Daily Limerick
Archives: March 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)!



Missed something Sunday's word on street--

some televised stars' meet-and-greet?

Big Deal?... Just sounds lame!

Guess it's 'bout, from name...

That Grouch dude from "Sesame Street"?



Okay. We think we've finally figured this out--

Rick Santorum is confused and thinks he's running for...Pope...



Folks' sex lives? Santorum can't cope!

(In jail, 'round him, wouldn't drop soap!)

Rick--how 'bout REAL issues?

Or is his deal confused--

thinking that he's running for...Pope?



Okay, the comic "Love Is..." Don't know why we're so irked by that dinosaur, but... Just can't help noticing. It's right there on the comics page and, try as we may, we can't skip over anything there and... Get this.

The dude drawing this, son of the hippie chick who started it, must be getting up there in years himself. We note his recent mentioning of tech angles, computer dating and IMing and such, to all that "Love Is..." and... Okay, this week, "Love..." was "...[W]hen he sends you a 'personal,' not a 'group,' e-mail."

So our new theory is that this cat just got a computer a year or two ago and, whenever he here's about some "new, tech" term or what-have-you, he tosses it into the comic.

What'll he discover next? Twitter? Apps? Or is he about to learn of the prevalence of MySpace?... Enough!

Daily Limerick--your home for the hard-hitting, investigative news on the day's crucial issues...



Though Big Jeff lived life on the thrift...

Girlfriend's birthday? Can't give short-shrift!

Shelled-out for cheap locket,

plus one from his "pocket"--

could say that one was a "gag gift"!



Chief Limericist checking in, here. Guess identity theft is a big issue. According to commercials and spam, we should be scared out of our pants that someone's gonna alter our credit histories and such and... Hmmm. There are apparently lots of products designed to PREVENT identity theft but... Well, it's just started to seem to me that someone stealing my identity can only IMPROVE my situation... Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...



Identity theft fear's been seized

by TV ads--public's on knees!

Yet my budget's so screwed

in thieves' hands, might improve...

Hey! Steal my identity--PLEASE!



Happy Extra Cheezy Only Day of the Year That's Also a Command!...

Er, that would be March Forth/March Fourth...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)


So Chrysler has unveiled the new Dodge Dart.

The Dart was produced between 1960 and 1973, when it was discontinued. But now they're bringing it back. Unbelievably, for most of its run it was considered a "compact car," if you're looking for a finger-pointing target regarding our raging oil addiction.

The new Dart doesn't look much like the Dart I remember. I'd bet they're looking to capitalize on a storied name from their heyday, still seeking to justify their bailout and trying to come-off as all American Apple Pie and such.

I once owned a 1973 Dodge Dart. Actually, since it was my first car, just after first receiving a driver's license, I more properly just DROVE a '73 Dart--my parents actually owned it.

By the time it came into my primary drivership, it was what one would call "a beater." Which is true of every car I ever owned/drove (maybe a half-dozen), as they were all used, most well used... I guess I've technically owned new and near-new cars, since my ex-wife purchased a couple while we were wed, hence making me co-owner but... As far as cars I actually drove, regularly, as a rule, by myself, making them MY car... Beaters.

The Dart, however, symbolizes, in my mind, my driving days. Not that I'm finished driving, but since the suburban/exurban DUI that pushed me toward becoming a city resident, without car... Well, I've continued to renew my driver's license, and driven occasionally (others' cars, rental cars, etc.), but far, far from regularly.

That Dart's actually a Memory Machine. It began as my grandpa's, so I remember him driving it around, often arguing with my grandma (who'd never possessed a driver's license in her life and yet constantly "advised" gramps behind the wheel), his bags of hard candy hanging from the radio knobs and such--butterscotch buttons, Lemonheads... When Pappy died, it became my mom's car, then a car I borrowed from my mom briefly, before she bought a new model and the Dart was mine...to use.

I inherited a bit of the Klutz Gene from my mother. Thus, the Dart came into my hands pre-dented. For her turn in the high school sports carpool one day, picking me and a couple of friends up from football practice, perhaps a neighbor chick from tennis or what have you, we waited. And waited.

When mom pulled into the rear school parking lot late, we could see the car was dented. The side scratched. In fact, we discovered then and there that the passenger side rear doors were jammed from a whack it took, so we all had to pile in from the driver's side.

