In honor of the prostate, the only heart-shaped organ you’ll find inside your average human (and not even half of them), Feral Living is proud to announce the Second Annual Feral Living Valentine’s Day Limerick Contest. Leave your entries in the comments to this post. Deadline: 14 February, 2003.
Further rules in the comments, mixed in with the entries. Be sure and read the directions!
For further information:
-last year’s announcement and entries
-last year’s winners.
Attractive candy hearts courtesy ACME Heart Maker.
There once was a guy named Miguel,
Whose kid’s antics populated Raising Hell,
Telling us all of the strife,
They brought into his life,
Who knew they were robots as well?
Was it Mig who got me again thinking
the world is expanding, not shrinking
The big bang occurred
I flocked with the herd
and now we’re all blogging and linking.
an ugly man who couldn’t score,
went camping one day with a whore,
he begged and he pleaded,
she sucked till he bleeded,
and then stuck around for ‘smore(s).
Amytart mailed me her entry because her employer bans Feral Living comments from their system:
There once was a guy named Miguel
Who everyone thought was real swell
He secretly stank
with an awful rank
And only his wife could tell.
There once was a guy with a bug
Who only just wanted some hugs
But his wife made him nervous
When asking for service
And so he resorted to drugs.
Sorry ’bout that… I’ll try for something better after more coffee…
Wow, my entry last year really *sucked*
Give me an L, cried the doctor
Give me an A, said the proctor
Give me a T
Give me an E
Give me an X and bend over.
A man riding in a blue Dobl
A garbage truck in Barcelona
is a garbage truck in fair Verona.
cried the man who was stuck
behind a garbage truck
during Monday’s commute to Pamplona.
A one:
Traipsing about on a lark,
I met a young man in a park.
Seemed to be a nice kind of fellow;
Perfect gentleman while the sun shone yellow
But felt me up like a pro after dark.
And a-two:
Hickory dickory dee,
Valentine’s Day, ’tis not for me!
Chocolate induces sighs,
But enlarges my thighs,
And I don’t fancy legs like trees.
I’m on a roll, man! I think I struck oil or something… :)
A French homeless wino from Chateauneuf
had a dislike for wines, so he coughed:
“O give me a home
where the buffalo roam
and the choice between beers is less though”.
A Bgu on a missoin to Mars
through the porthole once looked at the stars
“There is Kylie Minoueg!
Featured in the last Vogue!
Whta a beuatiful choice of peignoirs!”
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Apologies are in order. I’m very, very sorry, hang on a second. I forgot to say that this year, extra points go to entries that include the name of a philosopher or work of philosophy, and/or references to the prostate.
Like,
Wittgenstein went out on a date
And eventually it got very late
He tried various wines
and he tried his new lines
but ultimately it took Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus to render her prostrate.
Ooh, gettin’ there, gettin’ there…
‘t was the Neskafkafe he was drinking
that set poor Miguel’s mind to shrinking
“Die Verwandlung”, he said,
“gives me pain in the head,
and that bugs me far mor than you’re thinking.”
“Life’s a bitch”, said our friend Schopenhauer
“It is painful, it’s hard and it’s dour!
I’m not pessimistic
but just a statistic”
and he slipped stepping out of the shower.
There once was girl from Philly
who liked to wear undies that are frilly
She woke up with an itch
thinking her undies sprung a stitch
But discovered it was the hard-on of Billy
During the US Gulf War
King Fahd fell in love with a whore
He gave her a poke
And she gave him a stroke
Now he reigns his sad Kingdom no more.
There once was a fellow name Mig
Who dressed only in leaf of fig
Til one day his boner
Knocked something over
And now he wears pants that are big.
Once, did a young rocker groupie
Get a stage pass for dressing room whoopie.
It’s a puzzlement though,
To this day we don’t know,
Was the groupie the shtuper, or shtupee?
