Daily Limerick
Archives: July 2012

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)!



Cleared health care reform? Praise--I'll shout it!

Though insurance mandate? Can't tout it!

Still fucked--far from perfect--

but rather than jerk it

least someone did SOMETHING about it!



So this past Thursday, everybody was eagerly anticipating the news from the Supreme Court on the Constitutionality of Obama's health care reform.

Many moons ago, folks had to wait for the afternoon edition of the newspaper, unless the town cryer had an inside scoop. For myself (Chief Limericist checking in, here), I still just wait for the newspaper for general news, although I occasionally learn things via "The Daily Show."

Although since the unfortunate rise of stuff like Twitter, which I've been roped into using because you're "supposed to" (although, as with all social networking, it's done nothing but waste time for me)... Well, I occasionally see some breaking news.

I don't do much of anything, 'cept post my Limericks, on Twitter, but I do see the top of the news feed when I check in.

Thursday was one of those rare instances where I consider turning on some news TV in the background--breaking news for which I'd rather not await the next morning's paper. But I didn't have to do that because... Well, Twitter.

So... Am I actually admitting some positives to Twitter?

Well, I've already admitted some positives to social networking. There was the Iranian uprising facilitated via Twitter...although it failed. And there was... Well, I'm sure one or two positives have come out of it.

Thursday's Twitter check-in did strengthen my love/hate relationship to the site. More properly, my love/creeped-out relationship with it. And "love" is far too strong a word, perhaps "kinda like" but... Anyway.

See, I learned of the health care decision thanks to a feed from... Ellen DeGeneres.

I like Ellen and all, but not counting her as a "news source" I... Hmmm.

Modern news sure makes for strange Twit Fellows...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Living as the Other 10 Percent Lives...Sorta

In 2001, perhaps into 2002, I was a staff writer for Pride Magazine.

Yes--a gay, lesbian, etc. magazine. One that no longer exists. Wouldn't doubt that there are, or have been, other gay magazines using the obvious name, but the one that I worked for--which also published a Seattle and Denver edition out of the Chicago office, plus phonebooks for a gay-friendly community--is defunct. Although it MAY still exist with different names for its publications... We'll get to that.

I'm penning this just after Chicago's big Pride Parade. Should be obvious why the topic came to mind.

So how does a straight guy end up working for a gay rag? While any specialty publication is likely staffed by members of the demographics served, it doesn't have to be a rigid rule. I suppose a bona fide occupational qualification for a chief editor, or other high-ups, of, say, a women's publication, might rightfully be to BE a woman, for instance. But journalists are adept at becoming an "expert in a day" for all sorts of topics, so... Yeah. Needn't be gay for such a position.

Nonetheless, especially with the state of publishing in recent times, with employers able to pick and choose from piles of qualified candidates, it did seem odd that I'd been hired by the mag. I'm in favor of full rights for gays and lesbians. Perhaps know a bit more about the demographic than most, having worked at arts nonprofits and generally mixing with the artsy set. But... Yeah. Seemed a bit odd to me, nonetheless.

If, by some miracle, I'd have had multiple job offers, I might've passed-up the Pride opportunity. That not being the case, I was just happy to have found something in my field--and a reason to leave an extended temp gig.

Two other straight guys were hired as staff writers when I came aboard, stoking the old Odd Meter further. Those two were recent graduates, and we three constituted the entire writing staff--although some ad salespeople, gay guys, also wrote some pieces.

So... The whole situation was weird--and beyond the gay/straight balance of staff. Odd that an entire department was hired at once, for a pub that wasn't new. Odd that, I'd soon notice, there was a whole lot of turnover. In fact, I'd eventually learn that the boss/publishers was a total asshole, turning up the assholism as employees neared a point of obtaining benefits in the hopes that they'd quit--which most did. Those few who toughed it out at that point were fired for trumped-up reasons.

Maybe Boss Man had been screwed over by employees before. While a U.S. citizen, he was originally from Israel, so maybe he'd been treated like crap as a mere employee (I've heard before that many other countries are even worse for labor), so was just darkly "passing it on." Whatever his reasons, he didn't trust us. We couldn't leave the office to interview people or visit establishments we'd profile.

