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Lewinsky and Kaczynski

The Washington Post runs a weekly contest in its Style section called the 'Style Invitational'.

The requirements this week were to use the two words 'Lewinsky' (the Intern) and 'Kaczynski' (the Unabomber) in the same limerick.

Now, remember, the following winning entries were actually printed verbatim in the newspaper, no bleeps or xxxs:


Third place:

There once was a girl named Lewinsky
Who played on a flute like Stravinsky
'Twas 'Hail to the Chief'
On this flute made of beef
That stole the front page from Kaczynski.


Second place:

Said Clinton to young Ms. Lewinsky,
We don't want to leave clues like Kaczynski,
Since you made such a mess,
Use the hem of your dress
And please wipe that stuff off your chinsky.



And the winning entry:

Lewinsky and Clinton have shown
What Kaczynski must surely have known,
That an intern is better
Than a bomb in a letter,
When deciding how best to be blown.

When the FBI forensics department examined the Little Blue Dress, what did they find? NSFW & NSFSC.

Cedric was a peasant of good heart. but little will. It was a constant struggle to make ends meet in the little one-room hut he shared with his wife Lisbeth.

One afternoon while wandering through the wood he chanced upon a small, rough, figure of a man. While he'd never met a gnome before, he struck up a conversation anyway.

"I'm hungry," said the Gnome.

"Wait here. I'll be back before the sun falls below the trees," replied Cedric. He ran home and took a batch of newly-made bread from Lisbeth. He returned to the wood and gave it to the Gnome.

Said the Gnome, "For your kindness, I will give you these two gold coins."

Cedric returned home to his wife. She was overjoyed that he had finally aspired to bring a gnome the bakin'.

Sort of a hum drum Sunday, so I'm inspired to post something that IS really SILLY:

Have you ever serously considered the borders of the 48 states? They are all wildly different in terms of length, area covered, straight and/or jagged, no one state's jagged border the same configuration as another's . . . you get the idea.

But -- AMAZINGLY -- all states fit together! :-)

Here's a Challenge.....

Name That Tune

Did you hear the one about the composer who lined up the girls in the chorus one at a time. He placed the first girl standing facing forward, the second girl facing backward, the third girl facing forward, fourth girl facing backward, the fifth girl facing forward and the sixth, seventh and eighth girls facing backward.

Now, name that tune.

tbtbtbbb

How can you tell know that I got it?

Q. What's the difference between a southern zoo and a northern zoo?
A. The southern zoo has a description of the animal along with a recipe.

The southern zoo has a description of the animal along with a recipe.

Good one, Rod. In 2001, I visited Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana and I found the South does indeed eat all their local wildlife, on every menu I saw aligator, catfish, crawdad (sp?), grouper, just to name a few.

Thank you for the overture. Perhaps I shall. Perhaps not. Time will tell.

Some authorities claim that ttbttbttbbb is mathematically more accurate, but no matter what you give the teacher, that is just not right.

Thank you for the overture. Perhaps I shall. Perhaps not. Time will tell.

Well I'm tell-ing ya, your hints are over-the-top.

I knew the answer to your "challenge" even before I read Wagga's clue below it, Lynn.

It's the William Tell Overture (Rossini). (Titty rump, titty rump, titty rump rump rump.)

:-)

A bonanza of hints?

Comedian and writer Barry Cryer recalls the story of the tap-dancing duck act in which every night a world-weary mallard performed on a cake tin - until one night when the duck just stood there cleaning its feathers.

"What happened?" said the theater manager. The duck's trainer shrugged: "The candle went out."

A well-known professor of music was accustomed to receive letters from amateur musicians asking for auditions and from would-be composers asking him to look at their work. He always ignored them.

But one old lady was particularly persistent. Over and over again she wrote to him to ask him to visit her home to hear her cat play the piano.

At last he gave in. He had agreed to act as a judge at a music festival not far from the old lady's home and he decided that it might be amusing to call on her. So he telephoned her and arrangements were made for him to have tea at her home the following Thursday.

He arrived at the appointed hour to find that his hostess was a very pleasant and cultured elderly lady and not at all the sort of crank he had been half fearing. They sat down to tea and after a little while a cat sidled into the room, jumped up onto the piano stool and mewed. His mistress stood up, walked across the room and gently lifted the piano lid, giving the cat's head an affectionate caress as she did so.

The cat sat up, his paws hovered for fully half a minute above the keys, as though he were trying to come to a decision and then he started to play, a little hesitantly at first - because it was quite evidently the first occasion that he had performed for anyone other than his mistress - but then with growing confidence when he saw that the stranger's rapt attention.

He played the "Moonlight Sonata" very competently, two Chopin polonaises with passion and delicacy, and then a piece of Scarlatti with a flair approaching brilliance. Finally, he played a long piece which the professor failed to recognize.

The professor applauded heartily and turning to his hostess he asked who was the composer of the last piece. "Oh!", she said, "Didn't I say? He composes as well, you know. He wrote that last piece himself."

The professor replied "Now that is truly amazing. You should have it orchestrated."

The cat turned round, looking startled and dismayed, jumped down from the stool, ran across the room and out of the window, never to be seen again.

I assume that the cat heard "or castrated."

Our Rod is on the ball today...

This little story is dedicated to "No Whining" Moose Tracks.

In the era of the ancients, the gods controlled all aspects of life. The ancient astrologers assigned names to the constellations, and ascribed by observation various character traits to individuals based on the skies at birth.

Of course, some of these traits were positive, and some negative. And, as in all societies, the positive were rewarded and the negative, denigrated.

In one particular society one of the worst traits with which one could be born was to be a kvetch. Constant whining. Never-ending complaints. So much were these individuals hated that, in mind of some long-forgotten historic complainer, they were made to wear a large "H" on a rope around the neck, so unsuspecting society could see them coming.

As one such poor individual went to the agora one morning to receive his stigma and put it on, a bystander was heard to observe, "This is the donning of the "H" of a querulous."