❤NIGHT PARTNER’S❤
Gurgle! Gurgle! Sputter! and Pop!
Those strange night noises
that just won’t stop.
Bad dreams of dragons and
monsters continue,
What I really need now is a
cork to put in you.
😫😫😫
One of these days when we
both least expect it,
a terrible thing will occur.
Instead of gurgle, sputter and
pop, you’ll be gone, nothing left,
but a large brown wet spot.
A few days ago, I posted a mish-mosh of items which included two limericks from young children. I love the fact that there are kids growing up into a new generation of limerick writers. I would hate to think limericks would fall by the wayside here in the 21st century when they’ve added so much amusement and laughter for hundreds of years. I have a collection of children’s limericks that I’ll share with you periodically because they are cute, adorable and much less bawdy than their adult counterparts. These are for those of you who are too delicate to read the real deal. I hope you enjoy them.
👩🏻👳🏻♂️👲🏻
Consider the poor hippopotamus
His life is unduly monotonous.
He lives half sleep
At the edge of the deep,
And his face is as big as his bottom is.
👩🏻👩🏻🦰👩🏻🦳
A sea serpent saw a big tanker,
Bit hole in its side and then sank her.
He swallowed the crew
In a minute or two,
And then picked his teeth with the anchor.
👱🏻♂️👲🏻👨🏻🦳
There was a young bather from Bewes,
Who reclined on the bank of the Ouse,
His radio blared,
And passers-by stared,
For all he had on was the news!
👼🏻👱🏻♂️👳🏻♂️
“What,” said our teacher, Ms. Pink,
“Is this moth doing here in my ink?”
Said a cheeky young lass,
At the front of the class,
“The Butterfly Stroke, I should think!”
NOT TOO BAD FOR YOUNGSTERS
A few months ago, I posted a page of interesting quotes by women. I promised at that time I’d find others and post them, today is the day. I really don’t feel the need to get into a rant about how difficult it is to find quotes by women even though they’re making quotable statements every day. It just seems the authors of books of quotations have a somewhat limited supply of female contributors. For today I think a few thoughts on feminism might make for an interesting read. Here we go . . .
NUFF SAID
For those of you limerick lovers, I thought I’d give you a small selection from a category called “Oral Irregularities”. No further explanation is necessary, just enjoy them.
In his youth our old friend Boccaccio
Was having a girl in a patio.
When it came to the twat
She wasn’t so hot,
But, boy, was she good at fellatio!
😝😝😝
A fellatrix’s healthful condition
Proved the value of spunk as nutrition.
Her remarkable diet
(I suggest that you try it)
Was only her clients’ emission
😜😜😜
There was an old man of Decatur,
Took out his red-hot pertater.
He tried at her dent
But when his thing bent,
He got down on his knees and he et’r.
😱😱😱
The priests at the Temple of Isis
Used to offer up amber and spices
Then back of the shrine
They would play 69
And other unmentionable vices.
🤪🤪🤪
There lived in French Louisiana
A quaint and deceived duenna
Who naïvely thought
That a penis was wrought
To be et like a thick ripe banana.
If you’re a regular reader of this blog, then you know I enjoy bawdy limericks as well as really dirty and funny jokes. With the last dregs of winter upon us I thought we could all use a few really good dirty jokes to start our day. As I was surfing the net, I discovered these three quite by accident and I absolutely loved them. I’m sure they will get a chuckle out of just about everyone. Here they are . . .
