Daily Limerick
Archives: September 2005

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)!



Book Pubsters "conserv'tive imprints"

at the new reality hint--

the Truth gets the axe;

there's two sets of facts:

respective Blue and Red State tints.



September, back to school time--so brush up on verse and literature with Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin'! And, since that long, hot summer is thankfully coming to an end, you won't be baring as much skin, so feel free to take it off, Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers, when reading (and send pictures!)...

Special "Correction" Edition!...

...(Meaning we have a correction to make and little else to say today, although there is a "Special Section," of sorts)...

Recently, we reported on New Hampshire doctor Terry Bennett, mentioning that he told a patient to lose weight for health purposes and the woman in turn complained to the state board of med.

Of course, we made fun of her, assuming it was a case of political correctness meets a fat and lazy nation.

Now, however, we've found out that the guy was...well, perhaps a bit insensitive about the matter. Telling her, for instance, that "only black guys" would be attracted to her.

We're not taking our joke back, of course. It's in the archives and all. Just pointing out that Bennett was not as professional as we indicated earlier.

On a semi-related note, it's a bit odd that a chub doesn't cause a chub, now, isn't it?...



Today's Edition: Rainbow Shrimp

Saw a chick today in some sort of sandals with each toenail painted a different color.

Dig it.

In fact, it isn't an isolated incident. I saw a woman with the same style at the grocery store recently.

Oh, I've seen it before. But the attitude used to be, as an unaccommodating ex put it, that "it's nice...when you're sixteen."

These examples were grown women, though. Well-grown, I might add, if you know what I mean.

So even though we're cruisin' toward the end of sandal season, lady Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers, go on out and get in on this trend!

By the way, in each multi-colored-toe sighting, I wanted to tell the ladies how I liked the paint job. But didn't. Thinking, of course, they'd think I was some kind of sicko.

Which I am.

Then again, YOU'RE reading this, so who are you to be callin' anybody "sicko"?...

By the way, I'm not planning a regular Fashion Spankover section, but this somehow came up twice in about a month--and both times on a Thursday.

In honor of the accidental semi-regularity of the feature, I'll also point out that I'll never forget the little Korean-haired girl at my college who only painted the nail on her big toes. Which seemed cool at first. But, after a while, I realized I wasn't so fond of that. It was just different at first.

Not sure how to end this one.

Ever notice that "dig it" and "digit" are identical except for the space?...


Final fashion note:

Slightly blue-tinted socks are in for the remainder of the summer. Thanks to a laundry accident.

Poo-poo the idea all you want. But it makes as much sense to base what's "in" on that as on the whims of a bunch of snooty women and homosexuals in New York and Milan...



Do-gooder, anti-smoker mission's

taxes are so strong, its volition

made money quite big

in smuggling cigs--

successful as ol' Prohibition!



September, back to school time--so brush up on verse and literature with Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin'! And, since that long, hot summer is thankfully coming to an end, you won't be baring as much skin, so feel free to take it off, Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers, when reading (and send pictures!)...

Concerning the situation of New Orleans and Hurricane Katrina... Hmmm. I don't know what to add.

But like every other outlet, I DID mention it. Didn't make it 90 percent of my content, sure, but I did mention it...

A survey by the Pew Research Center finds that 64 percent of us believe that creationism should be taught alongside evolution in the schools.

Frightening, of course, but this really only says something about 64 percent of people who'll make the time to participate in some lame survey...

Gallup released results of a new poll, too, asking people what they'd say to Dubya if they had a chance for a one-on-one.

As you can imagine, all sorts of hypothetical questions and statements were bandied about.

Most frightening, however, is the fact that 25 percent of respondents said they'd have nothing to say.

Frightening, of course, but... Well, just frightening, frankly...

As long as we're tossin' fright around, lemme tell ya' 'bout Nancy Curran.

Nancy, well... Readers across the United States, if they've even glanced at the news lately, know about the Fed investigations into City of Chicago government.

Nancy Curran is a private citizen organizing a rally to convince the Feds to "leave Daley alone." Well, she's recently turned herself into a public citizen, you could say, but that's beside the point.

You can fool all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, and some of the people actually bend over pre-lubed...

Oh, but the FDA is planning to up its stock of flu shots this fall and winter.

Unproven-to-do-a-damn-thing flu shots serving a 90 percent wuss constituency. And expensive buggers at that.

Feds. The same people who are in charge of protecting us from those who would destroy us. The same people who feel they know what you should be watching on TV and listening to on the CD or computer or whatever.

My. Fright has somehow pushed its way in as a theme today, hasn't it?...

Oh, and I noted today that Carson Daly's show is still on.

Carson Daly.

Fright. Fright, I tell you...




Bird Names is a weird kinda rockin' band that somehow manages to capture the essence of their name musically. Bird-like. Sorta. I mean, it's not like they do a bunch of woodpecker and loon noises or... Hard to describe. But trust me on this one.

They're also a musical treat. Basically rock, I guess you'd say, but replete with plenty of time changes and a plethora of instrumentation. When I saw 'em, they started with the typical guitars, bass and drums--but brass instruments were whipped out at points and the members were switching 'em... A treat, I tell you.

And it doesn't hurt that the oft-lead singer looks like Doogie Hauser. Or whoever the hell that actor is. With a Clark Gable-y mustache.

If that doesn't sell you, go listen to Sum 41 or Ashlee Simpson. Potato, potahto.



There once was a potheaded rube;

watched TV, smoked up, dreamed of boobs.

He'd never go far

for his repertoire

consisted of tube, doobs and lube.



Read a trade e-mail the other day trumpeting a conference or convention or some such dreck to be held in Collinsville, Ill.

The announcement went on to announce the exact location within the town, and I (obviously) paraphrase, "Conveniently located in the Blah Blah Hotel..." Hmm.

Collinsville, Illinois?


Sorry. It's already disqualified for "conveniently located" status...



Big Easy, 'spite horror and fears

can take comfort that Britney Spears

in light PR trounce

has Web site announce

she's praying--so banish your fears!



Now without the annoying, month-long standing head!...

Now I'm only going to say this once, asswipes:

While the Iraq War has certainly diverted money away from a lot of more important programs, and Dubya is no paradigm of efficiency nor a champion of the poor or of minorities... Bush didn't cause Katrina. I somehow feel a certain segment of the people need to be reminded of that.

Speaking of needed reminders, I'm having trouble recalling the Democratic party's fight for more hurricane relief money for Louisiana. So help me out here: When was it, exactly, that John Kerry made that a part of his campaign platform? Just curious...

A woman in the Chicago suburbs is going up the river for allowing her cerebral palsy-stricken son to shrivel down to 23 pounds and die.

She had to have some form of legal defense, however, and so I read this headline the other day:

"Mom Blames Stress for Letting Teen Shrivel, Die"

Oh, okay. Who doesn't need to deal with stress in some manner, whether that entails us coming home to have a beer, or a smoke, or watch a little TV, or starve our child to death slowly and sinisterly over a course of weeks...

USA Weekend is celebrating its 20th year in syndicated Sunday newspaper print today.

