexiest People" or the "100 Hottest Women" or the "25 Most Eligible Bachelors"... The winners all happen to be those who appear on TV and/or movies regularly, making them easy for researchers to find?...

There's a new phenomenon I read about where little, little girls, instead of having their pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey parties and such, have big bashes with their friends at salons where they get their nails done, makeovers, etc.

Only in America.

Now if that doesn't put your new-found sense of patriotism in check, I don't know what will...

Circuit City, that God of Commercialism that other companies sees compelled to follow, is completely ending the practice of stocking VHS movies, opting to only sell DVDs.

So, let's see... We were hooked in by the low, low prices of these mega-companies... They put the smaller ones out of business... The prices, then, curiously weren't so low anymore... They go into cahoots (if you can "go into" cahoots--not sure of the terminology) with manufacturers, who invent technologies that nobody ever asked for...

And they leave a bunch of us stuck with VCRs and dozens (if not hundreds) of movies we were perfectly happy with.

Thanks, Circuit City.



A chick did find blow jobs a chore

and her boyfriend always'd implore:

the trick to oral sex is

quashing gag reflexes

(not just for porn stars anymore).



Recently, S&Y looked at the fact that Peter Jennings--a Canadian with serious problems understanding the point of America--was cracking down on an edgy, patriotic song by Toby Keith for a Fourth of July Special.

Now comes word that PBS' "A Capitol Fourth" is losing the participation of Charlie Daniels because there is some "problem" with lyrics for his song, "The Last Fallen Heroes."

What better way to celebrate America's birthday than with Entertainment Industry censorship?



Now Dick and Jane swapped acting tips

which caused Dick to almost do flips.

On stage, she seemed flirtsy

so when she did curtsy

he slid under and kissed her lips.



Today's installment is all about thanks:

Thanks, cell phone users. A material used to make cell phones, colton, is obviously hot and in demand right now. Which has endangered some rare gorillas. I won't go into the particulars.

Not that I'm known to be some sort of Big Environmentalist, but I'd prefer the earth to live for a while, if only for selfish reasons.

And I enjoy any news that makes cell phones look bad...

And thanks, lawmakers across the country. Now, the cost of cigarettes has gone so high that agents for Hezbollah in the U.S. are enjoying the fruits of smuggling them.

Now and then, it's good to count your blessings. And your messings.



A man with no life, name of Clumpett

with free time, would sit 'round and thump it.

His friends all did lobby

him to take a hobby--

he called a whore, and now plays strumpet.



Today, class, I'd like to discuss the phenomenon known as the "Mental, er... Meditational Rolodex."

Like the traditional Rolodex (and I know I'm probably stepping on some sort of trademark here, but we all know what I'm talking about), this device stores information on contacts from your personal and/or business life. However, where the traditional Rolodex is used to store phone numbers, addresses and contact names, the MMR stores "pictures," of sorts, or at least a mental image of what somebody looks like. There may be accompanying data stored as well, including anything that complements the physical image: perhaps an accent or general notes about the person's attitude, etc. Also, unlike with the traditional Rolodex, the MMR is rarely a physical device--instead, it is a structural device existing only in the mind.

The vast majority of images stored in these MMRs are of women, although an MMR belonging to a homosexual man would most certainly be filled with information about men. It is unknown whether or not women make use of MMRs, although it is doubtful that an appreciable number of women utilize this tool.

This tool is used during periods of relaxation, generally, at night or in the shower (although it is undoubtedly used in all sorts of settings). The man draws on the "notes" in his MMR for the image of a woman to... er, meditate upon, for a few moments or possibly up to 10 or more minutes.

Although some strong-willed (and usually religious) men opt not to use them, the device exists in the mind of every man. The summer season is an especially active time for MMRs. A simple walk downtown can yield dozens of entries.

And those entries are a closely guarded secret...

Connie Chung is getting a prime spot on CNN to be slaughtered up against "The O'Reilly Factor."

Somebody needs to explain to me again why Chung is still working as a journalist.

Remember how she broadcast Newt Gingrich's mother's "off the record" comments?

She has millions of dollars. There are millions of highly qualified journalists out there who don't have millions of dollars and/or are unemployed.


A Chicago suburb, Naperville, was somehow able to secure a chunk of the World Trade Center for a memorial. I believe this had something to do with the fact that a Naperville native died in the attacks of Sept. 11 and much to do with the fact that somebody thinks this will turn Naperville into a booming tourist center.

So, why are you makin' fun Sloop? (You might be asking.)

