Daily Limerick
Archives: September 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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A lesbo at an open mike

awaited the moment to strike--

young, sex confused girls

with joys of her world

a moment she'd call "open dyke."



I was reading today about how some directors (I think Robert Redford was among them) were suing Clean Flicks Colorado, and its parent company, Clean Flicks Utah, for altering the content of their movies for rental.

The first thought that occurred to me was: I've heard of these types of suits before, but how come Hollywood "stars" are curiously silent about Blockbuster's policy of doing just that?

Then I flipped through the rest of my newspaper and read about local Afghani officials, having a hard time shaking off the years of Taliban rule, who were altering the content of movies from India that were appearing on Afghani TV now that the Taliban's and their ban on TV is history.

Hmm. We're in good company.

Once again, the land that invented the First Amendment has somehow stumbled into trouble figuring out what to do with it.



There is a fine lady named Katie

who still has big hair from the '80s.

Her number one dude's

filled her 'do with spooj

(so big, it hides his masturbaties).



Have you heard about the new, big sports drug-testing scandal?

Yes, the quest to attain top physical perfection often brings the temptation to use performance-enhancing drugs and this time, the victims are from the WBF.

That's, er, the World Bridge Federation.

It seems that bridge is vying to become an Olympic sport. God knows we could use the nail-biting excitement of a card game in the Olympics!

American player Dis Eythorsdottir outright refused to take the drug test and was thus stripped of her silver medal in the non-Olympic competitions recently. She claims that she was taking a diet drug connected with a back condition and didn't want to fail the test.

Busting those card-playing hop heads who are taking over our neighborhoods: Another victory for the War on Drugs!



It came watchin' ol' Morley Safer (sic?)

the first hard on of sicko Schaeffer.

His fetish is gruesome--

rounds up a dead twosome

and gets between two Necro Wafers.



The Miss America competition will be adding trivia questions for contestants next time around. The theory is that this will make the extravaganza more "relevant" to the modern world.

Sure. That ought to increase ratings.

Here's S&Y's free advice to Miss America organizers: Add a "Nude Competition" to the swimsuit, talent, etc. competitions. Trust me. Ratings will soar. And it's the only way to make it "relevant" to the modern world...

A bunch of Hawaiian "girls gone wrong" escaped a detention center for juvenile delinquents shortly after the duties of watching the compound were turned over to a private company that boasted of using "counselors" for the center's guards and such.

Aha! Some kinks are showing in our rapidly Pussifying World...

The French, always reticent toward putting stock in anything that comes out of the U.S.--including statistics showing that we have one of the highest levels of sexual assault despite (and probably because) of our 17th Century tendencies on sexuality--are now questioning the idea of letting television stations broadcast pornography.

So, it's not just the Pussification of America, it's the Pussification of the World we're dealing with...

The prime barbecue season is rapidly nearing an end--although, at this point, I'm vowing to grill even if it's snowing out, year-round (after all, a grill is like a small campfire).

When I lived in a studio apartment, I spent many years without a barbecue grill--and considering it's usually a fatherly duty, I'd never really grilled until I moved into an actual "bedroom" apartment with my wife in 1998 and was able to easily use a grill.

Now, our grill gets me through any party. I'm not much of a party guy, see. I don't mind socializing with a small group of people, but the larger the group, the more small talk necessary and I'm not a good "how 'bout this weather?" kinda guy.

So I spend the whole time at the grill.

It's a caveman thing, I believe. Put a male in front of open (or smoldering) flames with some meat, and it's difficult to pull him away.

Plus, the grill is much more interesting than a whole lot of people.



Referring to my musings on the drug-testing fiasco and the World Bridge Federation:

>That card-player story is really ace.

Thanks! And to think, I had you pegged as nothing but a Joker.



A girl we know claims to see Jesus

every single time that she sneezes.

We would intervene

but, not to be mean

J.C. simply tells her to please us.



I'll kick things off today with a Sign of Hope:

Russia has officially given N'Syncer Lance Bass the boot from the space program he was attempting to join.

So aliens will have less incentive to one day destroy Earth.

Or maybe it's the other way around. Perhaps sending him into space would be the start of a positive trend if, say, there were problems getting back to Earth...

By the way: I read in some grammar column recently that one shouldn't capitalize "Earth." But I like it that way...

The World Health Organization now says that, at least in Europe, poor diet and lack of exercise are a bigger health problem than smoking, with each causing 9.7 and 9 percent of deaths, respectively.

All the non-smokers will soon understand our gripes, once the Health Nazis turn their attention toward these problems. Just wait for the annoying PSAs, the dirty looks, the draconian fast food tax...



A party-mad co-ed named Wong

upset a bash had no beer bong

got drunk anyway

and, 'fore the next day,

still got to enjoy a beer schlong.



I haven't focused on this previously favored topic in a while, but it's become clear to me that the guy who draws "Love Is..." is, in fact, aware that some (like DL) are questioning its... er, integrity, or whatever, and is now just flaunting his Power to Pervert the strip, which derives from the fact that not many people are keeping up on it.

(To recap: I've never been a particular fan of "Love Is...," but when I read the comics page I can't help but read every one. And "Love Is...," since its creator died and it was taken over by her son, has wallowed in such questionable topics as "Love Is... Keeping in touch by cell phone" and such.)

Here's yesterday's edition:

"Love is . . . an Internet proposal."

Madness. Utter madness...

Yesterday, the Chicago Sun-Times reported that many students had ditched the first day of school in the city. On its cover was a photo of two girls and their grandmother. The caption mentioned that one of the girls did go to school and the other didn't, although it didn't identify which was which.

Now THERE's a pic for the ol' scrapbook.



A lusty bank customer, Paul

piqued by a teller's Southern drawl

soon threw something in

to the cash vault o' sin

and when done, made a messy withdrawal.