I'm at a loss for a suitable tribute, however, seein' as this rag is already worth little more than the value of the "paper" it's printed on...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: "In the Navy"

When I was a shaver, I liked the Village People. Had an album or two of theirs.

I was rather naive about the world, as is to be expected of a shaver. When my mom's friend was talking about them, she let on that they were gay--a term I understood the meaning of, if not the full implications nor the general phenom of tolerance (and lack thereof). So I "defended" the Village People: "They CAN'T be gay; they have songs that sing about women! Why, there's even one song CALLED 'The Women,' about how much they love them!"

Now, my father is a retired airline captain and, like many in that profession, he started as a Navy pilot.

So one Christmas, or perhaps it was a birthday, I gave him a 45--an actual vinyl record single, for Slapper Yapper Grasshopper Whippersnappers--of the Village People song "In the Navy."

It's the thought that counts, they say.

The record, however, didn't see heavy rotation.






TODAY'S POEM: American tourists

A poster of a tiger winked

its drowsy golden eyes, dragging sparks

into the rolling sea of the carpet. A kitten

scattered across the floor, all claws and frenzy:

she triplicated, kaleidoscoped, her mews

hanging in the air even after she wandered out.

The unmoving fan blades slid

from the ceiling while staying in place,

humming ingeniously.

Droplets drew from my fingers, icy hot,

sliding down matrixed flesh. My jaw

no longer held upper and lower teeth,

but five separate prisms, closing at angles

that, though disrupted, brought out the exact

pleasure one finds in closing a door until

the latch clicks.

I was transfixed by my lover on the couch.

She radiated a yellow glow that clarified

her prettiest features, easing the cruelty

from her eyes and shaping her mouth into

a benevolent charm. On most days,

this girl seemed annoyed at me.

Now we no longer concentrated on boundaries

one drew and the other redrew.

We lived as curves, timestops,

water ribbons. Her bare tolerance of me shone up

hard at points, biting into the fantasy

this evening had brought, sagging it slightly.

I held her against me, ignoring that spike.

I fascinated myself with her presence.

In my head, figure eights stripped to infinity

in Moebius dance. One from two,

a spectrum feeding,

part of breath and never a breath

needed to fix those colors in

longing spreading space.

We slept.

When morning hammered gold leaf across our

splayed bodies, we emerged awake and drove

to the mountains. I was awed by their enormity,

their stony shelves swallowing up the scenery.

We hiked to a glacial lake, and rested.

She searched through her bag,

but did not have any cigarettes left.

She shot a glance at me,

cursed the tastelessness of the American tourists

in their baseball caps, who were cracking jokes at the view.

They smoked Marlboros with confident superiority,

in a group of their own.

I imagined becoming the water in front of me --

a solace, reflecting the sun back blue.

With a private smile,

I joined in their laughter

in all its clumsy pride.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He won't bite--although he may chew a bit.]



Gas price brings U.S. introduction

to oil usage dwarfing production--

beloved SUVs

brought us to our knees

as the Weapons of Gas Destruction.



A CBS special enlists some of the top acts in popular music today to kick off New York's "Fashion Week" with "Fashion Rocks."

Anybody else long for the days when rock stars looked like something the cat dragged in?...

There are still signs, other than going on a "reality" TV show, that a Hollywood "star" is, er, career challenged:

Drew Barrymore is doing a guest voice on, not "The Simpsons," the modern inheritor of the MAD Magazine legacy, but "Family Guy," the modern inheritor of the knock-off "Cracked," er, "legacy"...

Speaking of little things saying a whole lot, USA Weekend's 20th Anniversary Edition yesterday clocked in at a whopping...20 pages!...

Oh, and today's edition is just a wellspring of those "little things."

Note: Journalism is about presenting the Truth, objectively and how it is.

USA Weekend's little celebratory issue presents a lot of nostalgia from 20 years hence. Including the original poster for "Desperately Seeking Susan."

With Madonna's cigarette Photoshoped out...

Speaking of publications of questionable worth, just learned today that Men's Vogue exists.

It's not that I'm appalled over it's existence--I've been sufficiently hardened, by the point, regarding the continued Pussification of America.

I'm actually shocked that I hadn't heard of it--living in what's generally assumed to be a "gay neighborhood" and all...

Oh, and Happy Freakin' Labor Day, while I am it, if anything whatsoever actually exists of a pro-labor movement at this point...



By David Sher

TODAY'S HAIKU: Ageing Prostate Haiku

He urinated

Like a Chicago voter -

Early and often

[If you'd like to contact the Haiku Doctor, e-mail him at davew9lya@juno.com.]



Another of nation's vast schisms--

half plead schools teach "Creationism."

'Spite porn crack-down plot

Red State money shot

has coated our science in jism.



The news behind today's Limerick is, as always, true: A Pew Research Center survey released in the last week finds that 64 percent of respondents believe "Creationism" should be taught alongside Evolution in the classroom.

I've wondered about the fairness of the term for some time, but as of now I've never been more comfortable describing the existence, in America anyway, of a Moron Majority...



While lib'rals laugh at kooks who posit

that God took Katrina and tossed it

at us for our sins

they don't even grin

and "their" nuts who act like Bush caused it.



While we've told you time and again that the Limericks, with the exception of Cheezy Saturday "traditional" ones, are always fact-based, there is a small inaccuracy in today's.

Namely, that liberals are "laughing" at the conservative kooks alluded to.

These days, conservatives do most of the laughing. And I'm not just talking about Dubya's rein--I first noticed the phenomenon in the Clinton years.

Liberals are frothing at the mouths. Shaking fingers.

And there you have it, nice and succinct--the root agitator behind the many and varied reasons I'm left politically homeless today...

Read a Letter to the Editor in the Chicago Sun-Times yesterday from some joker defending the Iraq War.

Oddly, the guy's name is William McNutt...

A new Harris Poll finds that 68 percent of the sample public has a negative view of unions.

Which is all fine and good. There are many stories out there of corruption in the labor movement and other reasons to distrust it.

However, the same poll finds that only 61 percent of the same sample has a negative view of corporate America.

Again... There's a reason Teamster jokes exist and all but... Isn't labor, whether completely and competently or not, on workers' side?

I could become ridiculously frightened mulling over the implications here. But instead I'm focusing on the possibility that Harris somehow managed to survey mostly CEOs and upper management...

The Wayans brothers are buying a car or somehow getting involved in NASCAR. In fact, they're positioning themselves as the conduit to get blacks more interested and involved in the, er, sport.

Shows you what I know. I'd think it a source of racial pride to say my people didn't see the attraction...



TODAY'S EDITION: Pork and Religion

Some religions forbid adherents to eat pork. Namely, Judaism and Islam, but I may be missing some.

It has long been the opinion of DL/S&Y that if organized religion wants to be taken seriously, it should at least change with the times now and then. For instance, "be fruitful and multiply" was good advice--thousands of years ago when it seemed like the human race could actually die off. Which is why I've been a little more open than some to ideas like "intelligent design," minus the hidden agendas anyway, because they could foretell intellectual maturation among the religious set. Possibly, anyway.

Which brings me to today's topic.

