timericks

Eggheads claim the bumblebee

Defies the law of gravity;

Way too large for such small wings,

How if flies much anguish brings

To researcher and savant –

Leaving them quite pale and gaunt.

But what keeps me awake at night

Is not the bumblebee's mad flight.

Instead, I wonder all night long

How could our airlines go so wrong?

Flying used to be a treat,

A pleasure in each catered seat.

But now it takes an iron nerve

To fly with only rude self-serve.

No meals, no room, the bathroom stinks;

They've even cut out lukewarm drinks.

The only part without surcharge

Is when your luggage goes by barge

To some Antarctic frozen shore,

There to rot forevermore.

The pilot's drunk, they've closed the gate;

But never mind, the flight is late.

The next time I am forced to fly

A bumblebee I just might try.

 

 

I, for one, can hardly wait

For the nursing home's glad fate.

Nurses at my beck and call;

Free eats in the dining hall;

Pills to make me sleep at night;

Pills to spur my appetite;

All the TV I can view;

Wheelchair races – quite a few!

Napping in my favorite chair;

Lounging in my underwear.

Living in such classy style,

Boy, it's great to be senile!

---

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dew point, don't stare

If you'd like to have my viewpoint

On this thing they call the dew point,

I will tell you, like the wind chill,

It is tilting at a windmill.

---

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sound effects

When I was barely twenty

My records were LP's;

The needle kept on skipping,

The woofers buzzed like bees.

When thirty years had passed me

I piled up eight-track tapes

Until they reached the ceiling

And toppled on the drapes.

When forty years attacked me,

Cassette tapes were my bag.

I put them in my walkman

And watched my belly sag.

Then fifty years did find me

With CD's everywhere;

My belly still was sagging

But now I didn't care.

As sixty fast approaches

My kids urge an iPod.

I tell them it won't happen

Without an act of God.

---

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car commercials

How I hate commercials

Showing all those brand-new cars –

Do they think my lifestyle

Is the same as movie stars?

And all those acrobatics,

When upon a dime it stops –

If I tried such shenanigans

I'd be dead meat for cops.

Now, inside all these buggies

There are gizmos past belief;

They guide you, test your blood pressure,

Advise on tax relief.

Everything is leather,

Solid gold or platinum;

The only thing that's missing

Is a place to park my gum.

Innuendo hints that if I

Do not buy the brand,

My IQ is deficient

And my pants are filled with sand.

But buying their jalopy,

I would need to raise more dough

Than the whole darn GNP

Of well-heeled Monaco.

So when such ads are on the air

I simply change the channel

To something less expensive but

Most likely just as banal.

---

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soybeans

I don't care how you slice it,

Whether pink or white or green,

You will not find me snacking

On the wretched soybean.

Roast it dry like peanuts –

I will just turn up my nose.

Cook up tofu burgers –

I will toss them to the crows.

Soy milk I abominate;

Soy butter's even worse

And if you give me soybean sprouts

You're gonna need a nurse!

Feed it to the poultry, pigs,

Or fatten up your cattle.

But put it on my dinner plate

And there will be a battle.

I tell you they're unnatural

And are not fit to eat;

After they are processed

They cost more than Grade A meat.

The only form this bean can take

That's not a total loss

Is when it's brewed into

A bottle of good soy sauce.

Patrick Henry – wasn't it? –

Did cry with his last breath:

"Give me meat and taters

and give soybeans quick death!"

