Friday, March 02, 2007

Iowahawk's Three Eco-Spiritual Laws

If they consider it over the top, my Massketeer companions are free to delete this post. I merely draw attention to a recent effort by the funniest man on the Internet.


Athos said...

In abject contrition duly vow to send my $9.95 per month to pay for my eco-sin indulgences to Iowahawk. And if you believe that, you can join me on Athos's "9-day Celebrity-Grave Tour" that begins at Graceland and ends at Anna Nicole Smiths' grave in the Bahamas. Only $2,995!

Athos said...

Applying the two-fer rule and speaking of humour:

Two Limericks by Ronald Knox:

Exchange and Mart

An Anglican curate in want
Of a second-hand portable font
Will exchange for the same
A photo (with frame)
Of the Bishop-Elect of Vermont.

The Modernist's Prayer

O God, forasmuch as without Thee
We are not enabled to doubt Thee,
Help us all by Thy grace
To convince the whole race
It knows nothing whatever about Thee.

Transcribed from The Oxford Book of Comic Verse, edited by John Gross.

Porthos said...

I like the second one! The first one seems like an arcane, "had to be there" kind of in joke!

Like the following!

That Massketeer Anglophile Ath
Has taken an odd sort of path
With his wry verse by Knox
And his Campbell plaid socks,
But at least there's no Sylvia Plath!

Athos said...

To be sure you will have your little joke at my expense, Porthos. I would never stoop so low. Or rather, give me a moment to cook one up. However, I thought of Ernest Angley once and wrote:

A faith-healer once grew most volatile
For his flock found he had no hair follicle
He flew straight out the door
When his toup hit the floor
But his flock found the whole thing most jollicle!

Is that scapegoating?

Porthos said...

No, not really.

I tried to do one about myself, but it's really hard to find words that rhyme with Porthos.

My dad taught me a a huge number of limericks when I was a lad, but they are unrepeatable in polite company.

Porthos said...

This just in. Aramis' latest email to you/us bounced, Ath, so I tried to forward it. Did it work?

Athos said...

I got it, and replied. Thanks, Porthos!

When I was at Duke, the Rev. Bob Young (Meth.) was the Chaplain to the University and was renowned for his melodious, deep voice in the pulpit at Duke Chapel. I wrote the following on an achingly boring and sleepy Sunday afternoon staffing the Div. School Library front desk:

There once was a prominent preacher
Whose voice was his dominant feature
In Fall when it came time
He'd pray before game time
And sit free in his favorite bleacher

Ah, the blessed days of expending cerebral energy on doggerel - past glory and all that.

But, let's see: trouble rhyming with 'Porthos', eh? Okay, just a try.

There once was a teacher named Porthos
Whose garden lay outside his doorpost
He saw left over rocks,
Strained carrying them blocks
Now his borders are neat in the foremost

Not elegant and a bit strained, but it'll do.

Porthos said...

Good going! I gave up on Porthos at the end of the line and was trying to do something with Mahler:

Poor Porthos, who posts with his Mahler
in an effort to make himself taller

or use pallor, or squalor, or valor or something like that . . .

As you can see, didn't get very far with that.

The kind of limericks my dad taught me were like,

There once was a _________ from _______
Who ______ ___________ __________ _____
Well, ___ ______ ______ _____ ____
And ______ ______ ______ ______ ____
So _______ _________ _________ ________ _______ !

You get the picture!

Athos said...

Yes, of course. My limerick that shall not be named had 'Nantucket' mentioned. Nuff said.