Those crazy folks who use up all their spare time re-enacting the Civil War are now accepting corporate sponsorship of the events.

And, naturally, Corporate America is heeding the call.

Now, I've never been one to decry the current state of the Civil War re-enactment scene. Never uttered stuff like, "In my time, the guy in the role of Grant had the exact same beard length as Grant for each battle in question, unlike you whipper-snappers and your phony, off-color facial hair!"

But I've gotta think that, somehow, this is going to interfere. Just little things, you know, like the Verizon logo on the cannons...

"Don't have to be old to be a classic" was the marketing scheme that "Classic" rock stations used to cover up the fact that they had to play new music to remain fully in bed with the recording industry.

And I've had my eye on "American Movie Classics" for some time.

I saw in the listings yesterday that "The Good Son" was on AMC. Not only is this stretching further the now near-meaningless term, "classic," but the movie is from 1993.

They've run out of Bogart, it appears. You could say it all came about due to their "Bogarting" of "Bogart."



I long-distance pair used much tissue

and uttered so many a "miss you."

Then he had a test:

flirt in a short dress

and ended up skirting the issue.



We all know that the draconian cigarette tax hikes effect the poor, homeless and the plain ol' riffraff the most. It was a couple of tax hikes ago that I was offered a blow job for some smokes by a homeless-looking woman.

Well, yesterday a homeless (and/or very poor and/or plain ol' riffraff) guy asked me for a cigarette. I showed him the cigar I was smoking, indicating that a) I only have THIS on me and b) you're fuckin' out of your mind if you think I'm giving you a cigar--if cigarettes are gold now, thanks to the politicians, cigars are platinum.

And he says, "Oh, you smoke cigars, you fucker" and went along on his mooching way. He actually then made a motion as if he were going to hit me, but I sped along on my path.

Thanks for the additional sense of security, politicians!...

There's a local NBC affiliate anchor by the name of Dick Johnson.

Guys like this puzzle me. What about Richard?

Otherwise, it's redundant, if you think about it...

Speaking of funny names, the Ohio Buckeyes football team has a player named Richard McNutt.

Wonder if he ever goes by Dick McNutt?



A girlie was ample-y paid

to work dressed up as a French maid.

The job with this preenin'

required no damn cleanin'--

he really hoped to get French laid!



A plug overheard for a (then) upcoming segment on "The O'Reilly Factor":

"Why are so many black men in prison? We'll hear both sides."

BOTH sides? But, it isn't a "yes/no" or "pro/con" question?

Or IS it, in this case?...

And now for Slappin' and Yappin's first "Worst Jingle in the History of the Planet Award":

Kyocera Mita.

I partially blame the horrible company name. And nepotism--perhaps the CFO's brother who has no talent and no work ethic but wants to be a "musician" is involved.

Maybe it's time to call in America's Pre-Eminent Jingle Writers, Smashmouth...

Saw a listing for a poetry reading the other day. It's a group reading, concerned with--surprise surprise--reactions to Sept. 11.

The event is entitled, "A Cry for Peace."

Poets will be poets...

Pakistani president Pervez Musharaff is appearing in Chicago and I found it noteworthy that, to see him, it'll set you back $75.

Well, Pakistan's not exactly a thriving democracy just yet. But they're following the U.S. model on many fronts...

Put me officially on record in favor of eliminating the adjective, "Extreme," by the way. Just turn on your TV and count how long it takes to hear it.



>Yesterday, someone asked me for an intelligent opinion on the state of the

>world. I opened my mouth, but he fixed me with a hard, steely gaze and



>Then he put my cigar out and put me through a meat grinder. Sheesh. Some



>Asylum Reject

That's quite a story.

What a world we live in. You can't even trust every Slappin' and Yappin' reader.

But, for the most part, they're gentle and pensive. Which can be a dangerous combination.



A light sleeping fellow named Loring

has a chick who was always snoring.

To quiet the din

he'd just throw it in

and now, in her sleep she goes whoring.



The other day, I read of a study that explored different ways mothers have "The Talk" with their daughters and how that affected the daughters' sexual activity, pre-adulthood.

Of course, the talks that spurred daughters into NOT having sex were considered "positive result getters."

Which, of course, is a travesty.

Now, I don't mean that this is a travesty to ME. I certainly ain't lookin' for any R. Kelly-esque trouble. First off, I'm married. Secondly, even if I weren't, I'd be settin' the bar at legal age--17, I think, in Illinois--and probably much higher, considering my level of hipness and all.

But I feel for the teen boys.

It's a constant battle for them--and, although I don't think I have any teen boys on this subscriber list, my advice to them is to check out the competition. Read this survey--know thine enemy. In other words, you need to know how society is combating your efforts to get laid in order to counteract those efforts and in fact get yourself some.

I remember, as a teen, being furious seeing the cover of one of my sister's teen magazines emblazoned with "Ten Ways to Tell Him NO." It was then I'd realized the need for espionage--in fact crafting my own mental notes on "Ways to Counteract Her Ten Ways of Telling Me NO."

For the rest of you men, realize that this quest never ends. Episodes of "Real Sex" show a "Sex Expert" woman teaching a group of dames oral sex tricks--and they're bad tricks, let me tell you. Women's magazines publish articles on the order of, "Ten Ways to Keep Your Man Happy in Bed" and list crap like "Have a burger with him afterward"--which, although nice, certainly wouldn't make my Top 500 list.

So be aware. The Propaganda, overall, is not on your side, guys.

Espionage can be your penis' best friend.



A lad for the first time used lotion

to spur masturbational motion.

He liked it so much,

this new, moister touch,

that he nearly jacked out an ocean.



