I was reading a book called The Girl in the Plain Brown Wrapper by a writer named John D. McDonald (his best known novel is Cape Fear; it was called The Executioners in book form) I admire and came across this funny little limerick by Auden I'll include below. I thought it might be good for a quick little wordplay thing some might want to get in on as war is raging. For me it'll be a way to loosen up the egghead, stop killing threads, and also take a break from staring into the thickets of wind I guess I must just love producing. Hopefully so I'll eventually have a lot of scenes and eventual scenes to choose from, arrange, tweak and what have you.
Anyway, please, let me not get started. I'll include the limerick by Auden at the top, and three I shamelessly modeled after it below.
(Auden) As the poets have mournfully sung death takes the innocent young, the rolling in money, the screamingly funny, and those who are very well hung.
(Shlabotnik) The righteous have wrongfully said young women are better off dead, than swinging’ round poles and touching the old then trying to forget what they’ve said.
A rich writer once fell in his drink and kicked up a god-hating stink, he stank past eleven, he stank to high heaven, and come dawn he dropped dead on the links.
“How many love’s have you dared to stand tall in?” his hairstylist cried to the recently fallen. He hemmed and he hawed, then fractured her jaw, and said “Your curiosity’s what's really appallin.’