---

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FW: from tim torkildson

---

From: tork49@hotmail.com
To: bb@pioneerpress.com; tork49@hotmail.com
Subject: from tim torkildson
Date: Mon, 16 Jun 2008 16:46:29 +0000

I wonder if the circus tent
still sets up in the park,
coming in on deisel fumes
while morning slips from dark,
and the squalid roustabouts,
tepid coffee swilling,
roll the canvas sections out,
as the dew is chilling.
Pennants snapping in the breeze,
arthritic bleachers cracking,
sawdust sprinkled frugally,
prop boxes unpacking;
guy wires thrum constantly,
laundry on them drying,
as the cookhouse opens up
with baloney frying.
Water for the animals
from a hydrant pumping --
elephants and stable boys
in the shade are slumping.
Weary early morning work
for circus folk, no doubt,
as they battle dust and flood
each day of summer's route.
I haven't seen a poster
for a circus in a while.
I wouldn't mind some peanuts
or the clown's extended smile.
The big top in a field of grass
is such a mythic sight
for youth who bask in sunshine
and the old who face the night.
Symbol of a passing age
when leisure was more fun,
I wonder if the circus tent
with charming us is done?

---

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---

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hideabed

There is nothing worse I dread

Than the nasty hide-a-bed.

A coal sack has much fewer lumps;

The thing is made by manic grumps.

How they must laugh when I awake

To find myself just one big ache.

Nobody ever slept in peace

On one without a lasting crease.

To purchase one is not so wrong:

It keeps your guests from staying long.

---

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the hemorrhoid

Maybe a deep thinker

Like the brilliant Dr. Freud

Could tell me why I'm tortured

By this constant hemorrhoid.

All I know is mornings

When the bird is on the wing,

I'm locked into my throne room

Hoping this time it won't sting.

Ointments?  I have many,

But the little that they do

Isn't worth the bother

Of the way I'm spreading goo.

A hot bath is a pleasant time

To soak this care away;

But how long can a working stiff

Inside his bathtub stay?

Often when I'm sitting down

I'll feel a little tickle,

Which keeps on getting worse and worse

Until I'm in a pickle.

I have to then excuse myself

And hope that a bidet

Is somewhere in the building

And there's nothing in its way.

Maybe I should have the doc

Go in and do some snipping;

But that's all that I really need –

A new hole in the ripping!

---

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the dentist

The dentist is a family friend

Who looks between your jaws

For any budding cavities,

While fingering his saws.

The dentist is as gentle

As the dew upon the grass –

At least that's what he tells you

When you're high on laughing gas.

His drills are quick and painless

And his skill is unsurpassed.

(See the couplet up above

concerning being gassed.)

Hockey players love him,

Even when they are back benchers,

Since he's the only guy in town

Who's working on their dentures.

Little children need not fear

That overhanging lamp –

When their parents get the bill,

They're the ones who cramp.

Braces and retainers

Are worth every costly cent –

Even though they're not paid off

'til dad is old and bent.

So when you see your dentist

Walking down the street, smile big –

Otherwise you'll find he wants

A root canal to dig.

---

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timericks

"Disposable income", you'll learn,

is not all the money you earn.

But, sadly, instead,

What's left when you're bled

By Uncle Sam at every turn.

 

 

 

The boat has sailed,

The barn door's shut,

The night has come,

I'm in a rut.

Ambition's dim;

Hope long deferred

Leaves me behind

The common herd.

I'll buckle down,

Fill in the blanks,

And rise again,

To rob some banks.

 

 

 

Boys are drawn to trouble

By a gravity unique

That causes them to tumble

From the highest mountain peak.

Advice is wasted on them,

To example they are blind,

Threats are cause for laughter,

As more mischief they will find.

Somehow parents love them

And forgive them time again.

Now that I am past all that . . .

I wish that I were ten.

 

 

 

I don't know why the necktie

Is demanded everywhere.

Me, I'd rather walk around

With collar proudly bared.

Circulation is restricted

When you tie the knot;

Your brain is starved of nourishment,

Your thinking goes to pot.

The necktie is a menace,

Hanging limply down your shirt;

It could catch on fire

And you'd sure be badly hurt.

Neckties are as silly

As a rhyme from Dr. Seuss,

And they do remind us

Of the hangman's awful noose.

Every meal you ever eat

While wearing a necktie

Just adds to the disgusting filth

Of this nylon pigsty.