Here's an update on a Daily Limerick story from a couple months back:

Homer Simpson... Er, that is, Jason Sanderson, the guy who grabbed a guitar from a member of Foreigner and ran with it at Naperville's (Ill.) July 4 Ribfest--NOT the Taste of Chicago, as S&Y originally reported--has now been banned from ever seeing Foreigner play live again.

No members of Foreigner appeared in court.

Why isn't this one on Court TV?...

There's a new service called TheraDate. A bunch of therapists got together and decided that they'd match their clients up with "appropriate" mates.

So, this is new, huh? Otherwise, my name mistakenly getting on some list would explain quite a bit about my single life.



>My mom and I never talked about sex when I was growing up. And when I was 16

>she caught me butt naked masturbating in my bed room.

>After that, we still never talked about sex.

I'd always feared that would happen to me, but I was never caught pink handed. I once caused a stir in my pajamas with an obvious, raging hard-on, but it was a minor stir.

I mean, I was only about ten. It would have to be a MINOR stir.

Feel free to send in your tales of Masturbation Gone Wrong. Only in Daily Limerick!



If you expect the same old tone

that other media have shown

to mark Nine Eleven

take stock, and thank Heaven

that DL will leave it alone.



Daily Limerick is doing nothing to "commemorate" Sept. 11. I know, you were expecting a loving, tear-jerking look at the events here in Slappin' and Yappin', but I've decided not to jump on the media bandwagon because, in watching other media lately, I'M GODDAMNED SICK OF HEARING ABOUT SEPT. 11.

Then again, there's an argument that we're not REALLY avoiding the commemoration diarrhea because, well, I'm commenting on everybody's else's relentless dwelling on the topic.

But at least that makes me once-removed from the whole thing...

First off the bat, why did everybody commemorate the week LEADING UP TO Sept. 11. On Sept. 5 through 10, 2001, there was pretty much nothing special going on, unless you count "Condit-mania" as something special.

Then again, we're talking about a society that couldn't wait one fuckin' year for the REAL turn of the millennium in 2001...

In case you didn't notice, "Dateline" never stopped dwelling on Sept. 11, so does that mean they're not really guilty of re-hashing it, since they never stopped "hashing"?...

Speaking of coverage "once-removed," VH-1, naturally straining for some, ANY sort of angle into the media barrage, remembers the GODDAMNED CONCERT FOR NEW YORK that was IN RESPONSE to the attacks...

They say there's a silver lining in every dark cloud. In this case, it might be the fact that the major telemarketing corporations asked their professional harrassers to take the day off. One down, 364 to go...

I've noticed something about our new, handy Color-Coded Terrorism Alerts.

It starts with red, ends with orange and, in short, pretty much goes along the letters of "Roy G. Biv"--you know, the acronym to help us remember the order of the components of white light as it's divided through a prism?

Except that Green and Blue are switched around. There's no indigo or violet, but this would otherwise leave us with "Roy B. Giv."

Wouldn't you think that somebody with half a brain--if there is somebody over there with half a brain--in our Homeland Security Dept. would have mentioned that, "Hey--if we just switch the blue and green, it'll correspond to the ol' 'Roy G. Biv' thing and will make it that much easier for folks to remember."

If they can't handle the little things...



A naive broad's dream was to sing

for perfect teeth, had quite a thing

a cunning hygienist

filled her mouth with penis

and gave her his own whitening.



In glancing over some of the coverage commemorating yesterday's commemoration of the anniversary of the Sept. 11 attacks, I noted a few interesting nuggets.

Nikola Lampley had the pleasure of hearing her name read as one of the WTC victims.

That's gotta put a certain spin on the rest of your day.

And some chowderhead in Chicago, Richard Canton, described how he moved to Chicago to study comedy in September, 2001, but, after the attacks, decided to make studying Islam his life's goal--and he converted--instead.

Especially after these over-commemorated events, many of us grasp to understand these different--and almost alien seeming--cultures.

Frankly, I'm having a harder time getting the Guilty White Liberals than I am the Third World Militant Muslims.



>The traffic light went red,

>then it went ....... blue?!?!?! green?!?!

>Help me, Mr. Ashcroft!

If the traffic light really turned blue, well...

Say, is Robert Downey, Jr. on the DL list now?

Anyway, perhaps you mean that the light went Red, then Orange, then Yellow, then Blue, the Green.

But you'd better stop when it's red. Especially if Ashcroft is around.



Young boys all crave a carnal gig

and one, little Joe, fixed a rig.

Quite big for his age

he banged older Paige

with help from his trusty crotch wig.



What the hell is with the craze for boneless, skinless chicken breast?

Gimme a leg any day, but the point here isn't one's preference for white or dark meat.

One of the stereotypes visited by the Hate America crowd is embodied here: Take out the white meat we prefer and throw the rest of the chicken in the trash while the rest of the world starves.

Despite my preferences, if you cook up a chicken and offer me some, I won't turn down a breast (although I'd prefer the bone in and the skin on).

It's somehow become the dieting staple of American life. Every single person I know who is one of those "always watching my weight" types eats a ridiculous amount of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

We only celebrate diversity in certain ways, you see...

Just thought I'd weigh in with this one, for anybody trying to find their way to an address in a city: Honorary street names suck. What fuckin' lunatic ever thought this was a good idea. AT THE VERY LEAST, put the REAL street name on the same post as the vanity one...

Ever have a woman get a flirty with you and you can't quite figure out how to get rid of her?

Okay, so I'm guessing that this doesn't seem to be a problem for most of you.

But, anyway, if you're ever married, like me, and happily married, at that (or at least as "happily married" as one can be), and, because of the way things work, the schmuckitude that ruled your life when you were single magically vanishes once you're hooked up, and you actually get flirted with by a tall, hot blonde in your building--here's how to shake her.

