SANTA SPEAKS

[SANTA IN THE UNDERWORLD (pt II) By Paul “Whitberg” Burgess]

“There, dead of sorrow fed by sad defeat,
Is Santa Claus—beloved of girls and boys.
His elves and he no longer could compete
With companies who specialize in toys
[Whose makers overseas can barely eat
On wages earned for bringing children joys].
The War of Toys was one which Santa lost
By failing to reduce his products’ cost.”

The empty sleigh on which he sadly sat
Reflected eyes of kids who’ve lost a pet.
He didn’t look too merry, jolly, fat,
or [please insert another epithet].
From slippered feet to faded Santa hat,
He’d weigh not fifty kilos soaking wet.
The times had weighed so heavily on him
That he’d become extr[a]ordinar’ly slim.

“I was as close,” said Santa, “to my elves
As any sword is to its sturdy hilt.
They put a part of me and of themselves
In ev’ry crafted toy they ever built.
But now our toys aren’t found upon the shelves,
And elvish sweat’s no longer being spilt.
…[and folk who left the elves without their jobs
are often heard to call them ‘mooching slobs’].

“But Santa,” said my ghostly guide,
“What matters is what people can afford
…Not whether toys were made with elvish pride.”
“Your head’s as empty as a swollen gourd
With little more than putrid air inside,”
A red but not-so-jolly Santa roared.
Then after finishing some breathless panting,
The saint began a round of angry ranting:

“Consumers shopping at retailers’ stores
Today will often pay as high a price
Though people viewed as creatures on all fours
Are paid a penny for the sold device.
While Captain Corp’rate’s swollen profit soars,
The local labor force is squashed like mice.
Still, lots of pious people often say
That Captain Corp’rate’s bound to save the day.”

I thought, “At home, the Poli-Pundit Clan
Might claim that Santa was a socialist,
But I’d suggest he’s just a broken man
(Or ghost) who has become extremely pissed
Because the bus’ness that his fam’ly ran
Evaporated like a spray of mist.”
Although his rage was getting out of hand,
Its causes weren’t so hard to understand.

 

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“Undiluted Nonsense”

“G.O.A.T.”
The people from a nation of note
Elected to office a goat.
“He’s not nearly as bad
As the humans we’ve had,”
Said those who for that creature did vote.

“Holy Abstinence”
A devout man decided for Lent
That he would not be paying his rent.
While the priest did approve,
The landlord said, “Move!”
And away that good man was then sent.

“Nuns Gone Wild”
Said a monk to a sisterly nun,
“I suggest some immoderate fun.”
So they counted their beads
And then planted some seeds
While enjoying the light of the sun.

“Mother Fu…Lover”
A person was trav’ling in time
When he drank some tequila with lime.
Then he slept with his Ma
And became his own Pa
Which is odd but not considered a crime.

“Buzz”
When a man was inhaling a breeze,
In his nostrils entered some bees.
Though the bees didn’t sting,
And he felt not a thing,
He now buzzes with every sneeze.

5 limericks by Paul Burgess; “Buzz,” “Mother Fu…Lover,” and “Nuns Gone Wild Are New.” I previously posted “G.O.A.T” and “Holy Abstinence” on days 1 and 2 of my “5 Limericks a Day” series: https://paulwhitberg.wordpress.com/2014/05/16/5-limericks-a-day-to-keep-the-dr-awayday-2/

https://paulwhitberg.wordpress.com/2014/05/15/5-limericks-a-day-to-keep-the-dr-away-day-1-2/

“On Inconsistency”–The Rambling Prose of Paul Burgess [Entry 3]

“On Inconsistency”

How unfair it is to criticize a thinker for changing a view considered earlier or perhaps only briefly! Should thinkers revere what they have written? Should they defend it, as if it were a child, solely because they gave birth to it? Should they cease to question, to explore, to consider? Should authors treat their own words as dogma to be defended rather than blocks on which they and others can build? When being refuted would better serve the advancement of knowledge, should ideas become pieces that thinkers must force into a scheme and view solely with an eye for “evidence” and “confirmation”? Why make consistent adherence, i.e. stubbornness, such a virtue?