I was only employed there for six months. At that point the Boss Man was crying financial trouble, that he might cease publishing (although he reformed the pubs with different names soon after we were all gone, a modus operandi he'd used before, perhaps as a rule), and it boiled down to me and one other editorial staffer, the designer, left. The designer was paid as a "contract employee," leaving me, the only laid-off, full-time employee, the only one eligible for unemployment, so I was laid-off and told, to my face, I could apply for such benefits.

The benefits were challenged by the bastard anyway. I won, at first. But a while down the line, the benes were challenged via some arbitrator and a phone arbitration eventually killed my unemployment. Boss Man claimed I had... Oh, don't even remember all the particulars. Point is, the asshole had a system.

I'm not sure how the hiring of a straight staff played into that system. In time I learned that Boss Man wasn't exactly respected in the overall gay community, so maybe he figured we'd be unlikely to know of his rep as an employer. Maybe he figured we'd be less likely to have an editorial vision for the publications, feeling we weren't in-the-know, thus leaving him undisturbed as Editorial Dictator. Maybe he had a thing for straight guys, not uncommon among gays... I don't know. At one point he did say our stories lacked gay sensibility, so maybe it was just another possible bullet in his Gun of Firing Reasons... Anyhoo.

This doesn't mean the experience was all bad. In fact, it was mostly positive. I've always been interested in the diversity of sexuality--my college "oceanography" term paper was about sexual deviance among dolphins. My coworkers were fun and personable, the job required staffing booths at various festivals and such on occasion (with Boss Man present--an exception to the "don't leave the office" rule). And I think I had it better than just about anybody else there. The salespeople seemed to get the brunt of the evil, for whatever reason--editorial was attacked last. And I was enlisted not only as Boss Man's personal assistant--occasional business letters and such--but was also his go-to writer, handling the stories he dubbed most important.

Was I nervous about going to work for a gay mag? Well, yes. Of course, I'd feel a bit weird going to work at a woman's magazine or a Chinese-American rag or anything similarly out of my personal realm in tone. And, yes, while I'm far from a homophobe, I was a bit en guarde, especially at first, wondering whether I'd get...you know, approached. But that's not as much homophobe as... Well, guys aren't used to handling unwelcome advances. Yeah, chicks do hit on guys, but it's usually far more subtle than from a guy.

And because guys aren't regularly, blatantly hit on by chicks, I did like the attention and flirtation. I was in fact never blatantly hit on. The designer stopped by my place once, for one of our many discussions about how to handle the increasingly uncomfortable workplace, and I got the feeling he was subtly fishing for a hit--there are in fact straight guys, not just "straight" guys, who'll indulge something like that, out of sheer horniness... But that was it, as far as any pass-making was concerned.

I learned a lot about gay stuff. It was an environment that encouraged questions about such things, too. Learned about tops and bottoms, coming-outs and... Stereotypes? Well, I learned "both sides" of the stereotypes. On one hand, the stereotypes have factual basis--lot of promiscuity, show tune love, etc. But also met a couple huge gay sports fans, one who couldn't stand musicals and Boss Man? He was a chubby, hulking slob. Still have the image of him walking around with a sausage (or was it a cucumber...I forget), carrying it like a club, occasionally nibbling on it and generally appearing like a caveman.

So... Over a six-month-ish stint at a job, I had some fun out-of-office work, learned much about a new community, was likely hit on and was subject to a raging asshole of a boss who forced-out and or questionably fired folks to avoid paying benefits and accomplish a sinister agenda.

In other words, it was like most every other job I've ever held...



A token kept for mem'ries deep sake

is commonly labeled a "keepsake."

But when mem'ry's flavor be

someone unsavory?

Why, then you call it a "creepsake"!



So, we were togglin' around our cable-TV-based "radio" stations the other day, a'listenin' to the "Hot Hits," as a pathetic means of remaining Hip to the Jive and all and... Justin Bieber?

Stud and sex symbol to girls everywhere?

Being in a different room (unable to see the TV's identifier of song and artist) and not being super familiar with the Master of Manhood's work, one of Bieber's tunes came on and... Well, I thought it was a CHICK singing.

Lest I get all crotchety about These Kids These Days, I'll also admit that it occurred to me, while hearing the Four Seasons' "Walk Like a Man" ("Talk like a man..."), that... Well. Advice on bein' manly complements of a screechingly falsetto high voice. From another generation's Biebers.

