Tag Funny

WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 5/25/2023

Chel Owens 28 Comments

What’s cheesier than a Vermont Cheddar? This month’s terrible poetry contest, of course! Matt, last time’s winner, suggested we write a limerick about the dairy product in question, and here are the winners:

Terror at the table

by DA Whittam

Vermont Cheddar Cheese was such a sleaze
Wheezed, seized, breezed, he’s enough to make one weak at the knees
Eyeing him disdainfully did nothing to ease
The fears his presence could not appease
Here, grab the skis and the keys, I’ll disappear into the trees.

—–

The Gambler

by seahorsecoffeeelektra79018

He was a good old egg who liked to gamble,
He never stopped talking, oh how he rambled.
One nasty night he lost his shirt. He got drunk.
He fell in the dirt. Now he’s a good old egg
Who’s somewhat broken and completely scrambled.

—–

Congratulations, DA and seahorsecoffeeelektra79018! You are the most terrible poets this month! We’re taking a summer sabbatical until September; but you’re both welcome to tell me a theme and form for next time, in the comments.

For the record, I’m going to sound like a broken record: all contestants did TERRIBLY. (I mean, that is the point of the contest, right?) I read over all the poems, snickered, read them again, snickered again, then could NOT decide who to crown as victor. DA and shce#’s contributions won by a hair -and, I realized, the same level of hair. I loved DA’s incessant rhyming and broken form; I loved sea’s broken form and mostly-rhyme. Plus, as was with all the submissions, they were terrible.

What a way to end (for now) on a high note! Enjoy reading:

Untitled

by TanGental

If I can no longer enjoy my cheese
Then would you put me at my ease:
Stop me crying,
Assist my dying:
Take my throat and give it a squeeze…

—–

Shredding The Cheddar

by Obbverse

I pondered on this tasteless topic blankly…
Because Vermont Cheddar stinks, and rankly,
There is the ripe question
Of long lingering indigestion,
I’d rather Brie or Philadelphia, frankly.

—–

Untitled

by Frank Hubeny

There once was a cheesy old cheddar
who never got under the weather. (pronounce this “wedder”)
Vermont Cheddar’s the name
of long-standing good fame
since tomorrow it tastes even better. (pronounce this “bedder”)

—–

Untitled

by Dumbestblogger

There once was a brave little cheddar
Who thought it was oh so much better
Than gouda or brie
Then it started to sneeze
For tickled it was with a feather

—–

Dairy in the air

by Michael B. Fishman

Her breath smelled like Vermont cheddar cheese,
so when she said, “Boy, won’t you come kiss me please.”
I just squeezed shut my sniffer
and dreamed of Aniston, you know, Jennifer,
and gave her lips a soft gentle squeeze.

—–

Untitled

by Ordinary Person

I’ve decided to give up cheese
especially Vermont Cheddar cheese
Why? What do you know about life?
Isn’t it full of strife?
I hate you Vermont Cheddar Cheese.

—–

A Stupid and Completely Fictious Story About Cheese, Jews, and Halachic Process

by Jewish Young Professional “JYP”

There once was a new kind of cheese
Where the protein was made out of peas.
The rabbis said, “No way!? (whey?)
Is this really okay?!?
To decide, we must use our rabbinic degrees.”

But the rabbis disliked intellectual work,
So they banned it, like they did Impossible Pork.
“We think banning is better –
Besides, this tastes like Vermont Cheddar,
And we prefer cheeses made in New York.”

Then came Shavuot holiday
Chief rabbi ate dairy all night and all day.
He produced so much gas
And hot air from his ass,
The chief rabbi up and floated away!

The rabbis said, “As much as we do not want,
To admit our Head Rabbi was intolerant
Of milk, lactose, and whey,
Guess we’ll say it’s ok
To eat that weird vegan cheese from Vermont!”