Somehow, get her to drop by your apartment. In my case, the building handyman was fixing her bathroom and she had to go, so she came to borrow mine. Then, when she show up, get as close to buck naked as you can and act as if nothing is the matter!

This all happened, with me, by accident. I was doing laundry and finally got all the clothes into the washers, so I was preparing to hit the shower, wearing only these ridiculously little shorts that I try only to wear for certain "occasions"--such as when they're the only thing I can handle keeping dirty until the next time I wash--and "knock knock!"

I let her in and thought about apologizing or at least explaining my nature boy state, but decided against it. She came in and did her business in a real hurry.

Afterward, I thought about apologizing when I happened to see her--I don't know why, it certainly wasn't my fault or anything but, being married, you get in the habit of apologizing for things that aren't really your fault--but I never did that.

But now, she's not so flirty when I do see her. And she seems a tad afraid of me.

Problem solved. Although there's nothing wrong, I suppose, in appreciating a little flirtation.

Then again, this could certainly backfire. And I most certainly wouldn't recommend it for a woman who's trying to shake a flirty guy.



>>Nikola Lampley had the pleasure of hearing her name read as one of the

>> WTC victims.


> Who?

I don't know who, to be honest. Except that she, standing there alive, got to hear her name read as one of the people who died in the World Trade Center attacks.

Subtlety will get you nowhere, I guess.

Simply writing, "Some chick actually got to hear her own name read as a victim..." there would've been no confusion.

Foiled by my own ruthless commitment to keeping the public--or some fringe section of it--informed!



Legend of the World's Finest Knockers:

One viewer squirmed much like Joe Cocker

and cloth from his briefs

did so stroke his beef

that he had to go wash his Dockers.



You'd think there'd be a bigger deal made of this, but I understand that WWE ("pro" wrestling, formerly WWF until they lost a lawsuit over the name to the World Wildlife Fund) broadcast, or will broadcast, a gay wedding.

Perhaps it's not as big of a deal because, well, I hate to burst any bubbles out there, but anything associated with "pro" wrestling is pretty much fake.

Of course, this brings to mind a few things. Number one, I've always wondered about guys who get into watching a bunch of buffed-up, half-naked men in fantastical costumes sweat, roll around together and engage in general overblown theatrics.

However, I've also learned that the two guys getting (or already) married are basically villains on the wrestling scene.

Otherwise, I'm not sure what to make of this. Society is just moving too quickly, and too strangely, for me to completely comprehend.



>No bones or skin?!?!?! You mean, just *meat*? Just WHITE meat?


>Uh ... cooking ANYTHING with the bones and skin left on will make it more

>flavorful, regardless of what you do with the bones and skin after.



So, whenever you go to a barbecue, you tell the host: "Do me a flavor and leave the skin on, okay?"

>Oh, and thanks for your handy ways on getting a restraining order. I might

>have to try that. :D



Well, I don't know if I'd say I actually got a restraining order but...

Perhaps the poor man's restraining order.

Consider S&Y to be YOUR source for tips on scaring women away.



There once was a girlie named Shaver

for who jizz was something to savor.

Each blow job-launched batch

shed' let down the hatch--

claimed it had a fine, "nutty" flavor.



So I suppose you've heard about these three Middle Eastern guys in Florida who were in a diner saying stuff like, "If they think September 11th was a big deal--just wait," causing a lady to squeal to authorities, which in turn led to some troubles for the three with the FBI, at least until it was discovered that, because people were looking at the three "funny," they started such terroristic banter as a "joke."

And, naturally, in the True American Way, one of the relatives of the guys is now screaming "racist!"

Of course, nobody going about their own business in a diner should have to be stared at. But... Perhaps these guys need a comedy class or something, because most people don't find people from Middle Eastern cultural backgrounds engaging in faux terrorist talk a source of rolling laughter.

And, to the knucklehead relative of one of the three knuckleheads: It would be racist if the woman had called the Feds simply because they appeared Middle Eastern. It appears, however, that she notified authorities because the boneheads were TALKING TERRORIST.

Unless, of course, we need a whole new arena of political correctness--a quest to stop stereotyping terrorists, or "terroristism"...

I keep reading about this new terrorist wannabe the Feds caught, Ramzi Binalshibh, and hearing him described as the would-be 20th Hijacker.

But I thought that was Zaccarias Moussoui?

So, which one was "A string" and which was "B string"?



A man went to a Chinese luncheon

and while he was chewin' and munchin'

discovered a fetish

for Asians coquettish

and his underwear started bunchin'.



As practically everyone in America settles down for a meal of boneless, skinless chicken breast, with dinner conversation arguing over whether or not coffee and/or butter and/or eggs is good for them according to the experts of the day, and knucklehead lawyers prepare to sue the fast food industry over burgers that mysteriously jump down people's throats, you may wonder: Where did this all get started?

(I guess you could call this a very special "Info-Tainment" edition of Daily Limerick.)

In 1977, liberal senator George McGovern, of South Dakota, issue a report to Americans to avoid fat and "lethal disease" citing a report from some "experts" who actually had very little in the way of evidence.

Perhaps that was the birth of Fear Pollution.



A chickie's phone sex job has pull

o'er her private life--that's no bull.

Her man feels, in sex

this set up, it wrecks--

'speci'lly when she talks with mouth full!



Readers of this hunk of shit probably know that my real goal in life is to make a living off my writing projects (freelance, etc.) and never have to go into an office. Well, if that office is MAD Magazine or something, that'd be okay, but... You get the idea.

Actually, my ultimate goal is to get by freelancing, etc., doing stuff I really like to do (humor, etc.)--but, until then, I'll settle for getting by writing whatever the hell comes along, with SOME stuff I really like writing.