All this while emphasizing with another oldies tune about "Saturday night and I ain't got nobody"... Ahem.

Who the hell are we to be tossin' around the ol' Girlie Man label?

Time to powder our noses and hit the town!...



My news? Wait for morn paper's "hello."

But Court/health care? Couldn't wait mellow!

Near turned on some cable news;

checked feeds, from...Ellen knew?

News now sure makes strange Tweet-fellows!



Seems to us that Christmas isn't the only time of year where one's chestnuts are roasted!...



Historic date--Fourth of July!

U.S. Founding Fathers, so wise,

this date, did decree...

Well, apparently,

great vehicle and mattress buys!



Happy Extra Cheezy Independence Day!...



To new heat marks, this summer's coasted!

Screw Hell--here on Earth, Satan's hosted!

Globe Warming, new rules--

need not wait for Yule

to have your fine chestnuts well roasted!



So A&E Network is launching a "new" show about events before Alfred Hitchcock's "Psycho," called "Bates Motel."

Curiously, Hollywood's becoming real original in its quest to avoid originality...



Way back, for mail, I'd watch the clock--

cards, letters, fun stuff? Often'd rock!

Long gone are mail's thrills--

rejection, junk, bills...

In fact, now it's just Bad News Box!



Got a romantic idea for you Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers.

Around here, Chicago area, there are these places called Sybaris. Adult fantasy hotel kinda things--rooms with giant hot tubs and all that.

Well, take your lady, or man, to a Sybaris and, to complete the romantic mood, for lighting use...one of those CSI-kinda DNA black lights!...



A sly bagel maker thought slap near

in make-out, though as he hit lap... Clear!

So for cunnilingus

rubbed cream cheese from finga's--

modus operandi, the "pap shmear"!



One of those Hustler Stores opened near me.

In the mail, I received a sturdy, embossed "Hustler Cash" card, worth $10 off a Hustler purchase.

I'm keeping it around. It tempts me. The chick emblazoned thereon is rather hot... However.

I'm currently single.

Truth be told, ridiculously single. In fact, while life's unpredictable and all, the extended forecast doesn't show much on the horizon.

Aw, hell. The extended-extended prognostication in the Farmer's freakin' Almanac ain't showing much.

So, since it doesn't give me a lot of time, I might just have to let that Hustler Cash expire.

Don't think I'll be cultivating the proper persona mystique by shopping out a DVD and some lube...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...



At Sybaris, couples spend night--

hot tubs, fantasies to excite!

I'd say, to exude

most, er, "special" mood?

Try DNA-showing black light!



So Chuck E. Cheese, namesake mascot for the kids' entertainment/bad pizza emporiums has been made over to become... Chuck E. Cheese, rock star.

Make merry over it if you will, but as a musician, he's every bit as valid as an "American Idol" winner...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Cabin Fever...in the Spaceship

Like many people in my home, Chicago, and places with similar climates, extremes of the seasons lead me to extended periods where I only leave the house when I absolutely must.

Thus you can count me among the many people who talk about moving to another climate. What makes me different is that while most talk about moving to someplace like Hawaii, California or Florida, I'm currently thinking...Alaska. And the "cabin fever" I just described refers to the time I'm penning this--July.

Now, I'm a fan of summer. In fact, a fan of all seasons. Which is why Los Angeles weather seemed so (aptly) artificial to me when I lived there, although summer 70s are far more common than summer 90s. In truth, having lived in the Chicago area for almost my entire life, cabin fever is historically rare during Chicago summers--handful of days in the 90s on average, maybe a week or two of straight, hellish temps. Rest of the summer, revel in seeing more of the ladies exposed.

This year, however, I've been praying for a fast-forward to October since early June. We've already hit 100 degrees once, are on-pace to break century-old heat records of all sorts and... Global warming? Deny it and you might as well argue the world is flat--just coincidence that all these long-standing heat records are falling over the last decade or so?

Looking at the forecast for the week ahead... Honestly, if it's gonna be like this every summer, I may HAVE to move north. And don't go blaming humidity--I've been places like Las Vegas and while, sure, dryness makes it easier to bear, 90 degrees is 90 degrees.