Ma had hit a patch of slick roadwork en route, off-roadin' into a barbed wire fence.

The doors were fixed, enough to be once again openable anyway, but I supplemented the dings and dents through many incidents. Drove across a field for a high school party--and was called out thanks to dried grass and such stuck in the bent license plate holder and such. Slid between a just-off-road street sign and stop sign that locals dubbed "impossible" once, thanks to an ill-conceived, impromptu drag race with a friend's Chevette.

I could write a book about the Dart's adventures. Making out with chicks, double dates, mall parking lots, booze, bongs... I finally killed the dart driving home late one night, after a Long John Silver's shift, in freezing rain, thanks to what I called, what otherwise would've been, hitting the ditch.

I wasn't full-on speeding and wasn't intoxicated. Inexperienced, I guess, driving too fast for conditions, the Dart slid where the ditch would be, only it was filled with enough snow to become more of a hill than a ditch and... Somehow, the Dart ended up atop, kinda balancing there. A neighbor lady told my mom it looked a bit like a spaceship.

I walked home from the mishap site, ice hanging from my shaggy teenage "cool hair," reported the ditch hit and... In the morning my dad drove out to assess, coming back to report, "Ditch, my ass. That car's up on a hill!"

I don't recall how the Dart was retrieved from the hill. But driving it away seemed like steering via a set of bowling balls. Fixing the alignment after that was silly for a beater, so that was it.

Many moons later, a few years ago, my nephew went through a cars phase. Soon knew all the makes and models driven by relatives, even long-dead ones. He had toy cars, car pics, car books... He worshiped a select few.

Not sports cars or racecars but... Well, one of them was that '73 Dart.

My nephew somehow obtained one of the few photos of that car. In the pic, taken of the car's side, the barbed wire ding was fully visible and a teenaged me, scraggly haired, chewing tobacco in cheek yet wearing a nice collared shirt, leaned against it, along with my girlfriend of the time.

In the pic, it appears I'm ogling my girl's boobs. Which may have been the case but... Honestly, I'm not a boob man. Like 'em and all, of course, but... I'm also not a total letch, so posing for a photo, coupled with my non-boob man status... Well, I don't think I was eyeing the rack, honestly, although that's usually the first comment out of anybody's mouth when seeing the photo.

I miss that '73 Dart. Or at least I miss the time period, the adventures...all that.

But the reintroduced Dodge Dart doesn't thrill me. Not only does it look quite unlike the old Darts, but... Okay, maybe they'd tempt me if it came with a built-in barbed-wire ding...



'Fore last week's whackjob, pill-hole gush

I'd almost forgot about Rush--

just why venom's spewin'!

Creep knows what he's doin'!

Best plan's to ignore him; just hush!



In order to have it in writing somewhere, previously I mused about how, upon my death, I didn't want my passing to in any way fuel the scam-ass funeral industry.

Oh, Chief Limericist cheerily checking in, here.

I think I said I just wanted a party at someone's place, if that, to celebrate my life and that my body...should be thrown to wolves or something?

Anyway, I've revised that.

Haven't changed the attitude toward the 14th Century-esque Big Funeral Industry, but would rather have my body donated to science, med schools or whatever.

Been reading about a shortage of cadavers for such students.

Although... I think I'd like to only be dissected and such by hot chicks.

Er... Scratch that. Just wanna donate my corpse to science.

Hope you're enjoying breakfast!...



Read: 'Nother career sent down drain--

white guy, N-Word use, same refrain...

"But black folks can use it!"

What? Lack words for muse fit?

Strange--my strong urge is to REFRAIN!



We've been listening to the radio station-like music channel offerings through our cable TV service lately. Both as a way of keeping touch with the outside world, cooped-up most of the day with few others around (ah, the life of the marginally employed) and... Well.

Also as a way of becoming in-the-know with new music. Hits and such. See, while we regularly follow the general mainstream news, which includes knowing about the likes of Katy Perry and Kanye West and such, we often couldn't hum you any bars of music from those cats and kittens.

A way of being hip to the jive, if you will. Of course, we can't stand the "hits" all the time, but... We've given the new tunes some time.

One observation from all this is that so-called "pop" music has changed very little since... Hell, even the '80s. Instrumentation is a little different. More "urban," overall. Otherwise, still lots of "whoah oh oh" in the lyrics and... Same ol', same ol'.

If we may make a suggestion, however... We really could use more lyrical exploration on the phenom of being "in the club" and "on the floor."