Now, thousands of years ago, it was dangerous to eat pork. Primitive refrigeration techniques and all made it dangerous meat.

No longer. Embrace pork or we ain't takin' you seriously.

Or, of course, there's just more for me.

But I still ain't taking you completely seriously...



The prob with mod politics comes

from Right-Wing, sticking to its guns

by laughing at Lib'rals

who scold, froth and quibble--

in short, "L" word's no longer fun.



So Jesse Jackson steps to the forefront of the Katrina-induced fray and registers a complaint from an angle nobody else had thought of:

The word "refugee" is inappropriate and racist.

Yeah, let's divert some of our debate time and energy to this point.

I'm sure that, if it weren't for all the rain and stuff that tends to screw-up a nice suit, he'd be right down there for the usual photo op...

Getting back to the topic of today's Limerick, I know many alleged "Liberals" who watch Fox News regularly.

It pisses them off quite often, of course, as they don't usually agree with the political slant but... Well, I steer you again to today's Limerick...



Katrina spurred activist shouts

for change--Jesse couldn't miss out.

So he entered a plea:

"Change word 'refugee'"

so he could 'least have SOMETHING to spout.



Was going to write today about how FEMA, the Federal Emergency Management Agency, has reacted to the secondhand disaster (its response to the original disaster of Katrina)--by clamping down on journalists, etc. taking photographs of the Corpse-O-Rama.

That is, solve a problem by hiding it.

Then I noticed a little later that this phenom was made fun of today by the Chicago Sun-Times' "Quick Takes" column, by Zay Smith (who has mentioned Daily Limerick twice in QT's Sunday "blog" edition).

However, somehow having no other nuggets jotted down today in my Frequently Misplace Notebook O' Ideas--a case of writer's blockhead--I figured I'd use the story as a form of "Behind the Limerick," so Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers could see an example of how I, er, painstakingly comb my sources to hit on angles that others haven't.

I know, I know--a good magician never reveals his methods.

But I'm no magician. If I were, I'd have managed to pull something else out of the Notebook.



TODAY'S EDITION: Dead Superheroes

A guitar playing male lead singer and two chicks on strings comprise Dead Superheroes. When I first saw them, to be honest, I didn't want to like 'em from the start.

Their appearance is a bit gothy, including (black) painted fingernails on a guy, which highly disturbs me but which I otherwise won't go into. And their music and lyrics waxed depressing, which usually gets real old real fast.

But they were damn good at what they did and they won me over. And while my notes are lacking as to exactly which tune, they did a cover of a song that was originally in a much different style with much different instrumentation. (One of my biggest pet peeves about cover songs surfaces when bands more-or-less remake them "as-is," cashing in on a proven hit rather than coming up with something original.)

It just goes to show you that you can't judge a band's musical book by its genre.



Young Bubbles so wanted to try in

that into her ass, Jay did pry it.

But she didn't check first

the size of his cockwurst

so she pooped like on high-fiber diet.



Attention: MySpace is lame. Get your own damn Web site if you have something to say worth listening to.

I'd give more of an explanation, but it's Extra Cheezy Saturday, you know, Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers.

Again, this just in:

MySpace is lame.



Well FEMA fucked up, and to fix it,

they cooked up a plan--like a biscuit.

Corpse pics show the mess

when shown by the Press

so... Freedom to take pics? They nix it!



There's a lot of speculation lately that racism played a part in the Bush Admin's pathetic response to Katrina.

I'm here to tell you: not so. I firmly believe that Bush has nothing specifically against blacks or any other minorities.

Concerning his prejudice toward people not born into filthy-oil-rich families, a demographic that happens to include a larger percentage of minority populations, well, that's a different story...

A University of Minnesota study found flaw with the conventional wisdom that people should "date around" and "sow the wild oats" in order to better handle future relationships.

According to the study, those who "date around" have a greater proclivity for difficulties in marriage and other long-term relationships later in life, while those who stick with a regular sweetheart or two learn relationship skills early and tend toward more successful future hook-ups.

Also this week in the World of Studies, a University of Chicago professor hit the news with his theory that human beings, while oft considered a "finished product" of Darwinism, are in fact actively still evolving.

Somehow, I think the two studies are related, although I'm at a loss to say why, much less say it with a witty capper...


"Text-Messaging Jurors Jolt Ryan Harris Trial"


Concerning the last nugget... Is "evolving" really the best term?...

Francis Ray, author of "Any Rich Man Will Do," is conducting a reading/signing at a Chicago-area K-Mart.

And not even a Super K-Mart.

Fine place to start one's search for a "rich man," though...

When encountering a beggar, a bum, a homeless-American (call them what you will), most of us experience ambiguous feelings.

On one hand, there's pity and an urge to help, leading to at least mulling the idea of forking over some change. But, of course, that attitude's tempered with many others--questioning whether your donation will do them any good (will they just buy drugs?), considering whether you're in a position to be doling out charity (I'm living paycheck-to-paycheck myself!), asking whether they deserve pity (does this guy really have some disorder or is he a dictionary-definition "bum"?), etc.

I think we desperately WANT to believe that these people are lazy, addicts--whatever. That makes it easier to shrug off the tinge of guilt that comes with keeping your eyes focused off the beggar and ears closed to his spiel.

While I occasionally do give out a bit of change or a buck, I usually don't, but there's one group of 'em I use as a form of "guilt-assuaging punching bag"--the young, white, homeless-hipster types.

I don't know if you've seen 'em. But there's a certain neighborhood of Chicago that's just lousy with 'em. I assume they're smack addicts who ran away from home because their parents were "oppressive" over their smack-addict ways.


You know, I almost killed this nugget. It was supposed to be all funny and stuff, perhaps even mentioning an occasional urge to kick one of the bastards but... In writing it, I realize it's not leading itself well to a humorous kicker--and I'm also thinking about how some of them might actually be abused runaways or... Well, something other than selfish, hipster, suburbanite-with-cushy-upbringing smackheads.

But this nugget has turned out pithy in its own way, so I didn't kill it.

Which is, ironically, giving me a tinge of guilt, artistically/literarily speaking...


CORRECTION 9/11/2005:

An item in the Sept. 10 edition of Slappin' and Yappin' misidentified MySpace as being "lame."

MySpace is, in fact, hella-lame.

Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin' regrets the error.




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Michael's Pizza

When I was a shaver, I eagerly anticipated each visit to Michael's Pizza. And I will always remember it as the world's best pizza. Ever. No questions asked.

I still, now and then, revel in that pizza parlor atmosphere Michael's conveyed. Plush booths, candles in the glass holders covered in a fishnet-y thing... It wasn't unique. I'm sure Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers have experienced the classic pizza parlor feel.

I remember eating Michael's pizza so fast that I seriously burnt the roof of my mouth. In fact, my dad actually forced me to eat Michael's pizza with a knife and fork for a while, it was so bad.

Michael's was in Crystal Lake, Illinois, a far northwest suburb of Chicago and today, while the building still stands, it no longer exists. But as I've only learned as an adult, it really doesn't matter if I could taste Michael's pizza today with mature taste buds and the experience of many other pizzas. Your childhood "best pizza place" is ALWAYS the greatest, in your own opinion, and nobody else nor any other facts or experiences can change that.