The stigma of “fickleness” should attach only to those who change views for so-called “pragmatic reasons”. Those deserving this stigma are insincere political “flip-floppers,” trend-chasing courters of academic acclaim, and avowed intellectuals interested  only in greater mass appeal and the profit and fame that accompany such appeal; in other words, the fickle are those who only pretend to seek the noblest way or purest truth. There should be no shame in ceasing to hold a weak or false position once presented with a better alternative. What some call “inconsistency” is sometimes intellectual growth, maturity, and integrity. It requires more courage to say, “I was wrong,” than to persist in error or—as some people do—to deny that one ever held the discredited view by switching slyly to the new view once it receives authority’s sanction or attains popular acceptance.

5 Limericks a Day (To Keep the Dr. Away)–By Paul O’Burgess [Day 7]

At Home in Nature

There was once a person so broke
That he had to reside in an oak.
He wanted some girls
But settled for squirrels
Who’d not mind a man being so broke.

French Style

There was once an old woman from France
Who delighted in wearing no pants.
I have never yet guessed
Why she covered the rest…
…that eccentric old woman from France.

A Pious Young Boy

I knew once a boy so bizarre
That his body he’d feather and tar.
Himself he did scorn
For having been born
Once discovered he what sinners we are.

A Loan Never Repaid

A man asked me to lend him an ear.
I said, “Yes,” and then bought him a beer.
But he’d give it not back,
So an ear I now lack,
And I find it much harder to hear.

An Inspiring Political Speech

A man to be gov’ner aspired
Who delivered these words that inspired:
“If for me you don’t vote,
I’ll cut your mom’s throat.”
So, I gave him the vote he desired.

5 Limericks a Day (to Keep the Dr. Away) [Day 3]–By Paul O’Burgess

“Sex Ed.?”
There was a young person from Cork
Who wanted a child from the stork.
In the eyes of that bird,
It seemed quite absurd
To be wooed by that person from Cork.

“A Kindly Priest”
There was once a priest who would pray
the following words ev’ry day:
“Be you all at peace
In Rome and in Greece
With exception of anyone gay.”

“A Representative’s Plight”
A Rep, who’d become quite annoyed,
Asserted: “This bill should be void!
If more taxes I paid,
I’d have one less maid,
And a person would be unemployed.”

“Marie Antoinette”
Marie, when preparing to die,
Was heard to declare with a sigh,
“I’d lose not my head,
If only I’d said,
To the mob, ‘Oh, let them eat pie.’”

“A Well-Stocked Kitchen in the Middle East” [Today’s ‘dirty limerick;’ it is only dirty if, unlike its angelic author, you are perverted and hell-bound;)]

There was once a gal from Iraq
Who had her so lovely a rack.
Its space did suffice
To hold ev’ry spice
Required for cuisine in Iraq.

Devil’s Derivations (or Etymologies from Hell) [Day 1]

“ALTRUIST”

In the 1600s, missionaries sent to the New World would often promise to “help” a person only if she or he would concede that the missionaries’ beliefs were “all true”–or, as the phrase was sometimes written in the 1600s, ‘al true’. Like Puritans and Quakers, Altruists initially resisted but eventually embraced the term applied to them by cynical critics.

5 Limericks a Day (to Keep the Dr. Away)Day 1–By Paul O’Burgess

Day 1

1.

There was once a lawyer so kind

That he’d sue all the men who were blind.

“You have not the right

To be lacking your sight,”

Were the words of that lawyer so kind.

 

 

2.

The people from a nation of note

Elected to office a goat.

“He’s not nearly as bad

As the humans we’ve had,”

Said those who for that creature did vote.

 

3.

A man who to London once came

Insisted his tiger was tame.

When a swipe of its paw

Destroyed the man’s jaw,

Was the tiger really to blame?

4.

There was once a priest so divine

Who gave me some bread and some wine.

When fell I asleep,

He attempted to peep

At my grapes and to handle my vine.

5.

I met the philosopher Hume

And battered his head with a broom.

When he begged to know why,

I would only reply,

“To name causes I’d best not presume.”