—–

Green Mountain Gold

by Greg

From Vermont came a cheddar, behold
Legend has it, one heck of a mold
Big cheese curd not forstall
The coming Woodchuck brawl.
For a chance to taste Green Mountain gold.

—–

Thank you, terrible poets. Maybe come back in September to see what the next prompt is!

Deb and seahorse: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2023 The poets, and their respective poems.

Friday Photo

Chel Owens 31 Comments

We saw a lot of strange things when we visited Florida.

I felt disappointed we never saw an alligator. Good thing, or we may have been tempted to let it eat out of our hands like a cute, little squirrel in a forest…

©2023 Chel Owens

The Terrible Poetry Contest 5/4/2023

Chel Owens 59 Comments

Hello, there. Welcome to the Terrible Poetry Contest for May, 2023. This will be the last contest before the host (presumably) resumes operations in September.

Haven’t heard about our esteemed ‘competition’ before? Read this post. We’re out to make-fun, but also have fun!

M won March’s contest. Here are the parameters he named for this month:

  1. Theme and Form
    Rest easy, guys. We’re doing a limerick about Vermont Cheddar Cheese.
    We’ve done limericks before, many times. A description of the form can be found at this link.
  2. Length
    Unlike cheddar, a limerick doesn’t take long. It’s five lines in anapestic trimeter.
  3. Rhyme?
    Cheese with ease, and rhyme the lines of AABBA this time.
  4. Terrible?
    Aging is an art, one applied best to solid dairy products one spreads on crackers. Terrible poetry, not so much. Make yours as tasteless as you’d like.
  5. Rating
    M didn’t say one, but I’m guessing he’s fine with anything. Anything, you hear? It is a limerick, after all…

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST on Thursday, May 25 to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous until I post the results. The form hasn’t saved what you submitted unless you see a message saying it has.

Or, for a cheesier experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Please alert me if your pingback or poem does not show up within a day.

The winner gains bragging rights, a badge, and the pick of next contest’s theme and form.

—–

Image by Blossom Blackwell from Pixabay. There’s probably Vermont Cheddar on that plate.

©2023 Chel Owens

WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 3/31/2023

Chel Owens 25 Comments

Contestants needed to write a triolet about cultural appropriation, thanks to Ordinary Person‘s pick for March’s terrible poetry theme. After all that work to deliver, here’s the winning poem:

CAT IS FARCE/racist face…

by M

Meow Face, funny face, red face, yellow face, black face😽
All of me, paw me😼
Found humor, in human race as I embrace
Meow Face, funny face, red face, yellow face, black face😽
Mad face, glad face, sad face stare you down with my debase face 😾
Arrogance I guarantee
Meow Face, funny face, red face, yellow face, black face😽
All of me, paw me😼

—–

Congratulations, M! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time (which will be the last before my usual summer sabbatical).

In fact, congratulations to all. The triolet form was tricky to write terribly within. It’s a tribute to your skill that no poem stood out to me; I read through several times and grew increasingly pickier in order to name a winner. M’s entry took a clever direction in coming from your ever-adorable online cat.

Believe you me, these are all worth reading:

How many cultures can I offend today? Hmm, let me try…

by Trent P. McDonald

Do you like my new kerchief?
Made by a Buddhist, Rasta Hippy
African rhythms by colonial thief
Do you like my new kerchief?
Native dances, grizzly bear teeth
Hindu symbols appear quite trippy
Do you like my new kerchief?
Made by a Buddhist, Rasta Hippy

—–

A farnarkerling good adventure

by Doug Jacquier

Amidst general farnarkerling,
a fair maiden did set her sights
on a ring a’sparkling,
amidst general farnarkerling.
Full of feckless fancy flights that sometimes sounded barkling,
she swore to tie the knot with a man in tights.
Amidst general farnarkerling,
a fair maiden did set her sights.