Well, Naperville is raising $150,000 for this memorial.

Although it may seem like S&Y has a theme today, I'd like to mention that millions of folks are un- or underemployed thanks, in large part, to these attacks. And even a little taste of that $150,000 would make life easier for some of us.

But I guess people will forget they're po' when we see the magnificence of the memorial on their next cross-country trip to the booming tourist center of Naperville, Illinois.



A stripper who hailed from South Bend

from stomach flu, was on the mend

when she took a crap

while dancing a lap

(she now wears a thong from Depends).



Now, here in 2002, Yassir Arafat decides he'd like to accept the land-for-peace agreement ironed out with Israel during the Clinton administration in 2000.

And this is not the only example of strange thinking among questionable Palestinians.

Since Israel's most recent excursion into Palestinian territories, many pro-Palestinian groups have been, naturally, a little upset. So how do they react? More suicide bombings.

Kinda like the kid who is sick of being grounded and, to protest it, blows a big doob in the family room, ensuring he's grounded even more...

Another thought: Is it the heat? Have you noticed that the Islamic militant nutrods all hail from places where it's really hot? Not only in the Middle East, but also in the Philippines? If we look to the whole Bosnian mess, wherein the Muslims were considered the "good guys," it isn't quite so hot.

Should we be dropping air conditioners?...

But we'll end things up here with another S&Y Sign of Hope: Ratings for "Pro" Wrestling on the decline.

So not all hope is lost.



The hottie, Sara Michelle Gellar

has a fame level that is stellar.

Her fate's to be seen

on the Silver Screen

but I care more: Is she a yeller?



(NOTE: I've heard that Sara Michelle pronounces her name as if it ryhmes with Bell Jar, but today's limerick, of course, assumes that it is pronounced otherwise.)...

I stumbled across a headline in the newspaper today: "French fries high in cancer chemical."

This depresses me, but does not shock me at all.

I have a Golden Rule of Health we all should accept that will save us billions of dollars. It may put some researchers out of work but, at the same time, it will rid us of that annoying class of people who make their livings studying things, bringing us such baffling research results as: children who watch more television than others "are more likely to be overweight" (a startling conclusion from an actual recent study in the Journal of Developmental and Behavioral Problems).

Here's the Rule. You've probably heard it before, but it's time to take it seriously. It's no mere joke: If it tastes good and/or is fun, it's bad for you.

There are no exceptions and if there appear to be, we only haven't yet proven that the activity/food/etc. in question is bad for you.

There's never been a need for these Studyers of to begin with. Take smoking, for example. It took billions of research dollars over decades to "conclude" it was bad for us, despite the fact that smoke inhalation has been a known health hazard since some caveman had the bright idea of bringing the campfire into his cave. But, despite the fact that there are maybe two people on earth, in some village lacking electricity, who still don't know smoking is dangerous, we continue to pour money into researching smoking's effects. Those who are still puffing at this point aren't going to read about the latest study results--"Ten years of smoking takes 20.2 years off your life as opposed to the previously believed 20 years"--and throw their smokes away.

Of course, for our own health, we need to stop playing dumb. I say this because I know there's probably some lawyer somewhere entertaining a client who's considering a suit against McDonald's for not labeling their fries as a "cancer risk." If you honestly thought that eating deep-fried, crispy and--most importantly--tasty potatoes was a healthy nutritional option, society--from the individual right up to the legal system--needs to learn to ignore your type.

We've already been clued in by the Studyers of Things about the ill effects of foods from movie theater popcorn to lard-cooked entrees, but we also have to realize that these Studyers also proclaim in the other direction, by telling us what we want to hear. Witness the research "proving" that beer or wine improves health, in moderation.

Here's a little test of my theory: Does it taste good and/or is it fun? For beer or wine, most would agree that the answer is "yes." Therefore, it's bad for us. No study needed. Not only do we know that alcohol pickles livers and can start your car in an emergency, but we know that it's fun, and the Studyer/Activists who won't sleep until we all live to 115 eating bean sprouts and getting buzzed solely on yoga just haven't yet gotten around to the study. And it doesn't help that alcohol industry influence makes Big Tobacco look like a local arts nonprofit.

What troubles me most is sex. After all, sex is fun, right? All research so far indicates that sex, at least in a monogamous relationship, is healthy--good for the heart, good as a stress reliever, good for relationships.

So although I can't tell you whether it will be within a year or within 50, but I can guarantee that there is some study yet to be done that will show that sex is unhealthy.