We need more scintillating, thought-provoking intellectual discourse on that fascinating (and, apparently, major) aspect of what it means to be a human being...



Damn "Love Is..."--we've been on its case.

Guy feebly tries to keep tech's pace!

Rides hippie mom's coattails--

just now, riffs on e-mail?...

What's next? He'll discover...MySpace?



Found myself tuning in earlier than normal to check out "Saturday Night Live" this past Saturday.

Chief Limericist checking-in, here.

See, when I'm home on Saturday nights, I usually catch the "Svengoolie" show, with an old-style horror flick host, which runs until 11, after which I sorta half-watch SNL, at least tuning in for "Weekend Update," which is the one consistently funny feature on the show.

But this time around, I watched all of SNL. Granted, "Svengoolie" was a rerun I'd seen recently-ish, but... Still, I'd re-watch it in its entirety anyway, normally, but... Lindsay Lohan.

Okay. Some time back, I wrote an entry for S&Y, when Lindsay was the up-and-coming It Girl, about how... Well, I didn't see what the big deal was. Hot and all, but among all the other hot Hollywood starlets?... Eh.

So what happened?

Well, I didn't think I was this kind of guy but... In case you haven't noticed, Lindsay's been in a bit of a trouble lately.

Now, this disturbs me a bit. I'm not endorsing the idea of "troubled" as a turn-on. But I'm just copping to it.

Of course, this means very little in the Grand Scheme of Things. I'll probably never meet Lindsay. And even if I did... Well. KNOWING I feel this way, I can combat it and... Well, I'm certainly not going to actively purse troubled women. Never have.

A more important point to ponder might be, "Why do troubled women pursue ME?"...but that'd be opening an industrial-sized Can of Worms...



So Lindsay Lohan... This ain't right--

thought her hot, but not out-of-sight.

Yet since she's turned..."troubled,"

burst some psyche bubble--

now turns me on like neon light!



We mentioned earlier this week that we'd been playing around with our cable TV "radio" stations that come with our service.

In addition to the pop hits mentioned previously, we've also been checking out some country. Specifically, "classic" country.

And... We love the stuff but when country goes for the broken-hearted sad stuff... Let's just say we're amazed that there AREN'T mass redneck suicides going on left and right...




Guy tells iPhone, "Call me 'Rock God',"

in ad but, though tech wonder's mod...

So, Apple, important

consumers you're courtin'--

the creepy, er, "close"-to-phone clod?



As members of the writing/editing/journalism profession, a rough career path historically turned much rougher in the Internet Age and all... Well, thought we'd pause for a much needed Friday laugh, via a "classes" ad from the Chicago Reader--

"PROOFREADING: A GREAT second job..." He hee.

Bwaaa haw haw haaaaawww!


There's just so much paid work to go around, employers can't find enough folks to do it all, you say?

Haaaaawwwww hawwwwwwwwwww HAWWWWWWW...



A hottie with business sense shrewd

thought body art'd chase image--prude.

But, "Tatt...where?" thought Helen...

Since business was melons--

could say she got herself tit-tooed.



So yet again, during this Great Recession... Er, "Post Great Recession," according to the "experts" who saw none of it coming... Anyway.

Apply for a decent job gig. Actually more than apply--did a whole song and dance, filled out an extra Web form, did the cover letter shuffle, etc.

Chief Limericist checking in, here.

Was excited. Couldn't wait to hear back.

Then I hear back, via a long e-mail, about more song and dance required, late at night. Might've otherwise saved the long e-mail reading until morning, but was so excited... And tucked into the bottom of the e-mail was a line about how a fee was required to proceed from here.


No, downright ass-bastards.

I suppose that sometimes it's legit and all, plus worth your while, to pay such fees. I see it for job fairs and...all sorts of stuff. There are probably some circumstances to merit it. Then again... Big corporations? Promising ventures? You don't need a finely tuned nose to detect a bit of a stench.

They say that sometimes, "You have to spend money to make money."

To which, I remind them--

You have to MAKE money to spend money...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...



Played Top 40--stay hip was mission!

What lyric'ly find new bards dishin'?

'Bout "in da club," "on the floor"--

Man's always needing more

deep thoughts on human condition!