Lo, this handsome Visigoth,
known as Necro Mancy,
and to him she vowed to plight her troth.
Lo, this handsome Visigoth,
She checked he was not of the cloth
and found he was a prince so fancy
Lo, this handsome Visigoth,
known as Necro Mancy.

The handsome prince, with heart a’loudly pounding,
now without her he could not forebore
so sent to her a messenger with a sounding,
the handsome prince, with heart a’loudly pounding.
He waited for her reply, with his teeth a’grounding
and the very ground he did paw,
the handsome prince, with heart a’loudly pounding,
now without her he could not forebore.

The maiden shed a seemly tear or two
then gave herself to Necro Mancy.
And they did quaff a beer or two and
the maiden shed a seemly tear or two.
Necro did down a scotch and more than just a few
and then spoke in tongues all romancey
The maiden shed a seemly tear or two
then gave herself to Necro Mancy.

—–

Offended For Offendedness Sake

by Frank Hubeny

I didn’t grab your culture, dear.
I simply ate your tasty rice.
In spite of how it might appear
I didn’t grab your culture, dear.
So, stop the whining. Drop the sneer.
Forget I said the rice was nice.
I didn’t grab your culture, dear.
I simply ate your tasty rice.

—–

Give And Take Take Take

by Obbverse

Us colonists gave so much to the First Nations
And yet they remain ungrateful for all this?
We came, we saw, we made evaluations,
Us colonials gave so much to the First Nations,
Trinkets, reservations, blankets, flu, free inoculations,
Scarlet fever, filter tips, firearms, fire-water, syphilis,
Us colonists gave so much to the first nations
And yet they remain ungrateful for all of this?

—–

Road Warrior

by Obbverse

I’m no longer a loyal Harley-Davidson fan,
I’m appropriating a big red Indian Chief,*
My l’il Low Rider don’t befit a big ol’ American,
I’m no longer a loyal Harley-Davidson fan-
Found my big numb behind no longer can
Hardly sit on its seat without Prep H relief,
I’m no longer a loyal Harley-Davidson fan,
I’m appropriating a big red Indian Chief.

* Yes, that is the name of a model in the Indian lineup. Brav- bold choice.

—–

incomprehensible

by Ruth Klein

Speak now, or forever hold your peace
The preacher shouted at them
They said a triolet not a niece
Speak now, or forever hold your peace
iambi who? Does it cook in grease
amphibriaric drum the dumb drum
Speak now, or forever hold your peace
The preacher shouted at them

—–

Home of the Braves

by Greg Glazebrook

Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
Back and forth the tomahawk chop.
Warpaint, feather headdress, and drum,
Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
From what century did you come?
Ratta tat tat tat, make it stop!
Aah wah aah wah wah a warriors hum,
Back and forth the tomahawk chop.

—–

©Chel Owens. Created using MidJourney.

Thank you, terrible poets. back in May to see what the next prompt is!

M: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2023 The poets, and their respective poems.

Humor. No -Seriously, Folks.

Chel Owens 23 Comments

I love humor. It’s my favorite genre.

Photo by Vlada Karpovich on Pexels.com (I could find stock photos of people laughing, but chose this one…)

Contrary to what some might think, I’m not drawn to this topic because I’m a happy person. I come from a foundation of depression. I need levity, literally.

And, contrary to my counselor’s concerns, I do NOT laugh inappropriately. I’m very secure in my odd sense of humor -one not defined as ‘odd’ by other wry sorts (you know who you are).

On that note, I grew excited when my friend, John, wrote several pieces about humor for The Story Empire Blog. His latest, on funny books, really made me think:

  1. These posts on humor are not that funny (he admits AI wrote it).
  2. What is funny, really, and how could I write in a way that’s funnier?
  3. Lists of three things look more official.

So… first. Not only is the post (sorry, John) not that funny; this post that you’re reading scores very low on the laugh index. It needs a little something -or, a lot something. My favorite writers are those able to write informatively but also in an engaging (preferably entertaining) way.