But lately, I've figured out what my true goal is in this matter. It's not so much that I just love writing, although I do. It's not so much the idea of self-sufficiency, no more worries about getting laid-off, etc.--although that's a huge plus, too. It's not even directly the idea of not having to deal with an office--although that, too, is a gargantuan plus.

It's more then fact that I'd love to be in a position where I never have to put on pants.

For months now, I've been unemployed (although now I'm employed part-time), getting by on unemployment money, occasional temp jobs and freelance gigs. And I've discovered that I really like to get everything done that I have to do outside of the house as early as possible and then... Remove my pants and enjoy the rest of the day--even if I still have in-house work to do.

Now, I like to keep my underwear on. And a shirt and socks, to boot. But the freedom that comes from wearing no pants is just, well, priceless.

If any of you are at my funeral some day, please remove any pants they may inconsiderately put on me. At least send me into eternity with no pants.



A new porn star asked about "plot"

and for more foreplay on her twot.

A clue's what she lacks--

even the climax

was a counterfeit money shot.



The American public has been bamboozled. Hornswaggled. Given the business. By the Entertainment Industry.

Witness the descent in "reality" programming from stuff that was at least exciting on paper--like "surviving" in the wilderness--to watching the likes of Ozzy Osbourne and Anna Nicole Smith go about their "everyday" lives.

I'm amazed that people don't seem to notice that, as opposed to producing shows with at least the facade of hard work--writing teams, etc.--we're now basically watching what amounts to home movies.

Yup. If your neighbor invites you over for drinks and whips out the ol' camcorder to "treat" you to footage of his family's Vegas trip, you're suddenly grasping for ANY excuse to get the hell out of there. Now, give the offender a modicum of fame and put it on an actual "network" and BAM! Somehow, it becomes entertainment.

Of course, it's not any more entertaining than home movies. We're just too stupid to figure this out.

Likewise, do most people really enjoy hearing people sing? No--even if they have a good voice. Unless, of course, they actually get a band together and such. (NOTE: The laws of the universe, as I understand them, cannot explain the popularity of karaoke.) And few events are more annoying than a high school talent contest.

But, combining wannabe singers with a talent contest situation brings big ratings in the form of "American Idol."

What's next, Entertainment Industry? The Paint Drying Channel?



>If you next say you'd like to be ensconsed in velvet, your transformation

>into George Costanza is complete.


>Mr. Vandalay

I have no special penchant for velvet. What's more, I'm not very good at being "Master of my Domain." I now occasionally wear glasses, however, and my hairline is receding. Not to mention that my waistline seems to grow every year.

And I've thought about having a sandwich during sex...



This craze over Anna Nicole

is mentally taking a toll.

How'd she get "Hot Power"?--

Must roll her in flour

to find that gold-diggin' pig's hole!



Ms. Jesse Jackson, and a group of other yahoos, are protesting the movie "Barbershop."

This is one of those cases where you simply can't win. There's always (rightful) bitching that there aren't enough "black" movies made. But if, when you make one, you do anything remotely controversial, and don't buy into the idea that members of a minority community should engage in a Group Colony Thought Process--and, as well, forget that the most vocal members of our society have trouble differentiating fact and fiction--the tidal wave of bitchin' washes over you, too.

The Grand Hissy Fit stems from scenes in the movie where one character pokes fun at Rosa Parks and Martin Luther King--which, in some Talibanesque way, runs counter to Group Colony Thought Process.

That'll teach 'em not to make intelligent black movies--which, in turn, will fuel further bitching.

Did Maslow leave the human need for bitching off of his hierarchy?

The South African version of "Sesame Street" will feature Kami, the HIV-positive muppet.

I think some heavy bitchin' was responsible for this development...

Did you hear about this robot they built to drill through a door in the Great Pyramid of Egypt that hasn't been opened in gazillions of years?

And, apparently not thinking of the adage, "Those who are ignorant of Geraldo Rivera are doomed to repeat his crap," they televised the event.

And behind the door, of course was... Another door.

Back to the drawing board.

But still more exciting than the "Anna Nicole" show.



One day, the fine whores of Pimp Hank

gave each John a smack in the shank.

It drove some away

but soon came a day

they'd laugh all the way to the spank.



I was just yesterday alerted to the fact that Illinois has not had a poet laureate in two years. this has been the case since Gwendolyn Brooks died.

No wonder things are screwed up in the state, what with a pathetic budget, increase in crime and unemployment, etc.

How does the state legislature operate without an opening villanelle? Is that why there's no sonnet on the signs proclaiming "Welcome to Illinois"?

And just what does a poet laureate DO? Do they warm up with a few limericks each morning, proceed out to the state rose garden to pen a few morning couplets? Do they have some sort of boss who hassles him or her if they don't scribble down verses on the appropriate forms?

Is it a paying gig? Do poets laureate have unions? Perhaps they're even teamsters--I could see the slam poets getting involved at that angle.

Roses are red, violets are blue... and, for now, in Illinois: Things are a mess. We need a poet to rhyme things like this ending.



A big ol' queen named Barry Goop

tried food pyramid's merry loop.

But much as he'd try it

this hailed balanced diet

he ate most from the fairy group.



The other day, I was thinking about militant Muslim fundamentalists and how nutty they are.

Then, I somehow thought upon the fact that serious Muslims aren't supposed to drink alcohol and, naturally, a militant fundamentalist is likely to honor this stipulation. I also considered that, since the beginning of time, human beings have used intoxicants as a way of handling an often stressful, confusing world--and that perhaps this is the case for good reason.

Therefore, perhaps at least part of the reason these militant Muslim fundamentalists are so darn nutty is the fact that they aren't allowed the intoxicating relief from life.

My mind kept rolling on this topic. The musings turned to Catholics--Catholic priests aren't allowed the release of sex and thus, much like the militant Muslim fundamentalists, they turn around and get nutty in their own special way.