Damned, mother-scratchin' Daylight freakin' Savings Time... Last I checked, we WEREN'T an economy of 90 percent farmers... There's not a dad-burned World War on... Why the hell did we ever start this cockamamie, nerve-wracking ritual to begin with?... Benedict Arnold had something to do with this, right?...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)


Do you remember, Slapper Yapper Grasshoppers, how SST was running with a "vacation" theme months back? Last fall?

There was some vague tie-in. Had a few decent, vacation-related topics, followed by a couple a bit less so (the ol' Idea Machine has its ups and downs)... Well, today's topic was leftover from that tear. Not that it's a bad topic, but some that seemed even better came to mind and... You can be the judge of it, I suppose.

My father is now a retired airline pilot and the Sacramento trip idea arose as a way of father-son bonding via a cheap mini-vacation--my father, of course, able to work my coming along on the flight for free, or close to it. I think it arose from my mom's suggestion, ala "Why don't you take your son on a trip so you two can spend time together?" Not that pop was anti-father-son-time or anything, but... Things often work that way.

I was in...grade school, I think? It was a short trip. A day, maybe two. Perhaps the most memorable, um, "bonding" moment? When I took a shower in the hotel room bath, I tucked the shower curtain outside of the tub, rather than the vastly preferable inside tuck, leading to a watery floor.

That irked my dad a bit and got me scolded. Doesn't fully compute for me now. Pretty sure I'd progressed from baths to showers by that point... Did I just kinda roll with the curtain tuck as I found it, with my parents regularly leaving the home curtain tucked inward but the hotel one left outwardly tucked?

What else?... (If I may invoke the segue catchphrase rage of open mic comics)... Orange Julius. That was the first time I'd encountered that frozen orange treat.

And the squirrels! That was the first time I'd encountered squirrels comfortable enough with people that you could feed them peanuts.

Alright. Doesn't sound like the most crazy-assed of vacations. But it was last-minute, I was a kid and I enjoyed it. Especially feeling like I was among the jet-set, flyin' off to Sacramento for a mere day or two, last-minute.

When I lived in California, L.A., for a year or so, around 2000, I recall a discussion with two of my cousins and...some others, I think. Anyway, the consensus was that Sacramento was a hellhole. Inland, hot and generally the troubled sibling of glamorous, exciting Los Angeles and San Francisco.

What did I know? I think I was still under the impression that there was something exciting about state capitals, too.

Sad as it may seem, though, a frosty treat, bathroom mishap and friendly squirrels still spells a good time, in my e-reader...



Of money, the ruling phrase trend fits

(though catch-22 does upend it)--

must spend to make money!

True, yet ain't it funny--

you've gotta MAKE money to SPEND it!



This past weekend, we read of yet another brawl at a concert.

Rowdy music fans going a little too far and disturbing the enjoyment of all the others.

This one occurred at a performance of...the Chicago Symphony Orchestra?

Damn symphony-goers! What do ya' bet that a bunch of folks were also smokin' up in the crowd, passing around the ol'... Meerschaum?...



Cable country tune channel tried

and list'ning close...damn nearly cried!

So gut-wrenching lyrically--

it's wonder we don't see

a mass redneck suicide!



As of today (1:14 a.m., Eastern U.S. time), there is exactly one week left of winter--then, spring officially begins!

If you're thinking, "Slow news day," you'd be wrong! Okay, you're more likely thinking, "Lazy writer day"...but you'd still be wrong.

Still all out of sorts over this stupid-assed Daylight Savings Boondoggle.

Why?... Oh, why, why, WHY?...



That damned Daylight Savings Time--aaarrr! Toll

leaves body/mind clock with a scarred hole!

Leave clocks one spot--no fall/spring--

know "reasons" for damned thing--

but still blame Benedict Arnold!



Okay, so Wednesdays, we shoot for food-related content.

And they say, "You are what you eat."

And... Okay, we'll admit ahead of time that this is too easy, 12-year-old-like and... All that, but... So--

If you are what you eat, what does that say about...Courtney Cox?...



She asked for this--if it seems catty--

Adele, dating Big Finance Daddy,

has nerve to decry

guys noting her...size--

see, she's... Well, think tech term is..."fatty."



Happy Extra Cheezy Ides of March!...

(And, as common wisdom cautions, beware of those Ides, too...not sure why, nor what the hell they are exactly but)...



The saying's now "inside the box"--

"You are what you eat"--chubs to jocks!

Gist's clear as a bell

so what does it tell

us 'bout, oh, let's see... Courtney Cox?