There was a man named Sartre,
Who thought philosophy was a farte,
Not a homogenous milieu,
where thoughts are born and die in lieu,
JP’s attidude grew dark, his loins had no spark,
So he went to the pub and got pissed,
Deciding philosophy didn’t exist.
A tart who knew Thomas Aquinas,
A bit of a grey, faded Venus,
Said that short before slumber
He pondered what number
Of angels could dance on his penis.
There once was a man named Kant,
Who bought an online penis transplant,
The point to the song,
Something went wrong,
and his prostrate ballooned up like an eggplant.
One time a man coveted Kuwait,
Said “It’s really my 17th state,”
Try sanctions–we should?
We’ve had it, but good,
We’ll yank him like a swollen prostate.
Doctor time came for Heidegger,
So hung he was called “three-legger.”
The doc probed for hours,
Then offered him flowers,
Said “you sure are a cheeky old begger.”
My dream all my life was to win an award,
A Bloggie
Do oblique references count?
A man of some thirty-five years,
Had a checkup that left him in tears.
The snap of the glove,
Has nothing on love,
But avoiding it’s worse for the rear.
I saw this chick from afar
she was slinking out of a BAR
I ran up so quick
Chafeing my dick
It ended up all over her car
#1
I once knew a woman named Faye
Who was quite an incredible lay
What she did with her tits
Would give a man fits
But keep him a-smiling all day.
#2
There once was a man named Saddam
Who showed very little aplomb
He acted so crass
By showing his ass
We dropped him a nuclear bomb.
#3
I saw something on the cave walls
Running wet, like Niagra Falls.
Well, God bless my mama
I think it’s Osama
Or all that remains of his balls.
#4
I once knew a girl named Leanne
Who said, “I’ll bet you I CAN.”
Throwing legs in the air
She parted her hair
And pissed into my ceiling fan.
There was an old man named Loughlin
Whos sweetheart he wanted to be boffin
So he took her to Niagra
And swallowed eight Viagra
Now they can’t close the coffin.
In the match between Plato and Hobbes
– two philosophers in between jobs –
the choice of the public
is the modern republic.
You’d imagine that’d calm down the mobs.
I went to my mom as she lay,
And asked how she’s feeling today.
She said with a sigh,
I am sick, I must die.
Timor mortis conturbat me.
A translator from down in Brazil
Had a method for giving men thrills
That was quite polyglossic
And sweet on the sausage
and worth several fifty-buck bills
(Hairy Eyeball circa 2001)
The Cartesian method of doubt
should have made ole’ Descartes very proud
were it not for the fact
– ‘t was his method’s effect –
he forgot what he doubted about.
As we wait with our hearts all a-flutter
And warplanes are gathering in Qatar
Let’s paint on one bomb
“With love to Saddam”
But make sure it’s a daisy-cutter.
A man with a super-hard dick,
sought help curing his nervous tick,
Freud said “don’t worry brother,
just think of your mother”
and it wilted like a soggy stick.
Assuming your prostate is healthy
without further thinking is risky.
A good rectal exam
is no problemo, man!
Just as long as you’re not getting frisky
You may think its just a hassle,
but a finger up your ass’ll,
guarantee that you’re healthy,
and providing that you’re wealthy,
you’ll remember: TANSTAAFL
Philosophers should be aware
that the course of true love runs unfair.
Said Ren
There once was a lad from Salinas,
Who rarely found fun for his penis
So he introduced his young friend
To the palm of his hand
And mounded the monkey on venus.
Have you ever seen your mother do her water?
It makes such a pretty little stream
It takes her an hour and a quarter
And you can never see her belly with the steam.
On Being a Top Google Result for “Hairy”
The man who typed “hairy and nude”
into Google might feel he’s been screwed
When he gets to my URL,
finds no anal, no oral,
And in comments type “Yo, blow me, dude”
A disease of the kidneys or liver
Would not make Nietzsche’s “ubermensch” quiver
But to have to succumb
To a glove up the bum
Is enough to cause grown men to shiver