I have three statements to make to start this post: I love T-shirts, I’m a proud American, and I have little or no use for politicians. That being said I wore one of my favorite T-shirts while food shopping yesterday. I have at least eighty T-shirts with all sorts of designs concerning musical groups to chintzy advertising logos, and I love them all. Yesterday’s shirt stated plainly “I love my country, but I fear my government”. I often get comments from passersby about the messages on my shirts, but this one apparently caught the attention of a number of people. They weren’t upset with me for wearing it, they were patting me on the back for wearing it proudly. Our founding fathers were very open about the responsibility of the citizenry to keep an eye on the government. Unfortunately, in recent years that is no longer the case. These days everyone can complain until their blue-in-the-face but unless your part of the politically elite you’re wasting your breath. Maybe it’s time to review some of the history of this country and the revolution that spawned it.
On June 12, 1775, the British offered a pardon to all colonists who would lay down their arms. There would be only two exceptions to this amnesty: Samuel Adams and John Hancock, if captured they were to be immediately hanged.
“July 4th” could just as easily have been celebrated on July 2nd. It was on that date in 1776 that the Second Continental Congress voted our independence from England. John Adams, in fact, wrote: “The Second Day of July 1776, will be the most memorable epoch in the history of America.” He believed that it would be celebrated, by succeeding generations, as the great anniversary festival. “It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires and Illuminations from one end of this continent to the other from this day forward forever more.”
On July 4, 1776, King George III wrote in his diary, “Nothing of importance happened today.” He had no way of knowing what had just occurred that day in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
And one signatory of the Declaration of Independence appended his address: Charles Carroll “of Carrollton,” Maryland. He wanted to be sure that the British, if they wanted to hang him, knew full well where to look for him.
It wasn’t until January 19, 1777, that the national Congress made public all of the names of the men who affixed their signatures to the Declaration of Independence. One reason for the delay may have been the knowledge that if the war effort failed, the signatories would have sealed their fate as traitors.
I’m willing to bet you couldn’t find five current politicians in this country that would even consider doing half of the things the Founders dealt with at that time. Their pride in this country during its formation in the 1700’s seems to be a long dead memory. I wonder what would happen if tomorrow the British decided to retake America and threatened to hang all of our politicians who refused to surrender. I fear the roads to Canada would be clogged with carloads of fleeing representatives from this great nation. What do you think? I also wonder how long it would take the Canadians to close their borders for their own protection.
It’s sunny outside. I’m not quite sure how it happened but it’s an effing miracle. I’m sitting here basking in the sun as I read through some of the thousands of limericks I have on file. Today’s limericks are not for the youngsters or those overly sensitive and chaste virgins. They were apparently written in the early 1980’s when an off-color sense of human was more acceptable. For a change these are a little bawdy but in a cute and funny way and I hope you enjoy them.
Here we go again with another rainy and gray day. Spring really wants to make an appearance but for some reason she’s having difficulties. The sun shines brightly for 2 hours a day broken up into 15-minute segments. The problem then becomes when you have a “freezing your ass off” moment every time a cloud goes by. Truthfully Mother Nature is really starting to piss me off.
Now let me get back to the subject. A few months ago, I purchased a pile of old used books which appear to have once been library books. I have books from libraries all over the country. One in particular is a book of limericks (mostly clean) written by some well-known authors and celebrities. See what you think.
By: Lewis Carroll
His sister named Lucy O’Finner,
Grew constantly thinner and thinner,
The reason was plain,
She slipped out in the rain,
And was never allowed any dinner.
💥💥
By: Ogden Nash
It was an old man of Calcutta,
Who coated his tonsils with butta,
Thus, converting his snore
From a thunderous roar
To a soft, oleaginous mutta.
By: Oliver Wendell Holmes
The Reverend Henry Ward Beecher
Called a hen a most elegant creature.
The Hen, pleased with that,
Laid an egg in his hat,
And thus did the hen reward Beecher.
💥💥
By: Rudyard Kipling
There was once a small boy in Québec
Stood buried in snow to his neck.
When asked: “Are you friz?”
He said: “Yes, I is,
“But we don’t call this cold in Québec.”
💥💥💥
As you can imagine I read hundreds of limericks a month but even I was taken by surprise when I read these four. Just goes to show you that even celebrated writers and authors have a real bitch of a time writing limericks. I’m sure that if of you took a few minutes, you could write better stuff than this. Only one of these four showed me something interesting and that was the one by Oliver Wendall Holmes. Read it carefully and see if you spot his clever efforts.