I've known people who've grown up on the East Coast and declared some pizza joint out there "the best," despite rampant evidence indicating that East Coast pizza sucks ass compared to Chicago's. Why, there are probably even West Coasters who'll maintain that CALIFORNIA PIZZA (shudder) is the best.

Sheesh. Is this sappy, or what? Am I forgetting what Web site this section is meant for?

Alright, alright. I'm sure I ogled some much-older-than-me boobs and ass at Michael's, too--ya' happy?...






TODAY'S POEM: Time to go, big guy

The sun flashes a natural strobe

through the gangly trees. It is

the one detail of this procession

that seems to have been passed over.

Who is the groundskeeper of this estate?

Perhaps the keeper is a poet:

he believes that small incongruities

burrow into the larger swathe of moments

we bundle into, moths

in memory's index.

What is the word for the practice

of leading a riderless horse ahead,

boots inserted backwards in the stirrups,

a ghost captain looking back

at the sails of a receding regatta?

I cannot keep my mind on the answer.

It stumbles again to those trees,

overgrown, unshapely. Surely the departed's

pantry contains oiled wood drawers

filled with gleaming dinner silver.

So why the trees kept wild and ungainly?

A small concern, but one that seems to overgrow

even my largest attempts at remembering

the dignitary to be interred, his actual life

and the ideologies he fathered.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He won't bite--although he may chew a bit.]




>I talked with you last night...about...bush. [H]ere is my website. Most of the bush pieces are on the second page... Hope you enjoy, let me know what you think...


> -Sarah

Finally! At last! Dirty pics just for Daily Limerick!

I'm just so excited that I...er, well... Okay.

I can't lie.

Here is the letter in its entirety:

> Hi,

> I talked with you last night at Phyliss' about some of

> the anti bush work I had sent to Flabby, Unfortunatley

> then I didn't have a business card but here is my

> website. Most of the bush pieces are on the second

> page of artwork. Hope you enjoy, let me know what you

> think.

> www.sarahfreer.com


> -Sarah


In case you couldn't figure it out, the "bush pieces" are actually related to President Bush--Photoshop-y magic of the amusing sort. And I urge Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers to check it out. I've linked it.

Nonetheless, any reference to any sort of "bush" from a female reader is progress...



Katrina gave many the itch

to call Bush racist son o' bitch.

Though black ain't his dish

he's just prejudice

against everyone who ain't rich.



How come there hasn't been a Hurricane Oprah?...

Nick Foley, a professional "wrestler," has written a book called "Scooter."

And, nope--it ain't a biography or a nonfiction work about "wrestling."

It's a novel.

For those of you awaiting the final death knell of what was once known as "literature"...

Here's a one-line movie review:

"Must Love Dogs."

The result of wanting to utilize a popular term as a movie title, without exploring the meaning of the term so much as using it to shill another run-of-the-mill romantic comedy...



CORRECTION 9/12/2005:

In the Sept. 12 edition of Slappin' and Yappin', it was reported that MySpace was "hella-lame."

Well, it's not because DL/S&Y just started a MySpace account up at http://www.myspace.com/dailylimerick.

Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin' regrets the error.


CORRECTION #2 9/12/2005:

A Correction in the Sept. 12 edition of Daily Limerick/Slappin' and Yappin' reported that MySpace was no longer lame, since DL/S&Y started up an account there.

Well... The DL/S&Y account there is itself rather lame, although we urge you to check it out, perhaps once, and forget about it. It's in Sloop's Glantamerous Links.

But we digress.

The Correction? Well, MySpace IS indeed hella-lame.

Daily Limerick/Slappin and Yappin'... Well, doesn't really give a shit about the error.



By David Sher

TODAY'S HAIKU: Photographic Haiku

When taking pictures

Of rectums, you must use the

Proper fecal length

[If you'd like to contact the Haiku Doctor, e-mail him at davew9lya@juno.com.]



U of Chi-Town guy who tries solving

Ev'lution says we're still evolving.

I think about "We"

and "real'ty" TV

and feel it's more like we're "Revolving."



"Reality TV Contestants. Serious applicants only..." Hmmm.

Funny how there's evidently no need to specify what kind of "reality" TV show is involved--physical challenge, niche professional, relationship, etc. The same type of unreal people are clamoring to be on any and all.

I'm most intrigued, however, as to what the ad placer's definition of "serious" is...

Without glorifying it through an extra section head, which no longer strikes me as amusing at this point, I have to issue a commendation to the comic strip "Monty"--especially for its Sept. 11 Sunday edition.

As Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers may or may not know, but damn well SHOULD know, the medium of daily comic strip is not within its finest artistic hour these days.

And "Monty," well... I've noted its brilliance since it was called "Robot Man." (At some point, Robot Man went back to his home planet and his Earth pal Monty continued in the strip.) Once, Robot Man was looking at houses and he visited one designed by Salvador Dali and another by M.C. Escher.

Anyway, Sunday's was so good that I had to trumpet "Monty" in some sort of public forum. And I found this one a tad bit classier than, say, a public toilet stall...



> I enjoyed the anti-Bush artwork, not because it beats the well-worn drums of

> blood=oil, which is an exhausted argument if you ask me, but more because it

> fully embraces the surreality of this presidency. That being said, Sarah

> needs to think about rejiggering her website. Perhaps "Give It To Me" makes

> sense to her as the name for a link, but for the rest of us, "Next Page"

> would make it easier to navigate her site.


> Mikey to the C

Hmmm. Valid comments, all.

However, contrary to popular belief, this is not a clearinghouse to address concerns pertinent to any Web site whatsoever.

Unless you have a beef with MySpace. We've sorta, kinda become a clearinghouse for that sort of thing, on accident...



New sites Friendster, MySpace do serve

folks who lack wit of social nerve

and find friends online--

it's the e-grapevine

to find death in forest preserve!



R. David Paulison is the new director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency.

Don't recognize the name? He's the guy behind the Department of Homeland Security's urging us all a while back to stock up on duct tape and plastic sheeting, in case of terror attack.


So look for the Feds to recommend an umbrella and galoshes to prepare for the next hurricane...

A new TV show, "Bones," features an FBI agent and a forensic anthropologist as the main characters.

FBI agent and forensics guy: Meet the new Dumb One and Wacky Neighbor!...

Speaking of originality in Hollywood/New York, MTV has a new one called "The Reality Show." It's a "reality" show about people, er, trying to get on "reality" shows.

So I'm guessing, in two or three years, they'll re-make it and then, in another year, stretch some half-assed version of the show into a feature length movie...

Man charged with killing a woman by plowing into her on a speeding bicycle:

Christopher A. Lightning.



TODAY'S EDITION: Save Albertson's!

The Albertson's grocery store chain is on the selling block.

Now, I don't think I've ever shopped at an Albertson's proper, but they happen to own Jewel, which we have here in Chicago and, out of all the places I've lived, and all the grocery stores I've shopped (mostly chains, due to the times we live in), Jewel has been the finest. Their frozen pizzas are better (and cheaper) than the major brands. And... And... And... Well, if you're not convinced yet:

My grandma even said they had the best bakery in town.