So liberate your neck, my friends,

Remove that choking frill!

And leave them with the nice folks

At your neighborhood Goodwill.

---

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going green

I've tried to go green

But my efforts do fail:

Recycle a check

And they put you in jail!

---

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timericks

The faster the food,

The bigger the waist;

The newer the clothes,

The lesser good taste;

The longer the show,

The harder the seat;

The older the fool,

The more they repeat.

 

 

When the centuries have turned

To dust the greatest rocks,

There will be slick catalogues

Stuffed into my mailbox.

Long after I've departed

From this dreary mortal scene,

I'll still be on the mailing list

Of Mister L. L. Bean.

---

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great clowns

I miss the comics who had skill

To sugar-coat Life's bitter pill.

Stan and Ollie, thin and fat,

Convulsed us with their tit-for-tat.

Chaplin, ace of pantomime,

Waltzed from silly to sublime.

Groucho, Chico, Harpo Marx –

Masters of insane skylarks.

Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton

For our pleasure took a beatin';

Doing pratfalls on their face

With finesse and soulful grace.

Abbott and Costello burst

On the scene with "Who's On First".

And don't forget our friend Bill Fields,

Who over all a shot glass wields.

Now relegated to the gloom

Of a film museum room.

All the great clowns have grown mum –

Their feast of laughter's just a crumb.

Kids today have not a clue

Of what great comedy can do.

Instead, their comics have a stash

Of dope jokes while they're talking trash;

Pygmies who think decent humor

Went out with the Baby Boomer.

Laughter is so dirty now,

Just dump it on a garbage scow.

We get the comics we deserve –

Mostly sick and mostly perv.

Larry, Moe and Curly, please,

Deliver me from all this sleaze!

---

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soft soap

When I take a shower

I can use cucumber gel,

Shampoos by the dozens

And conditioners that smell;

Dead Sea salts and luffas

And deodorant on rope.

The one thing I can never find

Is just a bar of soap.

---

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timericks

Hark! You see them dawn to dawn –

Slaves a-toiling on their lawn;

Mowing, mulching, weeding, 'til,

Sickened, I have had my fill.

Striving for a velvet green,

Such a battle is obscene!

So much water on their grass;

Cascades of the Nile surpass!

My lawn has more modest needs –

Parchment brown and full of weeds.

I'm the master, not my yard.

Ignoring it is not so hard.

Mother Nature waters it;

I only mow when I see fit.

And I see fit infrequently,

When it's up around my knee.

In my hammock I will swing,

While the thistledown takes wing.

Let the neighbors hurl their curses;

I have time to pen these verses.

 

 

Little red stop sign, aren't you cute!

As right past I gaily scoot.

On this leafy street it seems

Pedestrians are only dreams.

Traffic laws I'll fudge a mite –

Even squirrels are not in sight.

There's no need my brake to floor;

I'm only doing twenty-four.

But then in my cracked rearview mirror

A flashing red light does appear.

Oh officer, please lenient be . . .

That stop sign was behind a tree!

---

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timericks

Some are squeaky, some are black,

Most my poor toes do attack.

All of them I lump together

As a vicious use of leather.

Round my feet they firmly coil,

Bringing them to smelly boil.

Spending money on a pair

Is tantamount to germ warfare.

Some day off my feet I'll rip

Penny loafer and wingtip.

Then I'll skip across the grass

'til I find some broken glass.

 

 

I am always one to shirk

Anything that takes teamwork.

Toiling as a group suits me

Like a dose of rank TB.

When committees start to function

It is time for extreme unction.

Team players are mindless drones,

Speaking in their monotones;

Corporate zombies that explain

Why this country's down the drain.

Edison would have faced ruin

Had he worked with a commune.

 

 

The earth shall belong to the meek;

Of this we oft hear preachers speak.

What I want to know

Is why it's so slow;

I needed my portion last week.

---

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