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"Under the Left Breast of the Century"

Started by Cain, October 18, 2005, 07:12:04 AM

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Cain

A new book of poetry by the former Bosnian Serb leader and fugitive war crimes suspect, Radovan Karadzic, has been launched in Serbia.

Mr Karadzic's publisher told AP news agency the poems had been completed in the past few months, but refused to say how they came into his possession.



I have come to a conclusion: anyone who is a poet should be barred from public office.  Without a doubt, nearly every poet who gets control of a country has turned out to be some looney fascist jerk we want to hang only years later.

The Doctor

Priest, Church of Eris

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Support A Cure For Ribbons!

Funny little human brains, how do you get around in them?

Zurtok Khan

Quote from: The Taco SpawnWhat about limericks?

Well, that just goes with out saying.
Resistance is Fertile.

Always acknowledge a fault. This will throw those in authority off their guard and give you an opportunity to commit more.
-Mark Twain

I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him.
-Mark Twain

Enrico Salazar

Quote from: CainI have come to a conclusion: anyone who is a poet should be barred from public office.  Without a doubt, nearly every poet who gets control of a country has turned out to be some looney fascist jerk we want to hang only years later.

In Salazore the only way to become leader is to prove your chops at poetry.  This is why Enrico simply took control of the leaders of Salazore, went on Salazorian television, recited a rather dirty limerick and then sawed the heads off the old leaders, placed the Imperial Margerine crown on his head and proclaimed himself leader.

Limericks beat poetry any day of the week.

Except Wednesday.


your friend,

Enrico.
Did someone say gorgeous?


BADGE OF HONOR

Well then what the hell is wrong with Wednesday?
The Jerk On Bike rolled his eyes and tossed the waffle back over his shoulder--before it struck the ground, a stout, disconcertingly monkey-like dog sprang into the air and snatched it, and began to masticate it--literally--for the sound it made was like a homonculus squatting on the floor muttering "masticate masticate masticate".

Enrico Salazar

Who wants to listen to Limericks on a Wednesday?  Not Enrico.

It's the middle of the week, so Enrico knows that he only has two more days by himself before he has to spend time with the goddam common-law wife . . . Plus Enrico's mother killed his favourite goat on a Wednesday . . . that goat knew all Enrico's secrets - wait maybe it's good he is dead, but still . . . also no good book was ever written on a Wednesday, at least that's what they taught Enrico in Sunday School.
Did someone say gorgeous?