Nyah nyah!...



In reply to DL PR:

> Who does a girl have to blow to get on this stoopid list?

I'll have to say... Mike, of Accursed Verse fame. At least until I see a picture...



So FEMA has hired a new fella

who, at Homeland, spurred them to tella

us to buy duct tape--

next hurricane scrape

he'll urge folks to just buy umbrellas.



Remember when the Louisiana guy predicted 10,000 dead because of Katrina?

Current tally: 423.

I forget... Was it the governor? New Orleans mayor? Farrakhan?...


"Louisiana Spent Disaster Cash on Rain Coat, Car"

So coming from the modern, Neo-Liberal point of view... What? Bush, as the cause of all this, sold them the rain coat and car?...

A Winnipeg prison has banned tea because inmates were making a neo-tobacco by fusing the tea bag with nicotine gum and... It's all very complicated, but it apparently works.

See, the prison had banned tobacco. And now they have to... Hmm.

I guess the reasoning is that the war on illegal drugs is going so well, why not throw some legal one's into the fuzzy mix?...

The American Society of Magazine Editors, despite industry speculation, decided not to seriously reprimand the New Yorker for blurring the lines between editorial and advertising content with a big Target/editorial partnership.

Hey, this is a new millennium! News, ads, potato, potahto...

Oh, noted Green Day in ads for Verizon.

Classic punk attitude.

Punk, ads, potato, potahto...

There's a new Pink Floyd tribute album, "Back Against the wall," in which modern-day performers take classic songs and remake them in a different way.

Here's an idea for a tribute, guys:




Regarding yesterday's letter, about whom a girl has to blow in order to get on DL's press list, to which we answered Mike, of Accursed Verse fame and... Oh, see the damn archives!

Anyway, here's another reply, this time from Mike, marking a record three days of Letters to the Idiot in a row:

> Wow. I'm famous!

> .m.

Wow. Warhol was right, wasn't he?



The Department of Rat Surveillance

of New Delhi so far is failin'--

ten years, caught no rats!

So staff's welcome at

our Homeland Sec., if career's ailin'.



The news media informs us that Wednesday's death toll in Iraq was the greatest since "major combat operations ended."

So cheer up! If nothing else, that dangerous "combat" stuff is long over...

Pennsylvania has become the fourth state to have its public schools issue "obesity report cards."

Public schools need things to work on, seein' as they solved the whole "kids graduating while still functionally illiterate" problem...

Update on society's addiction to technology and gadgetry, whether or not these inventions are useful or even desirable, given their side effects:

The iPod is now the size of a candy bar smashed flat.

So that we can handily swallow 'em mistakenly in a handful of popcorn or lose 'em in a strong wind...

There was a Presidential Address last night--and not every network covered it.

Glancing at the TV grid yesterday, I could understand the importance of a "Bewitched" rerun--but a Cubs game?...

If you haven't checked out Daily Limerick's MySpace account (see Sloop's Glantamerous Links)... Well, don't bother.

In any event, I filled in the information so to discourage too much of that e-chit-chat. I wanted to start up the account simply to send people toward this site.

But I'm actually getting "friends" on the site, somehow.

With friends like those... Well, who needs stalkers?



Today's Exercise in Butholeism: Cabbie Dress Codes

Noted Knucklehead Chicago Alderman Ed Burke has proposed a dress code for cab drivers in the city.

It's much easier to take the white-knuckled flashing of your life before your eyes when the freelance reaper behind the wheel has a nice shirt...



TODAY'S EDITION: Monster-0 .com (and Velva)

That's pronounced "Monster Zero," by the way. And they actually sound monstrous at times. "The Munsters" soundtrack-esque.

Silly yet intelligent rock. Oh, and they share some members with the band "Velva"--for whom I pitched the tagline, "One letter away form Vulva." Don't think they've rolled with it, though. Oh, and I'm not including a separate link for Velva in Sloop's Glantamerous Links, as I didn't feel like it. But you can probably find 'em through this one, I trust.



A man ate one too many scones

and met chick who'd tend his love zone.

Since was constipated

he asked itch be sated

by workin' ol' rusty trombone.



My TV grid informs me of a show entitled, "Angelina Jolie."

Trivia: The "M" in "MTV" once stood for "music."



So Green Day now shills for Verizon

which some might find downright surprisin'.

"New Punk" invasion

needs sponsors to run

for a corporate backed uprisin'.



Update: National Salisbury Steak Day is set for Oct. 19 (to coincide with the kick-off of a new "South Park" season)! Mark your calendars!...


"Taliban Calls for Boycott of Afghan Vote"


Well, I guess it only makes sense that the Taliban's acting with more civility, seeing as our government's acting more and more like the Taliban...

A Pew Research Center survey this week found that 51 percent of Americans still support the Iraq War.

The survey involved 482 Republicans and 463 Democrats.

I'm no statistician, but that 482 looks suspiciously close to 51 percent.

Wouldn't want to set aside frothing partisanship over pesky thousands of deaths in vain or anything, now, would we?...

So Israel historically vacates the Gaza Strip and Palestinians, having fought and dreamt of the day they could again inhabit that section of homeland... Are now vacating Gaza in near-uncontrollable numbers to get the hell into Egypt.

After all, what good is a homeland when the Jew-huntin' there sucks?...

A new device called RCA Cell Docking System allows you to, er, use your cell phone more like a landline phone, as it is in a more convenient size and... Er, it's $150.

Nothing like new technology to force you to pay more for old technology!...

Renee Zellweger and Kenny Chesney are not only divorced after four months--but they're getting an annulment.

Laugh at your leisure...

The Chicago Bulls' Chris Duhon is now performing improv.

Some might find that a silly arrangement, but improv is a lot like basketball: You think quick on your feet--and nobody really expects it to be funny...

The National Hockey League is back in action and DL/S&Y advises Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers to... Well, ignore it. At least until teams stop blacking out home games and a majority of them no longer make the playoffs.




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: The Ghost's Desk

When I was a shaver, I attended a soccer camp, as American children focus heavily on soccer so that, once they're adults, they have it out of their systems and can ignore soccer in the American tradition.

At this soccer camp, there was a creek. Or perhaps you'd call it a crick, as there was as strong White Trash contingent to the area I grew up in.

In this crick, at the time, there was a desk. Not sure how it got there and, over the week or two I was at the camp, nobody saw fit to pull it out.

My friend and I concocted a story about said desk:

Years previous, a child in a nearby school one day came into class to find himself a brand new desk. When his mother came to pick him up that day, he was so excited that he ran out, proudly carrying the desk above his head, yelling, "Mommy, mommy! Look at my new desk!" Somehow or other, the kid fell into the crick and died. And I guess that, while they probably retrieved his corpse, they just left the desk in the water. Naturally, or more likely unnaturally, the child's ghost haunted the soccer camp from time to time, with the desk-bearing apparition repeatedly chanting, "Mommy, mommy! Look at my new desk!"

We scared some kids with the tale. Ghost sightings emerged.

We were proud of ourselves.

Hey--at least we weren't buggered at summer camp, like the rest of you.