I'll admit, too, that I'm a cold weather person. And while it seems every relationship has one person always turning up the thermostat and the other always turning down, I don't think that necessarily makes the turner-down a "cold weather person," proper.

You won't catch me bitchin' about the cold during Chicago's Januaries. Oh, I'm human, so can't say I've never moaned during single digits and such--but in climates like Chicago's, "cold bitchin'" becomes the major conversation topic of the day. Sure, whatever the weather, it fuels small talk--blather about wanting to watch Christmas movies surfaces regularly 'round these parts lately--but you can't enter an office or convenience store or bus/train WITHOUT overhearing talk of Florida and such for January and February in their entireties.

I'm a quarter Polish and a quarter Russian; my skin doesn't even tan unless it burns first; I'm technically even allergic to the sun (although the reaction is just small, painless hive-bumps and only after lengthy, unprotected exposure)...but I'm starting to compete for a Digression Award here.

Point is, I'm cooped-up with summer cabin fever. With this weather, plenty of non-cold weather folks are experiencing the same. And this is far worse than winter's cabin fever. Partly because you don't expect this. People get in fall/winter mode, plan on renting movies, cooking stuff like roasts, building fires, snuggling under blankets on the couch. By the time May hits, folks are just itchin' to spend time outside and... Sealed-up, you look out your window and you don't see snow, bare trees and a sun going down at 4:30 p.m. It looks inviting, tempting and frustrating you.

It all just seems so, so wrong.

The biggest fiend, as far as I'm concerned, is air conditioning. I can't stand it. I'll tough it out much of the time, just say "no" to the AC, even into the mid 90s sometimes if it's for a mere day or so because... Hey, it's freakin' summer! I've got a decent fan, it's supposed to be warm in the summer and I want the windows open!

Winter's omnipresent radiator humming somehow just seems more...natural, or something? Of course, cavemen were warming by fires since humanity's beginning and air conditioning is, what, less than a century old? But there's something else to it.

Central air, window units, it's all the same. I'm admittedly an idiot regarding the science behind it all, but somehow I still FEEL the heat, despite being cooled. Oh, air conditioning's a life saver and all, does wonders for personal comfort but... Somehow it feels like more of a cover-up to me. Where heat changes the temperature, air conditioning just seems to...disguise it or something? Like the sweat's still being generated, but hanging just under the skin rather than erupting full-out?

Others have agreed with me on this assessment. Even certifiable wannabe Florida residents. And while I don't know the science, I do have some evidence to support my contention.

Years ago, I bought a travel alarm clock. Never used it much, but it's still in my living room because it comes equipped with a temperature gauge. Now, this cheapo device is not known for accuracy (I've fiddled with it a bit, different seasons, outside/inside), but it's at least ballpark. And as I'm penning this, it's 90-something outside, my air conditioners have been going for a couple days, the place is primed and "comfortable" but... The temperature reading on the gauge is 92.8 degrees Fahrenheit.

One way I deal with the air conditioning-induced claustrophobia is pretending I'm in a spaceship. On a long trip, perhaps leaping across light years, cooped-up but part of something exciting... Hey! I don't actually don a spacesuit or play "Star Trek." Usually... I just keep that thought in the back of my mind, one of those mental tricks to make life's burdens more bearable.

But, well... Even that often backfires. Rather than approaching a promising new planet or star system, it seems more like a "Twilight Zone" episode wherein I lose contact with Mother Earth and am just gonna die of old age and/or boredom, sealed off from any human contact and... Oh, damn this freakin' heat...



Reworked Chuck E. Cheese mascot enters--

"rock star"! His guitar brings ear splinters!

Don't knock Chuck's pow'r ballads--

"career's" just as valid

as a "'Merican Idol" winner!



Visiting my parents over last weekend, briefly alone as the Ps were off to some morning medical appointments, the doorbell rang and I was greeted by two...Jehovah's Witnesses.

Didn't bother me too much. Passed me a pamphlet.

The one young lady was rather comely. In her conservative yet summery dress and peep-toe pumps, why... Let's just say a few thoughts ran through my head about... Alright. I envisioned doin' her up, nine ways 'til Sunday.

The beauty of this situation is that I think each of us can find our own lesson in this little tale...



Though science advances, Time's seen us

grow dumber on Ev'lution theme bus!

