This post is just for fun
You probably already knew that Isaac Asimov loved limericks. I agree with him that by definition a limerick is a poem with five lines, in the metric form: AABBA, and that it must be dirty. OK, they can be simply “naughty,” but the dirtier, the better.
Hence, the following doggerel is nothing special. They aren’t “clean limericks,” since that’s an oxymoron. Nay, simply call them “bad five-line poems.”
Without further ado, here’s my poetic tribute to the towering intellects who
blog write essays over at The New Toxonian.
That genius, R Joseph Hoffman,
Said “Oh, my, here’s a larf, man.
Despite my upbringing,
I’ve stooped to mud-slinging,
And now I can’t turn it off, man.”
A scholarly gent named Maurice,
Burst forth in creative release,
With arguments flung
In the original tongue,
His results were based on caprice.
Steph, who can seem a bit spacey,
Was shown evidence prima facie.
In a voice slightly nasal,
She gave her appraisal:
“Please wait while I ask Doctor Casey.”
The JP Trio
All hail the academicians,
Not guided by pride or ambitions.
Their historical Jesus
Has become processed cheeses,
Melted beyond recognitions.
- Hoffmann’s Ersatz Response to Mythicism (vridar.org)
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