TODAY'S POEM: Following the water out

Disaster distills stories

to spectacle. Every surrealist

of the age weighs in. See

how the bureaucracy breaks down,

unable to hold hands with suffering,

its pen dipping into the well,

sparked by the light of crying eyes.

Possessions floated out of the house

when the flood was high. Now a couch

rests upside-down on top of a child's

doll's head. But where the little girl,

and where her Mary Janes? "Isms"

painted on undamaged fences

also demand answers.

A reporter writes of dead bodies

that bobbed in the street,

now settling down, face down.

Bare-chested stoners

drink beer in chairs on their porches.

It's already history,

the fresh grief lessening.

So, your house is gone

and our city is destroyed. What next?

is what they say.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He won't bite--although he may chew a bit.]



A new goal: Now NASA does gleam--

man on moon by 2018!

At first, just seemed silly

but now I get Willies

from out-of-whack Retro Machine.



Saw a flyer the other night for a "Twenty-Something Identity Crisis Support Group."

Rough times, those twenties.

So, to anybody past the twenties, knock off your snivelin' about prostate exams and what have you. It's not like you have truly dire, "Friends"-esque worries...



By David Sher

TODAY'S HAIKU: Old Age Haiku

Men's room dilemma

Did I forget to zip my

Zipper up or down?

[If you'd like to contact the Haiku Doctor, e-mail him at davew9lya@juno.com.]



Seems each day, there's "rat-a-tat-tat,"

"kablooey," "kaboom" and all that

off there in Iraq--

but don't let cheer slack:

We've long ended "major combat."



Chicago is a new target on the front lines of the Big Mother battle to ban smoking in restaurants and bars.

Last night, I had the pleasure of viewing one of the pro-ban TV ads...and found myself flashing back to the "Just Say No" campaigns of the '80s--highly questionable claims, TV-movie-of-the-week-like melodrama, heavy use of the Fear Card.

Kinda like the Bush Admin's anti-drug campaign.

As a New Liberal somewhere is pondering the political incorrectness of Darwinism and the future public school teaching of "Diversity Design"...

In case you're wondering where all of this is taking us, here's a clue:

The University of Illinois-Chicago, in pushing around neighborhood mainstays Express Grill and Tom's Original--both eateries specializing in Polish sausages--has forced the establishments to please incoming big-bucks condo owners by...reigning in the Polish sausage scents they emit.

Express and Tom's didn't put up much of a fight, evidently, so there's no need for the "studies" just yet on the ill effects of "secondhand kielbasa"...


"Many Drivers Report Lack of Courtesy on the Road"

Who says investigative reporting is dead?...

Michael Schiavo has a new book, "Terri: The Truth."

In case you're still pissed off about the under-coverage of that story...



> What's that in your mouth on that picture? It sort of looks like a vibrator with

> the extension cord still plugged in.


> I do find it humorous that we would independently choose to use a cartoon of

> ourselves on our myspace profiles. Did you ever have a secretary named

> "Lincoln?" Maybe I could get a secretary named "Kennedy" and we can get into

> "Ripley's Believe It Or Not."


> Speaking of which, I used to live down the street from the tallest living man

> when I was a kid. Went to his house one time to visit his nephew who threw a Cub

> Scout meeting there.


> Fuckity fuck fuck fuck!

The above came to my MySpace account. So this screwtoad is now a "friend."

By the way, that is not a cartoon. It's a...daguerreotype or something. And that's a smoldering burrito in my mouth. But... Do you really "throw" a Cub Scout meeting? Unless... Are you a childless scout leader?

Oh, and I've never had a secretary, but there might be a connection yet. I HAVE met secretaries who, you could say, gave me a Lincoln Log.



Zellweger and Kenny Chesney

have been annulled--once again free.

For four months, 'twas good!

Again, Hollywood

provides us a "ha ha, he hee."



So get this:

North Korea's latest move in it's Nukey Pokey dance is to demand that the U.S. give them an atomic energy reactor, one of the sort that's supposed to make it easier to produce non-weapons-friendly atomic energy and... Well, that's not the point.

North Korea has been giving the world a runaround concerning its nukes, inspections and anti-nuclear proliferation treaties for years. Anybody with cursory knowledge of the situation has good reason to suspect they've been up to nuclear mischief for some time, even if it's hard to prove. And anybody would agree that North Korea hasn't exactly been honest, rational and friendly throughout this process. Especially galling considering that the nation is now in a state of crippling poverty and increasing irrelevance on the global political and economic scenes.

So what's a smart move in such a position? Making demands for a energy reactor?

Screwing up, b.s.-ing, making no real effort at improvement--and expecting government concessions? Who do they think they are--the airline industry?...

A murder in suburban Chicago at Frankie's Beef, Pasta and Catering may not be national news. Then again, maybe it is--I don't get my news from national TV.

However, this local story has an angle of interest to the wider nation--nay, the globe!

Edan Maya killed Carlos Lopez-Flores because Lopez, or is it Flores (I ain't dealing with Lopez-Flores again!)... Ahem.

Edan was "top fryer" at Frankie's. However, when he took a four-month trip to Mexico, Carlos became the TF. When Edan returned... Well, anger ensued.

Enough anger to cause Edan to off Carlos.

A man that motivated over the "top fryer's" position of, er, authority.

Absent the criminal proclivity, I'd say Edan's upper-management material.



TODAY'S EDITION: Biscuit Trouble

Fairly recently, I've taken to purchasing Pillsbury's "ready-to-bake" biscuits and rolls. I recall my mother preparing them years ago, remember her easily peeling a tab on the container and "pop!"--the biscuits appeared, nicely divided and conveniently held in place by the remains of a container with just enough "middle" to hold the biscuits yet wide open enough for easy biscuit removal.

Well, either I'm recalling only the sunny side of my mother's biscuit making, I'm the rare lout who screws up the process, biscuit containers are being shoddily made these days or there's a need for better biscuit tubes. If that's the case, while I know that research dollars are sparse, we must take seriously the need for advancement in the field of biscuit container technology.

At first I thought it a fluke. But in the majority of instances I've made the biscuits, the container hasn't popped. Usually, I have to cut the cardboard a bit with a knife, causing the dough to ooze out, leading to misshapen rolls and... I don't know why, but the tab never works right for me.

I could regale you for hours with my tales of biscuitry woes. But I won't. Still, can you believe one of the damn containers exploded in my fridge--if that isn't bad biscuit luck, I don't know what is... Oh, sorry. Enough of my woes.

In summation--and, while I'm at it, "You're probably wondering why I've gathered you all here today"--a culinary crisis exists, unbeknownst to most of an unsuspecting populace.

We must unite in Biscuitry!



MTV programming--peruse it.

Youth "must buy it" culture--does schmooze it.

Actor worship's raw

but here's trivia:

The "M" at one time stood for "music."



H&M, an upscale department store I've luckily not had the displeasure of being dragged to, is dropping Kate Moss as its spokesperson--or, since they probably prefer her to speak as little as possible, "shillin' model"--because of a video that surfaced in the U.K. showing Moss in the act of snorting cocaine.