Take a serious article I read recently, about misguided online advertisers. The author outlines trends, cites evidence, includes examples, and sprinkles us with random phrases to maintain interest. My favorite quote:

However, the truth is that while the emperor that is native advertising might not be naked, he’s almost certainly only wearing a thong.

“What You Think You Know About the Web Is Wrong,” Tony Haile, Time Magazine

This leads us, less funnily, to my second point: what is the definition of humor. What is funny?

Kevin, my husband, has told me that humor is the unexpected. We laugh when reading a common phrase that ends with an uncommon word. We quote the clever parody. We share comics portraying everyday situations in a different light.

Evidence?

Common with uncommon:

“We finish each other’s sandwiches.”

Parody:

The song is a parody; the video parodies the original music video as well, besides parodying other elements.

Absurd Comics:

©Gary Larson. I still see these shared, today.

After actually reading (boring) stuff online, I’ve learned we can split humor into at least nine types: slapstick, self-deprecating, improvisational, surreal, wordplay (wit), topical, observational, bodily, and dark. While I am familiar with many of these, I see the core element to be that unexpected surprise.

I mean, when’s the last time you laughed because the thermoregulatory hypothesis shows that an increase in the size of winglets aids in body temperature elevation by absorbing solar radiation to increase body temperature more quickly. Warming occurs in pockets of air beneath winglets, increasing temperatures of leg muscles, enabling winged insects to forage longer and further, and increasing response rates to aid in escape from predators. It is likely that these advantages also led to increased dispersal of the species. Basking in the sun is a common means of thermoregulation for winged insects. Butterflies and moths, which are broad winged insects, are believed to have arisen during the Triassic period from the Stonefly (Douglas, 1989).*

Am I right? What do you think about humor?

—–

Look! It’s last week’s stuff:
Friday, March 24: Friday Photo. Aren’t I cute?

Sunday, March 26: Shared a quote by Morgan Richard Olivier.

Monday, March 27: Mormon Monday: Listen to General Conference, tomorrow and Sunday!

Tuesday, March 28th-ish: Responded to Carrot Ranch‘s prompt. I couldn’t not, since reading The Giver and Gathering Blue…

Wednesday, March 29th-ish: This post.

PLEASE ENTER THE TERRIBLE POETRY CONTEST IF YOU HAVE NOT. I will be posting results tomorrow.

©2023 Chel Owens

*Okay; I lifted that from “The Life Cycle of Moths and Butterflies,” by Mary Walter. Bet you didn’t expect that.

The Terrible Poetry Contest 3/4/2023

Chel Owens 23 Comments

Welcome [Welcome! Welcome!] to the Terrible Poetry Contest for March, 2023.

This contest is simple: make fun of the serious poetry out there as much as you like. I’ve written some helpful guidance here or, as always, suggest copying the instructions for using a toothpick -but space out the lines so it looks intentionally poetic.

Now, onto the prompt! Ordinary Person won last month’s contest. Here’s what he suggested for this month:

  1. Theme and Form
    “[T]he form I’ve chosen is a triolet and the theme is …cultural appropriation.”
    Triolet is eight lines of poetry that follow a specific pattern -not just a rhyming pattern, but that of repeated lines as well. According to Wikipedia, “The rhyme scheme is ABaAabAB (capital letters represent lines repeated verbatim) and often in 19th century English triolets all lines are in iambic tetrameter, though in traditional French triolets, from the 17th century on, the second, sixth and eighth lines tend to be iambic trimeters followed by one amphibrachic foot each.” Here’s your chance to choose Anglophilia or Francophilia…
  2. Length
    I believe we’ve covered that. We’ve done just that. We’ve covered that. We’ve done just that.
  3. Rhyme?
    See the line(s), above.
  4. Terrible?
    Hey man, you go ahead and poem like somebody else. Dress in that lowercase existentialism. Talk like a bard. Jam as only a Rastafarian can. In the end, it’s individualism what brings cultural appropriation to life.
  5. Rating
    PG.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST on Thursday, March 30 to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous until I post the results. The form hasn’t saved what you submitted unless you see a message saying it has.