NUNS
A bus full of Nuns falls of a cliff and they all die. They arrive at the gates of heaven and meet St. Peter. St. Peter says to them “Sisters, welcome to Heaven. In a moment I will let you all though the pearly gates, but before I do that, I must ask each of you a single question. Please form a single-file line.” And they do so. St. Peter turns to the first Nun in the line and asks her “Sister, have you ever touched a penis?” The Sister Responds “Well… there was this one time that I kinda-sorta touched one with the tip of my pinky finger” St. Peter says, “Alright Sister, now dip the tip of your pinky finger in the Holy Water, and you may be admitted.” and she did so. St. Peter now turns to the second nun and says “Sister, have you ever touched a penis?” “Well, there was this one time that I held one for just a moment”. Alright Sister, now just wash your hands in the Holy Water, and you will be admitted” and she does so. Now at this time, there is a noise, a jostling in the line. It seems that one nun is trying to cut in front of another! St. Peter sees this and asks the Nun “Sister Susan, what is this? There’s no rush!” Sister Susan responds, “Well if I’m going to have to gargle this stuff, I’d rather do it before Sister Mary sticks her ass in it!”
LITTLE BILLY
Little Billy came home from school to see the families pet rooster dead in the front yard. Rigor mortis had set in, and it was flat on its back with its legs in the air. When his dad came home Billy said, “Dad our roosters dead and his legs are sticking in the air. Why are his legs sticking in the air?” His father thinking quickly said, “Son, that’s so God can reach down from the clouds and lift the rooster straight up to heaven.” “Gee Dad that’s great,” said little Billy. A few days later, when Dad came home from work, Billy rushed out to meet him yelling, “Dad, Dad we almost lost Mom today!” “What do you mean?” said Dad. “Well Dad, I got home from school early today and went up to your bedroom and there was Mom flat on her back with her legs in the air screaming, “Jesus I’m coming, I’m coming” If it hadn’t of been for Uncle George holding her down, we’d have lost her for sure!”
THE FACELIFT
A woman decided to have a face lift for her birthday. She spent $5000 and felt really good about the results. On her way home she stopped at a dress shop to look around. As she was leaving, she said to the salesclerk, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how old do you think I am?” “About 35,”he replied. “I’m actually 47,” the woman said, feeling really happy. After that she went into McDonald’s for lunch and asked the order taker the same question. He replied, “Oh, you look about 29.” “I am actually 47!” she said, feeling really good. While standing at the bus stop, she asked an old man the same question. He replied, “I am 85 years old, and my eyesight is going. But when I was young there was a sure way of telling a woman’s age. If I put my hand up your skirt, I’ll be able to tell your exact age.” There was no one around, so the woman said, “What the hell?” and let him slip his hand up her skirt. After feeling around for a while, the old man said, “OK, you are 47.” Stunned, the woman said, “That was brilliant! How did you do that?” The old man replied, “I was behind you in line at McDonald’s.”
I hope you got a good laugh out of these three jokes. What a better way to start your day with some good filthy humor. More to come in the future.
HAVE A GREAT DAY
“The unborn work in the psyche of the artist is a force of nature that achieves its end either with tyrannical might or with the subtle cunning of nature herself, quite regardless of the personal fate of the man who is its vehicle.”
Carl Gustav Jung (26 July 1875 – 6 June 1961) was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. During that time, he came to the attention of Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis. Jung was also an artist, craftsman, builder and a prolific writer. Many of his works were not published until after his death and some are still awaiting publication.
ART IS THE SEX OF THE IMAGINATION
I’m sending these rather bawdy limericks along after receiving a few requests for a raunchier selection. I’m nothing if not a people pleaser, so here they are. That’s right, you know who you are!!
A fair-haired young damsel named Grace
Thought it very, very foolish to place
Her hand on your cock
When it turned hard as a rock,
For fear it would explode in her face.
😎😎😎
An innocent boy from Lapland
Was told that fucking was grand.
But at his first trial
He said with a smile,
“I’ve had the same feeling by hand.”
😋😋😋
A nymphomaniacal Italian nurse
With a curse that was worse than perverse
She stuck a rotary drill
Up her twat, for a thrill . . .
And they carted her off in a hearse.
😁😁😁
There once was a young man of Savannah,
Who met his end in a curious manner.
He diddled a hole
In a telephone pole
And electrified his banana.