The world of high-stakes modeling is not known for producing role models. But H&M is punishing Moss, nonetheless, for not living up to the make-believe ideal--or, truth be told, for getting caught.

Just what does H&M think it is--Major League Baseball?...

Chicago's long-awaited WNBA team has finally unveiled its name.

It will be... The Chicago Sky.


The Chicago... Sky?

Just you wait and see. Somebody, somewhere, will somehow be offended over the name, anyway.

That is, assuming they notice that a WNBA team has come to Chicago and, for that matter, that the WNBA exists...

Continuing our accidental sports hunk, here's a phrase from an NFL-related story I perused yesterday:

"...ticket sales were open to the public."

Funny how that fact needed pointing out. Meaning, of course, that ticket sales ARE NOT often open to the public.

The sports industry derives much profit from its image as "blue collar" and "everyman."

In big business--and please don't pretend the world of sports is anything but--you can have your cake, eat it, too--and smear it in a willing victim's face while you're at it...

While the the last sports phrase was disheartening but accurate, this one struck me as flat-out false:

"...highly anticipated..." As used, as it was anyway, describing something related to the NHL...



O'er "lack of homeland," they have flipped

so Jews gave 'em some Gaza Strip.

"Sacred" Palestine

now gets left behind

as they cross en masse to Egypt.



Paris' Prime Minister, Dominique de Villepin, is responding to the relatively low rate of Parisian births by offering financial incentives to women for having babies--especially for third or later children.

Glad to see SOMEBODY'S taking action to rectify our rampant underpopulation problem...

Saw an ad this week proclaiming, "It's not too early to start thinking about your New Year's Eve party."

Uh, yes it is...

There's a new book out called, "A New Love Connection for African American Singles: A Complete Step-by-Step Guide to Finding Friendship, Love & Marriage on 'the Net.'"

Wow. The Civil Rights Movement sure has come a long way.

Do you think Martin Luther King, Jr. envisioned a day where blacks would have equal opportunities to use their foolishness and desperation to end up corpses in a forest preserve?



TODAY'S EDITION: The Beatles are Cliche

Perhaps today's header is a bit misleading. The Beatles were an amazing band, they changed music, they were original and innovative in a way that nobody since has even come close to, blah blah blah.

But I run into all of these people today talkin' Beatles left and right, wearing Beatles T-shirts and stuff, putting up Beatles posters... Making their Beatle fandom a part of their identity, I guess you could say.

Well, I'm here to tell all of them: Knock it off. You ain't sayin' anything.

At this point, liking the Beatles is akin to saying Beethoven was a great composer. Worse, it's like saying you're against child molestation.

I suppose that, especially when they were an active band, Beatles backlashes did occur. But now their historical place is solidified and, minor quibbles aside, only crackpots challenge that place. Like Michael Stipe of R.E.M., who tried generating hubbub a few years back by saying the Beatles weren't "all that," but who was largely denied said hubbub, largely because 90 percent of R.E.M.'s career has entailed remaking the same song but... Well, I refer you back to the term "crackpot."

Anyway... Liking, even loving the Beatles is cliche.

Search for identity, take two!



A Greek girl refused to trim bush

though all of boyfriends would push

to sculpt, just a little--

so thick, fore they'd diddle

they'd have to feel 'round for the mush.






I have a "Richie Rich"...er, Colorforms-ish set, I guess you'd call it. Or is it "Color Forms-ish"? Anyway, it's a toy, of sorts, where you have a cardboard-like sheet of plastic from which you punch out two-dimensional characters. There is also a background board, where you can place the characters in whatever positions you like. Colorforms, in some version of spelling, was a prominent brand of this toy.

Usually, these come in themes, derived from popular characters. Often cartoon characters.

The one I have is a "Richie Rich" set. It comes with Richie, some moneybags, other characters whom I've forgotten the names of, etc.

And although it's not blatant, at least not at first glance, the scenery has a lot of craggy rock, a reddish-pink background and, swear on Jennifer Love Hewitt's, um, ankles, a devilish looking character.

Richie Rich in Hell.

Ah, teaching children about unchecked capitalism!



Ads meddling for Chi-Town "smoke-free"

(cause du jour of Lib'ral Elite)

cite question'ble facts

with "Just Say No" tact--

in line with Bush drug policy!



A reminder: Oct. 19 is National Salisbury Steak Day (says Daily Limerick)!...

And speaking of today's limerick, don't TV ads cost a whole lot of money? Don't you think it'd make more sense for orgs like the American Cancer Society to lay off causes citing research that's been declared hooey by an appeals court (I could in detail, and on and on, but won't)--and instead, oh, I don't know, perhaps use the dough to find a cancer cure?

Do you get the feeling some of the more frothing do-gooders might not actually WANT a cancer cure, considering it'd make it more difficult for them to advance anti-smoking causes?...

Learned this week about Narconon, a Scientology version of a 12-step program.

Wherein, I guess, you get the same pitiful results--but spend a whole lot of money for it...

Also learned this week of the therapist psychobabble term "functional psychopath."

So, even our dangerous lunatics are succumbing to the Great Disneyfication...

Stumbled across an apt title for a horror movie through an identifier of one Rob Belushi, in a story on a new Chicago comedy troupe:

"Son of ABC's 'According to Jim' star Jim Belushi"

Ahhh! Head for the hills!...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: My First Striptease

I'm sure we all get a little misty recalling our first striptease, so forgive me if I wax sappy.

It must have been... Sixth grade? No later than that, but sometime in grade school. We had some half-assed form of "career day" at school, wherein everyone in class talked a bit about what it was they wanted to be when they grew up, and a girl in class, we'll call her "K," afterward told us that she just B.S.'d the teacher--and really wanted to be a striptease.

I haven't seen or heard anything of K since that time. Suppose I could set to the Internet to find out what became of her, but I don't feel like it and thus have no idea. She was from a troubled background. Was very pretty and seemed to take a liking to me, which was a real rarity for me in grade school. I didn't "like her back," at least not in "that way," but considered her a friend, I suppose.

K revealed her stripper ambitions to a group of us and, us being prepubescent boys, we naturally asked her to give us a striptease, despite her being built like a board, which wasn't odd for a sixth grade girl. And she agreed to it. Sort of.

We gathered in the cornfield next to my house, waiting in a clearing as K hid behind some stalks, readying to emerge with the anticipated act. She stalled a bit. "I'm too embarrassed," she said. One of us countered, "Well, you've gotta get over that if you're gonna be a striptease." Etc., Etc.

At one point, she stuck her foot and calve out into our view and kicked off her clog, wiggling her foot a bit, displaying a holey sock. Then she poked her head out and... "I can't do this," she said.

We pleaded, begged; she cried "embarrassed," etc. This went on for some time.

The clog kick-off happened at least one more time, but at some point she just said it was getting late and she had to get home.

I've seen much better striptease acts since then.

But have gotta admit I'm still a wee bit turned on by a woman in clogs.







Progress, some time slowly.

I trick myself less and less,

but knowing that I trick myself

shows me there's a distance left.

Of unrelated things

my memories of her may spring.

Not quite her face nor voice,

which I've misremembered

(forgotten, then).