In "pride" we'll soon revel,

hit unforeseen level...

Stupidity's version of "genius"!



In my Sisyphusian job/gig site-checking routine, came across an ad reading something like this--

"Tired of sending out resumes and not hearing back? Here's how to land your dream job in journalism!"

We didn't click on the link, but we're pretty sure Step One goes like this--

"Build a time machine"...



Hot blonde visitor? Four-leaf clova'?

Not quite--was Witness of Jehovah!

Seemed rather ironic--

her mind on God's Tonic

while mine "witnessed" her nude, bent ova'!



One huge downside to hot and humid weather that's seemingly never talked about?

Its affect on certain foodstuffs.

This damn weather harshes my Cheetos...



Thirteen years of Lim'ricks--achieved

today on Friday Thirteenth Eve!

So... Festive yet eerie?

My plans, if must query...

Check in my pants, not up my sleeve!



Happy Extra Cheezy Thirteenth Birthday to Daily Limerick!...

That's right. Thirteen years of this stuff. Could've certainly counted-down, and/or tossed out more to-do, but... Maybe for the 15th?...



When temps and the humidity goes

sky high, folks complain with a free flow--

which brings no relief.

Yet I'll add my beef--

this sticky air harshes my Cheetos!



Happy Extra Cheezy Friday the Thirteenth!...

(Judging by the weather, this must be the Caribbean/voodoo edition...)



A cow-lovin' sicko named Mingus

was caught, pants down, in a mid-fling bust!

Cop couldn't help hurling

for act caught unfurling

was best described as..."Angus-lingus"?



Saw some free chickie mag in one of those newspaper dispenser thingies trumpeting this special feature within--

"100 Women to Watch"


By our count, with, what, 150 million females in the U.S., discounting the under- and overaged, even knocking off the fatties... Hell, there've gotta be at least a million worth watching, especially with summer fashions workin' now...



When I started yoga, seemed strange--

odd, mystic! But now... Whew! Things change!

So hip, whole point's blasphemed!

Now seems capit'list themed--

like joint by me... "Om on the Range"?



Charlie Sheen is reportedly in the mix as a possible future judge on "American Idol."

See, Charlie's career is at a point where... Hmmm.

Okay, the basic idea behind "Idol"... Well.

There's just too much opportunity for jokery here. We'll leave that to the bloggers...er, amateurs...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Thirteen Years..

...Of doing this crap.

If this doesn't warrant a summer day's blow-off edition, just what does?...



Our old pal, Mike, of former Accursed Verse fame, checks in regarding the Big Anniversary last Tuesday--

> I just wanted to say congratulations on the milestone...

> if congratulations is the right word for penning limericks

> for 13 years. Yeah, it is. Congrats!

Thanks...if that's the right word.

Still on the fence here, whether to celebrate or...seek help...



On teen trends, I'm far from an Earl.

But guy heartthrobs culture unfurls?

Take Bieber, for instance--

first hearing, my inf'rence

was... Well, could've sworn was a GIRL!



With Daily Limerick experiencing the 13 Year mark last Thursday, July 12, many might feel it's a fine time for a redesign of this rather Spartan site.

Well, you'd "feel" wrong.

Still your Tricycle on the Information Super Highway...



So "Bates Motel's" show soon to hit TV--

exploring, of course, Hitchcock back story.

Hollywood's oddly, I'll 'fess,

original in quest--

to avoid originality!



So the tell-all book by former John Edwards slut Rielle Hunter is...bombing?

So there are boundaries to Americans' collection bad taste?

Dare we say that we might only allow ourselves to de-evolve so far?

We're writing it off, for now, as a mere fluke.

Can't re-write the laws of pop cultural science lightly, you know...



So John Edwards' slutbag Rielle's

new tell-all book's a...lousy sell?

Has pop culture taste went

to bottom of basement?

I thought it were bottomless well!



Since I had a coupon, picked up some Blue Bunny ice cream recently.

Mmmm. Some Bunny Tracks, with peanut butter cups...er, peanut butter bunnies and all that.

It being of the more economical variety, I may have grabbed some Blue Bunny without the coupon. In fact, I ended up grabbing some Bunny Tracks in addition to what the coupon specifically applied to--"Chef Duff" creations.