I could continue this in all sorts of directions, but the general conclusion is this: Vice is good for you.

Just say "yes."



A slut issued her mating calls

wanting TWO men to fill her walls.

"Cowgirl" filled her beave

with Joe, and ol' Steve

plugged ass, as the two did bounce balls.



Herta Daeubler-Gmellin, the German politician or whatever who compared President Bush to Hitler, now comes out and says that she only invoked the name "Adolf Nazi" and swears she never uttered the name "Hitler."

I suppose she didn't inhale either.

Goes to show you that political idiocy is not unique to the United States...

From the "You Can't Judge a Book by its Name Dept.": I thought it was interesting that the Indiana woman who's subject of the latest "Mothers Gone Wild" child-beating video just happens to be named Madelyne Gorman "Toogood"...

Mangled English of the Week: A Chicago Sun-Times reporter today, in a story about the nutrods who attacked the Kansas City Royals coach at Comiskey Park (I'll do my part to ruin their 15 Minutes by refusing to name them), discusses his call home to his sister, just before the Moron Maneuver, in which he told her to "watch for him on TV," and labels it "prophetic."

So, prophets are people who tell you what they're going to do just before they do it?



>Um, when you said priests "Get nutty," you didn't mean it as an especially

>awful (and hilarious) pun, did you?


>Balled Over

No, I actually didn't, knowing how sensitive a subject it is. I mean, people can get real teste about such things. Of course, any priest doing such things who's been found out probably wouldn't complain--he'd be too much of a sad sack.

Many of the victims probably don't even remember exactly what the priest did to them, but I especially feel sorry for those who have scrotal recall. And to think, they looked up to these older guys, assuming they were just Genital Giants.




A hot-breasted chick hooked ol' Walter

by wearing a really tight halter.

He turned such a drooler

he ran to a jeweler

and bought her a rock like Gibraltar's.



In case you haven't heard, let me fill you in on an episode of Big Brother Government that's flexing its butt muscle here in Chicago.

One of our alderman, Edward Burke, is pushing for a law making all of Chicago's restaurants smoke-free.

A news story today reported that the Chicago area already has some 900 smoke free restaurants. Lacking the statistic, I could've told you the same thing--its actually rough, at least in my neighborhood, to find a restaurant that even allows smoking.

The idea here is that Big Government knows best. Fewer and fewer people are smoking today and, obviously, many restaurants are reflecting the desires of their customers--it's called Free Market, Mr. Burke, perhaps you should read up on it--and going smoke free. But, naturally, some restaurants notice that they get a lot of smokers and they accommodate them--and if a non-smoker doesn't like it, it's not like there's a shortage of other restaurants to patronize.

There was a time when the idea of America was "Live and Let Live."

The other idea here is the Do Nothing But Look Like You're Doing Something Politician Trick. Or the Latch Onto Something That's Already Happening and Make Like You Had Something To Do With it Trick. That is, more and more establishments are going smoke-free all the time, so a horse's ass like Mr. Burke can pass a law mandating nonsmoking restaurants and then claim he's responsible for the trend he had little to do with.

We have a serious lack of affordable housing here in the city. I don't know if I trust security on our subways and such in a post 9/11/01 world. The Chicago Public Schools are atrocious.

But, of course, the first order of business is to tell businesses (and people) what they should be doing.

I've also heard rumor that Burke in fact wants to "beat New York" to the punch, before they outlaw smoking in every single restaurant.

Does this guy get out at all? I'm here because I'm happy it's NOT New York or L.A.



From somebody a little new to this list:

> I don't mind limericks, but you probably shouldn't send me the dirty  stuff...

Hmm. Leave it to DL to go and ruin the time-honored, family activity of limericism.



In ancient days, there was a stripper

got off rubbing crotch to male zipper.

'Til her hot caboose

got sticky on Zeus

which turned her to stars: The Big Dripper.



I noticed a little nugget in my newspaper's TV grid that's rather telling of the current state of "culture."

I'm not a huge TV watcher, but I'm also one of those rare folks whose career (freelancing for certain outlets like MAD Magazine, for instance) benefits from more TV watching. That's right--when I finally actually got cable, I saw an increase in freelance sales. So, anyway, I try to brief the TV grids and read the TV section of the paper to get some second-hand couch potato vibes.

Getting back to our hero, or whatever you want to call me, I noticed an MTV show called, "How to Live Like a Pop Star." Not "How to Live Like a ROCK star."

It's not that music has grown in such a direction that we can't call it "rock" anymore. It's more that... Well, we don't have a lot of "Rock Stars" these days.

It's not as much about Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll anymore as it is about Ab Crunches, Teeth Whitening and Designer Duds.

And, other than a heapin' helpin' of anorexia here and there, I suppose there's an argument that this is a healthier, more evolved Culture today.

But, and you can call me old-fashioned all you want, I still find it healthier for kids who have heroes who create something, say something--even if they heroes aren't the finest role models in other ways--than for them to grow up pining for a house like Britney or a car collection like P. Diddy.

Hell, I ain't old-fashioned. I might just be out-of-date.



That famous groupie, Plaster Caster

once tried doing the process faster

which caused too much strokin'--

like a chicken chokin'--

and that cast came out a disaster.



It's been a heavy day for Ridiculosity, so sit back, loosen your pants--or remove 'em--and here goes:

ABC, which had merged with Disney some time back, is going to effectively merge with CNN, which is owned by Time, which, of course, merged with Warner Bros. some time back, and AOL a little more recently--and, of course, there's the multitude of little mergers are all over the place concerning these two titans, including DC Comics, MAD Magazine, etc., etc., etc.

All priming the way for the One Giant Company that will rule the world, mooo ha ha ha ha!...

I've been reading all this talk about how attacking Iraq would "undermine the War on Terror."