"Study: Red Meat May Kill You Faster"

Rings a bell, don't it? Hasn't this point been made...and made...and made some more?

Guess the Studyers of Things are taking a cue from Hollywood--and now doing "remakes" of old studies...



An Irish slut whose name was Stover

on St. Pat's day, sought four-leaf clover.

But cabbage and corn-y

combined with booze-horny

brought just as rare four-queef bend-over!



This "classic" country music station on my cable service shows pics of artists while their songs play.

Chief Limericist checking in, here.

Which has caused me to realize that... Well, I'd do Reba McEntire.

Ahem. Not proud of it, just coppin' to it.

Perhaps, anyway.

But she'd certainly have to get naked for me to actually watch that Godawful sitcom of hers...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday--St. Patrick's Day, to boot!...



So... Deja vu? "New" study stakes

claim "red meat kills"... Gimme a break!

Use science for nagging?

Ideas now lagging--

like Hollywood, study's "remake"?



Noted Katy Pery ex Russell Brand, who reportedly has a side gig as a comedian, was busted for throwing a member of the Paparazzi's iPhone through a window and... Well.

You're familiar with the Rehab Card, of course.

And the Gay Card--come out of the closet after getting busted for something as a sympathy ploy.

But Brand invoked a new one by calling it a tribute and thus introducing... The Steve Jobs Card!...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Yet Another Fish Tale

Back in high school, freshman year, I believe, I recall our English class learning about... Oh, what the hell do you call it? Supposition based on known facts? No, that's not it... I think it's a bit like a "proof," although that's geometry, and I might have that term wrong.

It's that process whereby... Well, I'll just use the real-life example.

The teacher says, and writes on the blackboard, "Fish live in the water."

Below that, he writes, "In order to breathe in the water, fish have gills."

From there, the class was invited to suppose. Our teacher meant for the class to say things like, "Joe is a fish. Therefore Joe has gills." To which the teacher would also posit, "This creature has gills. Therefore, this creature is a fish"--which he would explain as a bad supposition, as other creatures not properly fish have gills. I think.

You get the idea, right? An exercise in logic or whatever-the hell?

Anyway, when our teacher solicited statements to follow, "fish have gills," the classroom was silent.

So I seized the opportunity. "Therefore, a good name for a fish would be Mickey Gilley."

The teacher was not amused. Or perhaps he WAS amused, but did his best to hide it, as our teacher...we'll call him "Mr. I," was often amused at my cracks. I don't recall his reaction this time.

I was a good student while also being a bit of a cut-up.

Sure, it was a dumb joke. We were high schoolers. Plus, any humor is upped a notch or two when it hits a stodgy environment, such as a classroom.

One classmate, whom I'd call a "friend," even though we'd never hung-out beyond class--long before social networking made that a full-on trend--would say something about "Mickey Gilley" most every time he saw me, through the rest of high school. And I imagine he'd say "Mickey Gilley" if I happened upon him today.

Stupid humor. It's what memories are made of...



In Chi-Town, a concert turned crazed--

fight broke out in crowd while tunes played!

This happened to be

at...the symphony?

Those punk One-Percenters these days!



On a recent night at a rock club, I noticed, among the writings on the men's bathroom wall, this message among the other witticisms, semi-witticisms and near-witticisms--

"Is this The Facebook?"

Chief Limericist checking in, here.

Clever, no?

In fact, perhaps beyond clever, depending on how deep the scrawler was thinking, because, although it is all techy, ever-renewing and allows pics and links to whatever one's doing/reading/viewing/listening to (which, call me old fashioned and/or alarmist, I still find more "classic sci-fi creepy" than a plus)... Facebook, and other social networking sites, ARE bathroom walls.

Of course, it's much easier to NOT waste time on a bathroom wall when you physically have to visit it, as opposed to having it at your fingertips constantly, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. (Or supposed to be doing.)

Also, having to actually pull out a marker and make characters, drawings, etc., allows one more time to think through expression--or decide in all wisdom against a particular statement.

Which is perhaps why I spent a lot more time reading that clever, physical bathroom wall than I do with a typical Facebook check-in...



We'll rediscover birds and bees--

and spring brings reunion for me

with art--Nature' Wonder--

Jack Frost, up from under...

Neck napes! Bellies! Ankles! Toes! Knees!...