Of course, this doesn't mean that I'm going to voluntarily cut back on sex. The only rule I making here states that anything tasty and/or fun is unhealthy--from there, it's up to the individual whether or not to indulge in said food/activity.

As depressing as it may sound, I don't see this dreaded study-to-come causing many practical changes in my marriage. While my wife will nag me about my cigars and eating habits, the Studyers' assertions of sex prolonging one's life has curiously been left out of her regular proddings. I don't hear, "C'mon into the bedroom honey--it's time to get busy for your health!"

But it could, and might very well, get much, much worse. We already have, "Not tonight--I have a headache." Prepare for, "Not tonight--we just did it last month and you know it's bad for you."



Two library gays, talkin' Proust

both well hung, soon discussed ol' "Faust"--

dropped trou then and there

caused many to stare

both so large, it looked like a joust!



I saw another odd thing in the "massage" ads of my newspaper recently.

These ads are teeny-tiny, meaning you can only fit a wee bit of information, so every little thing that you put there should be ultra important: location, phone number and maybe a descriptive or two.

This one bragged that its girls were "drug free."

So, it's not enough that you find the girls down on their luck enough that they have to take jobs giving strange guys... er, "massages," but you won't let them chase away their troubles with contraband chemicals either?

What the hell kind of guy decides that it's actually okay to pay for... er, "massage"--but then gets some moral hair up his ass and decides that the "massager" should be drug-free.

Or is there more of a story to this? Did some guy go for a... er, "oral massage," and his "massager" had just blown a massive doob and so her mouth was just too dry to give him a proper... er, "oral massage"?

Of course, you won't read about your doctor or congressman getting drug tested. We really need to worry about those Wal-Mart workers and "massage" professionals, though. Imagine what could happen otherwise!...

Here's an update on a story previously reported in Slappin' and Yappin' (I like the sound of that--S&Y actually doing REPORTING):

The Denver Post, which previously said it would continue to call "Mile High Stadium" by its traditional name despite a corporate naming rights sale titling it, "Invesco Field," has now given in. They will, in fact, call it "Invesco Field."

Didn't we learn something from Enron in Houston?

I guess it's a bit like John Henry vs. the electric hammer.



>Excellent! If sex does indeed turn out to be unhealthy, and fewer people do

>it (fat chance -- who ever listens to the "experts" unless yr from

>California?), we might actually get a control on such problems as

>overcrowded freeways, world starvation and overpopulation. Just think of all

>the jerks who won't be born. :)


>Bring it on!

Er, I... Um, well... I guess that, perhaps if sex is declared "bad for you," it will become forbidden fruit, as if some religious organizations for some crazed reasons declared that sex was bad, and... er... well...

Perhaps it won't make any difference at all.

Or, once lawyers jump on board, if you're not careful to keep your window shades down and such, you could be prosecuted for second-hand sex. Or the manufacturer will be. A lawsuit against God... I think I've touched on that before...



If the founding folks of this nation

were twelve-year-old boys, some occasions

of history and fame

would have diff'rent names

like "Masturbation Proclamation."



I read a photo caption yesterday. I believe it was a photo of the "Women of Enron" who are posing for Playboy. It refereed to "current and former Enron employees."

There are CURRENT Enron employees? What the hell are they doing? Is there a need for PR damage control anymore? Are they still sweeping up the document shreddings?...

The comic strip "Jumpstart" actually had a good idea the other day, although I believe it was on accident.

It portrayed airport security folks rifling through the adults' bags and--I may be wrong here, but the general gist is the same--the children, comically, thought that the "nice security folks" were making sure they packed everything.

So, as long as they're making travelers' lives miserable, it might not be a bad idea to also appoint these lunkheads "packing consultants."

Er... I think.



There once was a fellow named Frankel

hot legs in high heels, him did rankle.

A job interviewer

caused him thoughts impu-ure

and he mounted her 'tween the ankles.



I just found out that Steve Fossett, that knucklehead millionaire (or is it billionaire?) who has nothing better to do than try repeatedly to circle the world in a balloon, is actually cheating.

That's right. As opposed to going around the equator, or at least doing a complete circling somewhere, he's taking a somewhat shorter route, exclusively across the Southern Hemisphere.

So, not only is he a doofus for thinking anybody but news organizations really care, he's also a doofus because he has failed, what?, at least three times already, and he's a Supreme Doofus because he's actually cheating!

State tuned to this e-newsletter for all your Doofus News Alerts...


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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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