The general height of time measures

my sought out conversations,

against what starts to fill me.

What the days decided.

Now I must convince my past

the job's no longer posted.

[If you'd like to physically thank or berate the poet, e-mail him at b_squirrel@hotmail.com. He won't bite--although he may chew a bit.]



Mike Schiavo's book, "Terri: The Truth"

brings back hubbub long in the tooth.

Were happy to say

that "news went away"--

put Mike in a damn soundproof booth!




Here we are. Another one of those rare days where I have no new nuggets in my Notebook O' Ideas and thus writer's bleech.

Nothing to say.

Which apparently wouldn't matter if I were a sportscaster of some sort...



By David Sher

TODAY'S HAIKU: Good Advice Haiku

If you ever dream

That you have to urinate,

Better wake up NOW

[If you'd like to contact the Haiku Doctor, e-mail him at davew9lya@juno.com.]



Sportscasters who do play-by-play

do sort out the action-packed fray

but most work entails

lame stats and dumb tales

while struggling for SOMETHING to say.



Ill. Sen. Richard Durbin is getting kudos for introducing a bill of ethics for the FDA, coming on the heels of scandals involving self-interested department employees and dangerous drugs, ala Vioxx.

Of course, Durbin's action is commendable.

But don't let it distract you from the fact that the whole lot of the crooked bastards neglected to see ethics as important in matters affecting our very lives to begin with...

London's Tate Museum is taking down an exhibit by John Latham, "God is Great," because it threatens to incense Muslims.

You see, the exhibit includes torn fragments from the Koran (or Qua'ran, or whatever the latest hip spelling is out there in the Major Media).

The exhibit also includes fragments of the Torah and the Bible, but Jews and Christians aren't exactly leading the terror charge these days and... Well, the "post 9-11 climate" was cited in the decision so, apparently, kids, crime DOES pay, at least in an auxiliary manner, sometimes...

A new, all-expansive national sex survey by the Centers for Disease Control and Protection finds... Well, a lot of things, but one in particular to Slappin' and Yappin':

When asked their sexual orientation, a whopping four percent among both sexes answered not "heterosexual," not "homosexual," not "bisexual," not even "no answer"--but "something else."

Either there's way more bestiality than we once thought or the wheels are in motion for a future P.C. Language Bomb--perhaps "non-same-sex-only-oriented Americans"?...

I've recently discovered something about TV:

The comedy shows that stay on-air the longest are either really, truly excellent or Godawful.

Guess which is easier to produce and you understand 99 percent of Hollywood's inner workings...

Once again, I'm being done in by the Moron Majority. Foiled by our collective, raging stupidity.

I've told the tale before, perhaps multiple times, of my of my opinions on, and initial experiences surrounding, Caller ID. How I worked at a cell phone/etc. emporium when Caller ID came out and how it was slow moving. See, people didn't understand the attraction of a glorified answering machine, not to mention one that carried the added bonus of requiring you to pay the phone company for its use.

Oh, I could go on. And on. And I have. But if you missed it or don't recall, see the 'chives--or try Googling something like "limerick and yappin' and caller ID." Really. Such a thing works. Delight for one and all!

Anyway, thanks to a nation lubed-up and bent over for the marketing, they pushed and pushed and sold Caller ID. It went so well that, today, everybody assumes you have it. So I come home to an answering machine message today that just says, "Sloop Dog!"

Now, there ain't a whole lot of people who call me "Sloop Dog," but enough suspects to render the message worthless, practically speaking.

Resistance is futile, some might say.

I say it's fertile.

"Resistance is fertile" just sounds cool, so don't worry your silly little head about exactly what it means...



So Cin Sheehan has got arrested

(and of, me thinks, too much protested).

But son volunteered;

of anti-war peers

I'd like prom'nent status contested.




"Iraq: Rebels Line Five Teachers Against Wall and Kill Them"

Here in America, we force our ideas of "intelligent design" upon schoolchildren in a much more civilized manner...

The IRA now says it will disarm.

Hmmm. Sure.

Who do they think they are? North Korea?...

Time-Warned and MTV are joining forces to created music videos just for cell phones.

Just what we need. People around us are just too focused these days, aren't they?

For those thinking the mega-merger-conglomeratization of the economy couldn't get any more evil.



TODAY'S EDITION: The Banana "Equator" Scam

The old Chiquita banana song threatens that bananas shouldn't be put in the refrigerator. Which I have no qualms with.

But the song also explains this situation as due to the fact that bananas grow 'round the equator.

But so do jalopenos. And those are best refrigerated, in my experience.




The IRA says that they'll be-a

disarming (but most say, "we'll see-a").

Just who, har dee har,

do they think they are?

Iran--or perhaps North Korea?



One day, can I just have ONE day, where I don't walk to public transport and call somebody along the way, in my head anyway, "fuckin' moron"?



Mass cash on the TV ad blitz--

with second-hand science, P.C.-fit--

for smoke-free mandates

was nearly misplaced

in grants for cure search or some shit.




"Red Cross Draws Criticism for its Response to Katrina"

There hasn't been a lot of hubbub concerning this one. Criticism season only starts these days when an organization screws up and there's somebody, anybody even vaguely Republican involved...

Do you remember Ashley Smith? C'mon, the "hero"?

When Brian Nichols went on a shooting rampage last March in an Atlanta courthouse, Smith was taken hostage by Nichols and managed to talk him into ending the shoot-'em-up.

Well now, her pop culturally mandated book reveals that she offered him some of the crystal meth she had around to feed her raging addiction.

Drug use thus saved her life. And a lot of others'.

So... Where's the PSA?...

The University of Iowa's stadium has a visiting team locker room that's painted pink. (Or is it Iowa State's?--my source is shoddy and you can Google it if it's that important to ya')

This has spurred Iowa law professor Erin Buzivis to fuss. According to Buzivis, "With a pink locker room, you're saying, 'You are a girly man.' That implies that girls are nondominant, therefore lesser."

Gee. I was gonna go off on some tangent about how she needs a bigger course load or something to burn off that free time, but I guess they should listen to her, seein' as she speaks paint...

Course offering:

"Child Abuse Training for Mandated Reporters"

Thank God! I've been slappin' kids around but it just doesn't seem to hurt 'em like it should...

The adjective "homestyle" is frequently used in restaurant advertising.

But taken literally, as it relates to today's world, I don't think it's good for marketing.

Who wants to pay good money for something truly made "homestyle"--ridiculously  processed and straight from the freezer?




Greenlight is a rockin' band--"rockin'," that is, in a way predating the word "rockin'" as a source of mirth-making.

Lots of time changes. Good lyrics, of which this "reporter" neglected to jot any down. Thumpin', all-over-the-place bass--and a bass player who plays with his fingers, as God intended, and as I do, or mostly did, back when I was in Godawful bands many moons ago.

Oh and while they're rockin', they're also melodic. Tuneful. What have you. And as the non-mirth-making-friendly interpretation of "rockin'" makes its obligatory retro return, that's something many modern "rockin'" bands are forgetting.

Then again, perhaps a sense of melody has been focus-grouped as interfering with cell phones sales or something.


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