Happy Extra Cheezy (and Breezy...and Sleazy...and, what the hell, Easy...) First Day of Spring 2012!...



Paparazzo's iPhone was marred--

Russ Brand used to smash window shards!

Played Card--not Gay, Rehab, see,

claimed hack hurt legacy--

playing the new... Steve Jobs Card?



What's the difference between a collection agency and Satan?

You tell us!...



Chuckling at wit in the men's stall

thought... "Facebook's just e-bathroom wall!"

'Cept stall wit's more 'telligent--

least thought, time must be spent

with non-e-marker to scrawl!



Here's a rule to live by...or at least a rule to help interpret the world by--

Any time you notice an ad campaign by a business/company/entity/what-have-you trumpeting how it's oh so helpful to the community and blah blah blah... Ask yourself, "Why is this business/company/entity/what-have-you spending all this money and effort to run this campaign?"

You don't see the likes of, say, the Red Cross doing such things because everybody KNOWS about their good efforts.

So your answer?

That business/company/entity/what-have-you running the campaign is evil to the bone and seeking to present themselves otherwise!...



Here's riddle--what diff'rence there be

'tween a collection agency

and Darkness Lord, Satan?...

For punch line, ya' waitin'?

Well, sorry, but, er... You tell me!



Since the Illinois GOP Presidential Primary wrapped up this week, we here will be seeing a break from those TV ads...for a bit.

But it has got us to thinkin'... Why are the Romney folks bothering with this campaign touching on Federal budgets, business experience, healthcare, etc.?

They could easily save the trouble and money of the writers and researchers and focus groupers with a much more simple ad, like... Well, here's our script for an anti-Santorum ad (since pro-candidate ads are soooo last century). Feel free to use it--

"So... He hee... Seriously? Rick Santorum?... Really? That wingnut?... He heee hawww... Really?... This isn't some kind of joke?... C'mon"...

(Etc., Etc.--ad lib from there)...



Brat girl next-door neighbor of Nate

looked more brat girl WOMAN of late

and yet wasn't legal.

He'd eye her like eagle

out window and mastur-jail-bate!



We recently read of a phenomenon whereby women actually climax while exercising--it's known as having a "coregasm."


As most guys know, getting a woman to, er, top that special hill can be... Well, a real song and dance.

Often literally.

Guess we've found a new use for that dust-gatherer otherwise known as a "stationary bike"...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...



Screen on cable-based "radio"

shows pics of star whose music flows.

Glimpsed Reba, discovered...

I'd crawl 'neath her covers!

('Less she'd make me watch awful show!)




"Docs Abusing Social Web Sites, Survey Says"

So... Why should doctors be any different than everybody else?...




(Touching in some manner, anyway)

TODAY'S EDITION: Sunday Story Time...

...Is on Spring Break.

Leave us alone while we observe the wet T-shirt contest--scribe at ya' next week...



False promise, "adult ed" ad lobs--

"Proofreading! A great...SECOND job"?

Take it from trained journalist--

two decades hard at this--

ain't no work out there, poor slobs!




The foundation of journalism, right? What separates it from commentary and punditry and, in a news sense, arts reviews, sports coverage and...all that.

Of course, it's only an ideal--actually impossible, in a pure sense. As but one of a jillion examples, a news outlet only has the resources to cover so many stories, so any decision on what to cover, and what not to cover, becomes at least semi-subjective, even if it considers surveys of what subjects readers/viewers most want to know.

Conservatives bash the likes of CNN as "left leaning," liberals bash Fox News as "right leaning," etc., etc. It's open to interpretation.

Nonetheless, good news sources shoot for hitting that ideal "objectivity" as closely as they can. They thus decide they can't, for instance, call a string of spree killings "terrible," or an economic trend as "worrisome"--they feel they must quote a witness and/or "expert" to do such things, rather than the news source itself.

One major exception we've noted?


Here in Chicago/the Midwest, following a ridiculously mild winter, temperatures have eerily hit the 80s, mid-March.

This is somehow "objectively" deemed "wonderful," "delightful," "a gift," etc.

Some of us here at Daily Limerick aren't crazy about any temps in the 80s. Some of us love the "between" seasons of spring and fall. A nice break from the freezing cold and the stuffy heat--a little time in the 60s and 70s, often warm enough for no-jacket/light-jacket outdoor activity, but just brisk enough at night to snuggle beneath a blanket without need yet for fans or AC.