I grabbed some Chef Duff strawberry shortcake something or other, which seemed like the best Duff option, although... Well, Chef Duff sucks.

Actually, I don't know much about the chef, he may indeed be a fine one, but the ice cream flavor options... Well, I preferred the standbys. Hence, the extra tub of Bunny Tracks, which didn't allow me the coupon discount.

So let that be a lesson to you.

Er... You don't need to get fancy-shmancy about ice cream.

It's hot, humid... Grab some traditional yum--and be very careful gettin' experimental...



Mailed card with "cash" for Hustler store--

and nearby joint, mean to explore...

But now...rather single.

Could browse flicks, lube, mingle...

Not quite "mystique" I'm shootin' for!




Try Global BROILING.

For Elvis' sake, we just walked out to mail something and saw Satan--enjoying the weather, but nonetheless eager to get back home, where it's a little cooler...



So... "100 Women to Watch"?

Says mag cover--talk 'bout a botch!

Quick walk, summer rounds,

a dozen plus found

worth leer and dream of bedpost notch!



So France's Right-leaning National Front party is threatening to sue Madonna over a tour video that... Wow.

Curiously enough, we're just shocked that... Well, that somebody out there's still shocked by Madonna...



An aftershave maker did mull a

new quaint fragrance while wracking skull a'

his girlfriend, muff diving...

Name that seemed most jiving

with pungent scent was... Aqua Vulva!



Chief Limericist checking in, here.

I'm not a fictional character--but I play one in real life...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...



France--National Front party's gonna

sue Mater'yal Girl! Tour vid done a

bash job on its flock.

But what has me shocked?

That someone's still shocked by Madonna!



This past week, caught an old episode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" with a Christmas theme.

It was actually very good. Very Christmas-y, too. And we have high standards regarding "Christmas-y."

Still, something about the combination of July, Christmas and Hitchcock sorta... Aw hell. One of those "so bad it's good" things...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: "Your Mama Dresses You Funny"

I remember the day my mother stopped dressing me, almost as if it were yesterday... Maybe because it was.

Well, no. That's not true. And my mom actually dressing me goes back so far, I don't remember it at all. What I'm talking about is how, when I was a wee, past the point of being physically dressed, my mother laid out my clothes for me each day.

I sorta, semi-recall writing about this before in Sunday Story Time, maybe, perhaps... See, I've been at this DL stuff for thirteen years, as of the 12th of this month actually, haven't kept an organized list of SST topics and something's screwing with my computer's "find text" kinda function and... In any event, I've stumbled upon a new revelation on the matter.

One day in grade school, I was wearing my Cub Scout uniform. Maybe it was my Webelo uniform--for the group between Cub and Boy Scouts, as I never went on to Boy Scouts... Point is, a fellow student, can't remember who but recall him as more of an acquaintance than a "friend" proper... Well, he made fun of me wearing the uniform to school.

It was protocol, at some point, to wear your Scout uniform to school when there were a den meeting or whatever that evening. Guess it started as a way to promote Scouting. Well, as boys progressed through kiddom, they'd reach a point where the uniform seemed dorky and they'd forego wearing it to school.

I hadn't noticed. See, as I pointed out in my defense to the uniform critic, I just put on the clothes my mother had laid out for me.

Thus, the kid backed off the Scout fun-making and seized upon, "You MOM still dresses you?"

I went right home that day and told my mom that I was laying out my own clothes from that point onward and it's been that way ever since. Well, I can't claim a woman in my life has never told me what to where to a certain event, but... Point?

I still lay out my clothes.

Not talking about choosing clothes or dressing myself. I go through the ritual of setting aside clothes for the day well ahead of hitting the shower and such.

Recently, I wondered why I do this. Morning rituals arise for some reasons, most practical but not always so, and by definition are rarely questioned, just followed.

And I must still do the clothing layout because my mom started it, many moons ago.

Been sitting here a while, thinking on a good witty closing line for this.

But I guess the story speaks for itself...



Bizarre jobs to romantic strife--

MAD, stalkers, rehab to ex-wife...

Not--though some declare me sure--

fictional character...

But I play one in real life!



Okay, we've finally come to terms with the idea that enough morons exist to make spam profitable.