I stumbled upon a book of limericks some months ago and finally took the time to read through it. Bear in mind that the writers of these limericks are now 57 years older, and many have sadly passed away. Let me bring a few of their limericks back to life if only for a moment for you to enjoy them. These are selections related to our loving pets and other lovable animals.
I’m a fan of some poetry. That being said I prefer short poetry like haikus or limericks. What I like even more is poetry written by younger children because it seems they write what they’re feeling and that makes it special. In the past I’ve posted poems from younger children collected from English-speaking countries around the world and today I offer four more excellent examples of their work. Their poetry is alarmingly good for their young ages and today’s topic will be Feelings. Enjoy!
Today I’d like to talk about virgins and virginity. Whether we like it or not there aren’t as many virgins available as there once were. Back in the day virginity was prized by almost everyone but I think those days have passed us by forever. I’m reminded of a joke I heard a few years ago that the only virgins left were “ugly third graders”. It was funny at the time but the more I thought about it the more unfunny it became. I’ve been around a very long time and my experience with virgins is damn near nonexistent. With the advent of “soaking” (thanks to those devote Mormons), I’m not entirely sure if the term virginity even applies anymore. Since I admittedly have no clue about virginity, I thought I’d revert to my library for some soulful inspiration. My first choice when diving into my library is always limericks. Here are four limericks concerning virginity or the lack thereof. Enjoy!
I thought we should visit some children today and read some of their outstanding poetry. Many of these kids are between the ages of 4 and 13 and are from various English-speaking countries around the globe. I find their poetry extremely innocent and pure because they write what they feel without any real awareness of political correctness or the many biases that seem to be everywhere these days. Enjoy them.
🚸🚸🚸
By Sarah Gatti, Age 10, New Zealand
THE SUNBEAMS
It’s a sunny, sunny day today,
There’s not a fluffy cloud in the sky.
The sky’s all blue in a light blue haze,
The orange sun is shining as it stalks along the sea,
And leaves a shiny golden path, for me to walk along.
A few weeks ago, I posted a number of limericks written in the World War II era. Your response was much better than I anticipated so I thought I’d dig up a few more from that same era to make you laugh and smile all these years later.
I’m about to do something I promised myself I wouldn’t ever do. Today I’m going to post three truly lewd and disgusting limericks. This is to appease a small number of readers who’ve been begging and bugging me for months to print some filth. It’s not something I want to do but I will do it albeit with a slight twist. As you read these three limericks you may notice a large number of asterisks. It’s part of the twist for you to determine the missing letters. That’s the best I can do for all you pervs out there, so enjoy.
“The poet is a reporter interviewing his own heart.”
Christopher Morely
***
Poetry at times can be beautiful. It can bring tears to your eyes and joy to your heart but as with anything it also has the ability to become something dark and disturbing. I try to make a point of reading samples of poetry from as many poets as I can. Some of the most touching poems are not about happy moments running through fields of flowers with birds flying around, but of deep sadness and pain.
On a regular basis I make purchases from thrift bookstores on eBay. A book arrived at my home recently and I knew reading it was going to be extremely difficult. It’s a selection of poetry written by young people who have had to deal with divorcing parents. The book istitled “broken hearts… healing”, Young Poets Speaking Out, compiled and edited by Tom Worthen, Ph.D. I just finished reading the first half of that book and it forced me to deal with the pain I caused to my own son. Many years ago, I ended a twenty-year marriage and caused a great deal of pain to a young man that we adopted (at age twelve) from a number of state-run foster homes. He deserved better than we were able to give him at the time, and this book brought it all back with a vengeance. Here are two poems that brought tears to my eyes.
TUG OF WAR
Nobody has the life I have,
I can’t imagine if the whole world did.
My parents don’t even talk,
They get to ask who wants us and when.
It is like me and my two sisters are in the middle of everything.
So I hope you don’t have the life I have,
And if you do I’m sorry.
by Beth, Age 11
***
WHERE IS MY DAD?
He comes around like he cares,
but when I was young he was not there.
He has a new family and a wife to love dear,
when I was around he made me feel weird.
When I was alone crying in my bed,
was he there, no, it was mom instead.
When I look at my friends with their moms and dads,