Now, I'm no Bush lover--well, actually I am a bush lover, just not with a capital "B"--and there are many arguments against this Iraq attack, including our military's resources, UN opinion, etc. But, considering Saddam Hussein uses biological weapons on his own people--and provides financial aid to families of Palestinian suicide bombers, who are pretty much dictionary-definition terrorists--I don't think you can separate an Iraq strike from the War on Terror. You can say this would be a whole new branch of the War on Terror, and question the intelligence of that, I suppose, but you can't undermine the National Football League by building a new Bears stadium, for instance.

Or is Saddam behind on his Terrorist Union Local 666 dues?...

Mayor Daley has presented us with another reason you just gotta love Chicago.

Recall, if you will, the two morons who leapt on the field and jumped a Kansas City Royals coach at Comiskey Park. Many people are going about their do-gooder crap, questioning beer sales at the stadium and everything, and many mayors would be all formal about it, denouncing them as "criminal" or "disturbed" or whatever.

Daley went out of his way to say it has nothing to do with beer sales, calling the two "knuckleheads."

I'm no Daley lover either, but you gotta admire the lack of gobbledy-gook with that statement...

The Center on Alcohol Marketing and Youth has released a study proclaiming that most beer ads are aimed at youths as opposed to adults.

Hmm. Turn on your TV. How very strange that somebody would actually market to the youth demographic! How very wicked and outside the norm this is!...

Alicia Renee Lucia, Miss New Jersey, is upset about being asked her opinion on "The Sopranos" during the Miss America festivities.

Okay. We can discuss the idea of whether or not it's offensive to ask such a question of an Italian American. We can discuss the intelligence of anybody dwelling on fictional world problems when there are so many real ones.

But we're talking about Miss America here. Not even Miss America, whose name I will probably never remember or care to remember--and haven't since Vanessa Williams--but a Miss America loser.

I've discussed this too much already...

Frito Lay is working on ridding its snacks of trans fatty acids because, well, we should expect a heapin' helpin' of healthfulness in our junk food, I guess. And also because the FDA is planning to make food manufactures label their products' level of these fats.

As we all know from cigarettes, these labels do a fine job of stopping the use of the products and the "I ain't responsible for my own self" lawsuits...

The airlines are now seeking another government bailout.

Too bad money can't buy a clue...

CCBenefits, an organization hired by the city colleges of Illinois, has added another shocking study to our constantly growing pile of crap from the professional Studyers of Things.

They found--now brace yourself--that the more college a person attends, the more money they're likely to make.

Pick your jaw up off the floor, man!



Referring to my fogey-esque ramblings about "old school" rock star personas:

>Your not out of date. Your retro, and that's cool.

Smallpox is retro, too.



A horny husband wanted more

so with prostitutes, he did score.

When wife caught him laying

a broad he was paying,

he said, "All's fair in love and whores!"



Bill Ray Cyrus is going to star in some new show called "Doc" on the PAX Network. And he must've had some press conference or something, because I read a big quote from him in the paper yesterday about how this is his way of "giving something back to God."

Can God stomach PAX? I guess it's better than one of those personal ads thanking Him.

Or perhaps Billy Ray feels he owes God something--having unleashed "Achy Breaky Heart" on the world (which, by the way, was stuck in my head for a couple hours after I read the quote, and is on its way back).

I understand that people will have differing opinions, but I refuse to acknowledge any arguments that "Achy Breaky Heart" could've possibly been the work of God. In fact, while I don't believe in Satan, the tune is a fine argument for HIS existence...

I've admitted this before: I still have some of the Guilty White, Male, Straight, Liberal Syndrome influencing many of my philosophies.

And while I've always had a problem with Jesse Jackson, I've also felt that, well, maybe I don't "get" him or something, because it's easy to play the race card against a white guy who doesn't like Jesse.

But, despite occasionally doing some very good things, I still think Jesse is, to borrow a Mayor Daley-esque term, a knucklehead.

I'm making great headway against my GWMSLS concerning Jesse lately. Approaching the day when I can say, "Jesse Jackson is a flaming knucklehead" with pride in my own reasoning capacity.

I've touched upon the topic of Jesse harassing Cedric the Entertainer, and others involved with the movie "Barbershop," in this space recently. To briefly recap: Jesse (and his Rainbow Coalition) feels it's wrong to make comments about civil rights icons being actual human beings, with faults--even in a GODDAMNED WORK OF FICTION and even if OTHER CHARACTERS IN THE MOVIE RIP INTO THE CHARACTER MAKING THE "OFFENSIVE" REMARKS. Especially considering there are very few "black" movies that enjoy crossover appeal and... Oh, I'm not getting into this whole mess again.

But I was thinking about how Rev. Meeks, the man believed to be Jesse's eventual replacement in his Rainbow Coalition--and, one would assume, the Rainbow Coalition endorses these actions as well--has been enthusiastically jumping to the side of R. Kelly--whose alleged transgressions I trust you've read about.

So, obvious, no-doubt-about-it bad behavior in the real world is to be defended, while questionably offensive behavior in the make-believe world deserves prompt, vigilant attacks.

Sorry, Jackson and Meeks. You're both flaming knuckleheads.



>I have to say, John, the in-depthness of this article makes it one of my

>favorites by you. Like a newscaster, rather than a brief announcement.


>Thanks for the smiles.

Well, well, well. I touched on a lot of topics yesterday, so I think this guy must've liked all of them.

But I'm most impressed that he referred to my e-spew as an actual "article"!

Or is this sarcasm?

It's hard to take praise or criticism seriously when you're doing unserious things.

And now, this same nutjob gets around to responding to the Sept. 20 S&Y, perhaps applying to be Illinois' poet laureat:

>Illinois sucks,

>so hold onto your socks.