Cialis and watch buyers see and unsolicited e-mail with questionable links and... Hey. We said we've "come to terms" with it. Doesn't mean it doesn't still kill any hope for the Human Race we might've once held.

But this new...sneaky spam? Faked-up to look like you've received an e-mail from, say, LinkedIn (speaking of lost hope for Humanity...), but you click and find yourself on a site shilling Viagra?

So there are actually people who... "Gee, I wasn't looking for Viagra. Never needed the stuff before. But, wow! This e-mail fooled me into this site and... Maybe it's a sign from the Heavens! I'll whip my credit card out and experience this Viagra stuff!"

So regarding that future of the Human Race... Well, we can say we invented the taco, if nothing else...



It's dubbed, "Global Warming"--uncoiling

from cent'ries of Ma Earth despoiling!

But this summer's ratin'

and thumbs-up from Satan--

mere "warming"? Let's try, "Global BROILING"!



So, self-help guru Tony Robbins held an event where some 20+ attendees burnt the living crap outta their feet walking on hot coals.

Well. At least these attendees have something to show for the "self help." Usually, they just remain the same pathetic bastards they were before--with much lighter wallets.

But those blisters, and even scars outta remain for quite some time...



In checking job/gig sites, ad seen

shouts "Journalists' Dream Jobs!" Would mean

to me, if true, factual,

it'd entail actual

trip back in a Time Machine!



Walgreens has some killer ice cream.

Lest you Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers snicker, realize that while this can be classified as a "store brand" purchase, and it is indeed more economical than the name brands... Walgreens has made ice cream since its founding.

Back in the way back, drug stores served up soda creations, all sorts of things beyond drugs and toiletries and what some call "sundries" (we're not entirely sure of that "sundry" definition still)... So there. Nyah-nyah!

Here's one way I can tell--and that you can use to discern what is and isn't fine ice cream--

One of my cats enjoys ice cream. Yeah, yeah, yeah--I know it's not the most natural snack for a feline, but I don't give her much. Teensy bit. And I know that things like chocolate are especially bad for cats, so considering I like stuff like Moose Tracks, I have to be careful of exactly what I dollop out for her, dig around carefully to present only plain (vanilla) for the kitty snack.

This summer's been a big one for ice cream, so I've had numerous brands and flavor mixes sampled so far. And Walgreens' Moose Tracks, one of several Moose Tracks brands I've eaten this year, is the most difficult I've yet stumbled upon, cat snack-wise.

All of the flavors are so thoroughly mixed together, it's tough to take even the smallest nibble without sampling all Moose Tracks has to offer.

Making it a real bitch, cat serving-wise--but a real treat as a snacker.

Oh, and Walgreens? Inquire within as to where you should sent a check...



Mass-feet-burn coal walk? Dopes did go for it!

And paid Tony Robbins much dough for it!

Though dweebs they still are

the blisters and scars

at least leave them SOMETHING to show for it!



We know this might make a lot of die-hard comics fans irate but, but especially considering, you know, current events (and we did exercise restraint in holding off with this thought a bit)... Viewing the old "Batman" TV series... Well, we much prefer our superheroes goofy as all hell...



Though "Batman" TV show was spoofy--

made comics nerds pissed; through the roofy!--

the light of current events

bolsters take; won't relent--

prefer superheroes goofy!



Yesterday, we mused about how we prefer our superheroes goofy, ala the old TV series "Batman," rather than all geeky-serious, ala... Well, the type of superhero movies that have a rather creepy tie-in to current events. (Although taking tights-wearing crusaders seriously is markedly goofy in its own way, regardless of what the fanboys think.)

Speaking of goofy superheroes, the Chicago Cubs held a superhero costume-wearing player promotion early this week and...




Cubs-like ill timing aside, they should've went with a different style of comics--perhaps "Archie" or something?...



A hot little Broadway coquette

was quite "active," backstage, on set...

Since such ease was found by guys

in play to part her thighs

folks called her, "Yes, Yes Nanette"!



Now, if you manage to... Let's call it, have a little romance, with a chickie of a certain Latina persuasion and... Well, you could say you managed to pork-a-Rican, no?...

Happy Saturday con Mucho Queso!...



Ballplayers dressed as superheroes?

Chi Cubs promo--ill timed? Appears so...

For Cubs comics tie-in

caped heroes? Ain't buyin'--

why, something like "Archie" I'd steer fo'!