🤬🤬🤬
Under the spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy he sat,
Amusing himself
By abusing himself
And catching the load in his hat.
Since we’re celebrating yet another Valentine’s Day, I thought a small collection of romantic limericks would be in order. If you’re expecting the lovey, dovey, type of rhymes you are about to be disappointed.
🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
There was a young lady of Dover
Whose passion was such that it drove her
To cry, when you came,
” Oh dear! What a shame!
Well, now we shall have to start over.”
💚💚💚💚💚
There was a young lady named Flynn
Who thought fornication a sin,
But when she was tight
It seemed quite all right,
So, everyone filled her with gin.
❤❤❤❤❤
There was a young lady of Gloucester
Whose friends they thought they had lost her,
Till they found on the grass
The marks of her ass,
And the knees of the man who had crossed her.
💗💗💗💗💗
❤The day has come,❤
❤The night is gone. ❤
❤My underwear’s missing, ❤
❤I just sat on my schlong.❤
💟💟💟💟💟
💘HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY💘
What makes an artist an artist? It’s a question that’s been asked thousands of times by thousands of people who have the creative urge and use it. Am I an artist? Do I really have what it takes to create something memorable and interesting to others? A lot of questions and very few answers usually.
As a young man I had a constant stream of creative thoughts, but it took many years for me to find a way to express myself. I tried everything oil painting, sculpting, photography, poetry, and even jewelry making. I’ve used every type of media from acrylics, latex paints, pastels, charcoal, and pencil sketching. I found I loved writing and BANG; my blogging life began. I love doing them all, but I still was never sure if I was a real artist. Even to this day when I’m struggling with an idea, I still have my doubts. An artist’s curse, I suppose. These short essays by some very smart and intelligent men helped to put most of my doubts to rest. Enjoy . . .
“The biographies of great artists make it abundantly clear that the creative urge is often so imperious that it battens on their humanity and yolks everything to the service of the work, even at the cost of health and ordinary human happiness. The unborn work in the psyche of the artist is a force of nature that achieves its end either with tyrannical might or with the subtle cunning of nature itself, quite regardless of the personal fate of the man who is its vehicle.”
Carl G. Jung (1875– 1961) “On Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry” 1930
“A work of art is the unique result of a unique temperament. Its beauty comes from the fact that the author is what he is. It has nothing to do with the fact that other people want what they want. Indeed, the moment that an artist takes notice of what other people want, and tries to supply the demand, he ceases to be an artist, and becomes a dull or an amusing craftsman, an honest or a dishonest tradesman.”
Oscar Wilde (1854–1900) ” Soul of Man under Socialism” 1891
Even these supersmart gentlemen don’t have the ability to remove all doubt about whether a person is an artist or not. It’s that consistent need by an artist to doubt his own abilities that inspires him to strive to become even better.
IT’S ALL GOOD
I’ve been a music lover since the age of seven. My tastes in music are eclectic to say the least because I love good old rock ‘n roll from the 50s and 60s, psychedelic rock from the 60s and 70s, and a few other things that caught my fancy along the way like opera and Glam Rock. Most people that know me would be shocked to know that I’ve been a David Bowie fan for many years and with his death the music industry lost a true star and innovator. This post today is celebrating the birth and introduction of Ziggy Stardust in London’s Toby Judge pub on February 10, 1972.
Bowie was just a minor rocker at the time but with the creation of Ziggy Stardust, Glam Rock was born. Any rock musician can put on a costume, but how many could have inhabited the identity of an androgynous Martian rock star come to Earth in its dying days, so effortlessly? To quote Vince Taylor, a figure well-known in late-’60s London, He was “A finger up the nose of pop sincerity…a boot in the collective sagging denim behind of hippie singer-songwhiners”. The album of the music age, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. was voted one of the top 30 concept albums in history.
With the death of David Bowie in New York City on January 10, 2016, music lost one of its greats. Fortunately for us all, Ziggy Stardust will live on forever.
RIP DAVID
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