>The state's as retro as





>Resigning Poet

Well, it's better than anything else we have coming out of the state capital's poetry office.



Now Angie Jolie found it cute--

Thorton's blood hangin' 'tween her hoots.

But now that it's missin'

I've a plan, Ang, listen:

I'll put there a fluid substitute!



Home and Garden Television is evil. Men, do all you can to keep your women from watching it.

We've been "decorating" a lot lately, mostly on account of the fact that we've had a few get-togethers.

Interior decorating, of course, is for the benefit of guests. It doesn't matter so much, for instance, what I think of it all--I only live here.

As best as I can tell, the main goal is to perpetuate a lie. To make it appear as if nobody actually lives there--shoes in the closets, newspapers and such that I want to keep handy for reading stowed away in the bedroom, wimpy little guest towels that dry hands as well as toilet paper, etc.

Has it always been this way? Or is this MTV's fault, too?



Young Tim saw young Kim--then and there

he prayed the good Lord 'bout his cares.

Glimpsed Kim's budding breast

and dubbed a success

(his little study of school prayer).



I saw this bookstore ad for a bunch of books yesterday. One of them was for Erik Klinenenberg's "Heat Wave"--a book about the heat wave of 1995 that actually killed off a whole bunch of people in Chicago. The general contentions of the book are that many more deaths could have been prevented, not enough has been done to prevent such a disaster in the future and that the tragedy has largely been forgotten.

But I'm not interested in that. I'm interested in the misleading use of statistics in the ad.

The ad says that "twice as many died in 1995 than in Great Chicago Fire of 1871."

Which is, of course, true. Unless you count the fact that Chicago's population has much more than doubled since then.

Not that this means 1995 didn't bring a tragedy. Only that the Great Chicago Fire is rightfully more infamous.

Be careful of statistics, young Slapper Yappers...

What the hell does "Pure as the DRIVEN Snow" mean? Is that snow that's been DRIVEN over by a sled? If so, that snow is, well, not so pure.

Most recently, I heard this questionable cliche in an "Ice Mountain" commercial--you know, for BOTTLED WATER, one of the few reasons--along with throwing out the rest of the chicken and its skin so we can eat BONELESS, SKINLESS CHICKEN BREAST--that I have to admit the rest of the world has a point for despising Americans--because we already pay water bills but rather than drink from the tap we PAY FOR IT AGAIN in a flashy, focus-group designed, heavily marketed bottle... But I'm digressing.

What the hell does "Pure as the DRIVEN snow" mean? That's my point.



A man once decided, "I'm game!"

for bi-cur'ous phone sex untame.

But this homo glory

became his life story--

not mere 15 minutes of flame.



Do you recall, not too long ago, when S&Y reported on how, when some women in an African nation decided to protest poverty and such to some U.S. companies that weren't employing their people, they used the "get naked" technique? The idea was that, according to the dictates of their culture, this would shame their men into doing something about it?

S&Y, naturally, came out heavily in favor of this technique--and encouraged U.S. women to take up the tactic.

Well, we don't get a lot of letters from their ilk, but it seems that maybe I have some of these activist types on my subscriber list.

The recent protests--against the World Bank and International Monetary Fund--in Washington, D.C., included young, nubile women stripping. (There wasn't a lot of detail in the stories I've read, but I did see pics of some babes in bra and panties. It's a start!)

Somebody call me in as a mediator: "Okay! We'll add a statute mandating a 'Commitment to Environment' to the charter for... Half of your tops!... No, okay, then how about we beef up the statutes a bit for... Three of you removing your tops--that's you, and you, and, let me see, YOU, definitely..."...

Long-time readers should know that I occasionally indulge the duty of Journalistic Police (at least for the media I happen to stumble across--I don't go out of my way too much). And I'm not interested in ethical transgressions or misstatements of facts or anything. I'm merely interested in innuendo and stuff with a high Giggle Factor.

There was a story in the Sun-Times yesterday about this Judge, Susan McDunn, who interfered with the adoption case of two lesbians with her conservative, anti-gay ways. You don't need much more info than that, for our purposes.

Anyhow, the story proceeded to relate some of the words Ms. McDunn had written in documents supporting her side, introducing them like this: "[McDunn] argued in her briefs..."

I saw a photo of Ms. McDunn. She's actually kinda pretty--in a school marmy, childhood friend's mother kinda way. So--and I know this is slimy--despite her being, shall we say, a little fascist, I wouldn't mind seeing her argue in her briefs.



In his barn, Jeb got Dolly Picken

quite drunk, so's he'd go for the dickin'.

Made one big mistake--

booze he, too, did take

and somehow threw it in a chicken.



A column by Richard Roeper in today's Chicago Sun-Times is calling for more protesters to strip.

Soon after I threw him on my subscriber list unsolicited.

I ain't accusing or nothing' but... Hmmm...

By the way, speaking of those nutty World Bank/IMF protesters, there was a press conference today and only one protester showed.

One. Not one hundred. One.

The youth of today are still having trouble with this protest thing...

Yesterday, I heard the song "Let it Snow" coming from the TV for a commercial. I didn't catch the company it was for, but I was highly disturbed.

I meant to do some sort of contest or something, spotting the earliest goddamn Christmas advertisement. But I guess I was way, way too late.

Does anybody know if I missed something even earlier?

Anyway, if you hear a product advertised with a sleazy Christmas tie-in before Thanksgiving, S&Y is urging a boycott of such products.



>[Name deleted to protect the... protect the... whatever] here - How goes it, man?  What are you up to?  Hope things are

>well - on to a more delicate subject - could you take me off the limerick

>mailing list - I'd appreciate it.



Just giving you a taste of how this little e-newsletter goes, sometimes.

Still, more people join than drop off.

But enjoy my misfortune--a prime source of laughter!


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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