We think this is finally the last straw.

We at Daily Limerick have continued to support the newspaper industry by subscribing... Yes, to the physical, old-fashioned, outdated PRINTED newspaper.

Why? Well partially because we were once employed by the industry. Once had a career in the industry. In fact, crafted our whole lives and careers, from high school newspapers onward (actually even earlier) around the industry and... Well, partially as our way of supporting the struggling industry because... Hmmm.

Okay, so supporting the industry isn't enough reason for subscribing, at least not on its own. Which brings us to our point today.

We also continued to indulge the printed news because... Okay, we're becoming dinosaurs here, for one. It's also part of routine--easy to go through the newspaper while riding the bus and such as a way of keeping up on things. Yeah, there are electronic devices, environmental issues with printing... But, seriously, Kindle, Schmindle, you can't improve on physical newspaper functionality.

We actually have a host of reasons for this peccadillo, but the one that concerns us today is thoroughness. Can't beat written articles for thoroughness. (Yeah, they're available online but...see above.) Sure, there's video and hot chickie commentators on TV but... Focusing on written news, we can pick and choose which stories to read, and how much of each, with the in-depth option unavailable with, say, broadcast news.

That is, following the newspaper, we find ourselves 10 times more "up on things" than someone who just watches TV news.

But... Well, our daily newspaper of choice is the Chicago Sun-Times, over its competitor, the Chicago Tribune. Why? Again, host of reasons... In fact, many of them now moot, such as the fact that it hosted our favorite columnists once, although almost all of them were the first to be downsized-out during the long, slow flush of the industry down the toilet and... Back to the point.

Read recently about California's "newly passed" anti-Paparazzi law.

Yes, "newly passed." A law that... Frankly, is frightening, First Amendment-wise. A law threatening to turn us into a... Celebritocracy?

Anyway, no word about this law in the Sun-Times as it was debated. Silly of me to think a newspaper would thoroughly cover such a Free Speech issue, especially with columns by local celebrities needing room now in the paper, as another would-be hilarious attempt to remain "hip" "competitive" (it's so hard to find celebrity news and commentary these days!) and... Ahem.

No word about this law, even as it was PASSED. No, the only reason it was fit for mention was because it was invoked in a lawsuit over Justin Bieber.

Then again, perhaps we're just being insensitive to the plight of the oppressed celebrity minority...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Sunday Story Time...

...Can't think straight in this freakin' heat... See ya' next week...



Live by calendar and the clock

but this heat brings me joy to mock

the routine conventions

with timeline's suspension--

July, watching Christmas "Hitchcock"!



The parents of Megan Duskey are suing Chicago's Palmer House Hilton, alleging that Megan's '10 death came due to negligence surrounding a Halloween party with alcohol and the level of security/safety personnel involved.

Yes, this is a tragedy. Megan was only 23. But it's just too darn nutty to leave be, as would occur via normal protocol.

See, Megan died, after copious drinks, attempting to slide down the railing of a huge, winding, spiral staircase in the Hilton.

What's more, she was wearing a costume of the superhero Silver Spectre.

And, while this shouldn't matter, although it does, if only for story color... Well, she was smokin' hot.

So, we've gotta throw the Greedy Bastard label on Megan's parents because... How can they argue that this suit is "for Megan'? Wanting to drag this into the public eye so that the lasting memory of her is... Well, the madcap circumstances surrounding her death?

Then again, in the interests of objectivity... Maybe Megan only did what any other red-blooded, 23-year-old American woman would do at a Palmer House Hilton party... Toss back a ton of liquor, throw on a Silver Spectre costume and slide down the spiral staircase...



The rumor seems, for mirth, designed--

Chuck Sheen? "Idol" judge? I'm inclined

to say, both so hokey,

take as double jokey--

and fill in your own damn punch line!



So... What is it about commercials for kitchen wares and in-your-face pitchmen...who are British?

Okay, perhaps we're showing our Americanism here. Some of them are Aussie or New Zealanders or what-have you but... Still.

What is it about, "But wait!... Act now!... We'll throw in a second set FREE!" and Brits with blades?...


Send your own Letter to the Idiot and/or e-mail Sloop! (And attach sexy pics, if you insist. Sigh.)


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