In fact, our Chief Limericist now checks in to say he'd like a little more SNOW this year, a few more nights sparking up the ol' fireplace. Maybe that's a serious minority opinion, but we've heard from countless real folks--outside DL, that is--who'd like some damn SPRING before 80-degree-plus summery stuff begins.

So while you won't hear us continually bleating about "Left Wing" or "Right Wing" media, we're tired of this, er... "Warm Wing" media? Assuming we're all delighted with this supernatural March warmth.

And, really, how can ANYBODY fully enjoy it when, if you listen close enough, you can hear the screams of the polar bears dying en mass?...



News says--though it's trick from a guy--

that chicks get off through...exercise?

I'll buy bedroom Nordic Track

as base brain I do wrack

for jock positions to try!



Our fellow Americans... We've always wanted to say that!

Ahem... Go to the IRS Web site and try searching for forms.

Type terms like, "Schedule E" and "Supplemental Income and Loss" and... Marvel at the wonder.

Now, it's one thing to know that our tax dollars are going to pay incompetent government workers. The private sector's full of 'em, too, and we're sure the knuckleheads just stick out more than the ultra-competent ones and... Well, we'll give some benefit of the doubt here.

But knowing some government workers and/or contractors were paid big bucks to design this site... Incompetence doesn't explain it.

Rather pissed that tax dollars are going toward actively making it the most nightmarishly designed site we've ever encountered.

There's really no other possible explanation...



Perhaps as a sign that DL is moving up on the Importance List, we received this e-mail from a personal injury attorney, Sara Witt...who strangely lists a second e-mail address from bestblackdatingsites.org. Hmmm.

No matter. Here's the letter--

> SUBJECT: Would you accept a guest post?


> Hello...

Uh, no...



New study on docs says they might

abuse social networking sites!

Respected, surely,

but asking they be

unlike all the rest isn't right!



We're big fans of fruit flavored candy.

Oh, we like chocolate, too, but we like the fruity supplement to our snack stash. Skittles, nerds, Tropical Lemonheads... Mmmm.

They generally come with various individual flavors. Lemon, grape, orange, etc. And they really...sorta taste like those flavors.

Rather than munching by the handful, we're also fans of sampling the flavors individually, especially when a bag is new--sample one of each to "initiate" the bag/box.

Here's a fun game to play with such candies--close your eyes, or at least don't look, and eat half of one such candy...then guess which "flavor" it is.

You'll be surprised.

Pleasantly and...not so much...



Insurers and bankers sing tune-"Hey we

do SOOOO much to help the community!"

Million-plus refrains!

Why need such campaigns?--

To hide they screw all with impunity!



So "human resources" folks have been forcing wannabe employees to furnish passwords into Facebook accounts, seeking any reason whatsoever NOT to hire folks.

Facebook has immediately spoken firmly against this process. C'mon! Obtaining private information--and NOT for the benefit of possible Facebook advertisers?...



Since bashing Santorum, Mitt's after

with jillions spent--ad campaign staffers...

Here's tip--TV frame?

Just show wingnut's name--

screw research, quotes--for sound, just laughter!



Yesterday, we mused a bit on this Facebook/human resources password scandal and... Ahem.


"Human Resources."

Talk about absolute power corrupting... Okay, it's one thing to Google around on possible future employees for, say, child molestations, naked public beer-bong antics and the like.

But... Ever get the feeling they're pretty much trying to keep anybody who even slightly utilizes their First Amendment rights from becoming employed? Or that they fill up their days with tasks that aren't completely necessary?

Couldn't big companies save money, and make better use of, er, "human resources," by seriously downsizing these departments?

And while we're at it, what was wrong with "personnel"? At least it has the word "person" in it.

Are we the only ones who feel that "HUMAN resources" sounds a bit like a term coming from evil aliens in an old "Twilight Zone" episode?...



A clever young flasher named Nash

hit health club with hand on robe's sash

and 'mid jumping jack

whole room saw him whack--

he pulled-off a "jumpin' jack flash"!



Printed on a Kit Kat candy bar--

"TO OPEN: Lift Flap and Tear at End"

Apparently, people these days... Hmmm.

This would seem to be a simple process but, apparently, there's NOT an app for that...

Oh... To enjoy Daily Limerick, read words in the day's entry from top to bottom, left to right...

Happy Extra Cheezy Saturday!...


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