Or, for a more culturally-appropriate experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Please alert me if your pingback or poem does not show up within a day.

The winner gains bragging rights, a badge, and the pick of next contest’s theme and form.

Swiped from wikihow.

©Chel Owens. Created using MidJourney

—–

©2023 Chel Owens

WINNER of the Terrible Poetry Contest 11/30/2022

Chel Owens 33 Comments

Geoff, the winner of November’s Terrible Poetry Contest, presented us with a unique challenge. Based on his suggested parameters and the theme of climate change, here’s the winner for January:

Untitled

by Ordinary Person

Oh
Oh oh
the climate
Is it changing yet?
Yes yes it is my friend yes
I don’t know if this is eleven syllables
Or twelve, the climate, climate, climate, climate, climate
Climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, climate, cli-
mate (x whatever the next prime number is)
Climate climate…..

—–

Congratulations, Ordinary Person! You are the most terrible poet this month! Let me know what theme and form we’re to use next time.

The entries this time around were fantastically terrible. You’ve all done an awful job and I couldn’t be more proud. O.P.’s efforts stood out for boldly breaking form into repeating the dumbest part of his verse. His is certainly not the cleverest (whoever said that was the name of this contest?) but is quite bad.

All the rest were my second choice, losing only by a hair. Read, and enjoy:

Wet

by M

SIGH.
Really ?

This again

it never just rains
torrential downpours galore
FLOODS and MUDSLIDES and the sunken cars so deep

temperature pushes 70 in the North East
Snow, snow I get but it’s not snowing; it’s raining raining & raining
drip, drip, pitter, patter, whoosh whoosh whoosh, welcome to SPRINTER, not winter nor Spring
Is not normal people really, not normal: now I have to urinate really bad

—–

Toast to the Newlyweds: Climate Change and the Flat Earth

by Frank Hubeny

One (1)
and two (2)
then comes three, (3)
but climate change we (5)
all can see rhymes much worse than (7)
flat earth memes promoting free verse poetry. (11)

—–

Untitled

by Richmond Road

Gee
Can you see?
The living tree. On fire
Me. Just a bird on a wire
Half asleep. Flying backwards and so dreaming of forests long ago
Looking below. At another time. Branches to climb. Cut down in their prime.

—–

Untitled

by Doug Jacquier

The
bunyip’s
a legend
in Australia,
terrifying one and all.
A cross between emu and crocodile,
or a furry seal with terrible eyes and sharp teeth,
it preys on those unwary folk who stray near rivers and deep billabongs
venting its fury, like a giant platypus consuming an early lunch.

(Can’t post pics here unfortunately but you can see the products of some fervid imaginations if you search for ‘Bunyip pics’ in your browser.)

—–

Lustrum

by Not Pam

DOOM
Oh Man DOOM
Rain sleet floods pontoons
A burning inferno gloom
Where the hell is that air conditioned cold room?
TV on. Current affairs? Climate change? Dumb buffoons.

—–

Escape Plan

by Greg Glazebrook

Earth ֍ Mother ֍ Stick ‘em up! ֍ Gim’me all you got! ֍ Take, take, take, without a thought. ֍ Hands off the entire lot, it’s bloody well mine! ֍ I don’t care, leave it scorched, barren and beyond repair. ֍ In my rocketship, I’ll climb, leaving Mother Earth behind — Ciao suckas!!!

—–

True Story

by Jewish Young Professional

An
iceberg
breaks off of
Antarctica like
a star that the sky couldn’t keep
for herself, too weighted with water and gas,
leaving a hole sized like Greater London, but, good news,
“Not climate change,” the scientists say. But there’s other reason for alarm.

—–

Is it hot yet?

by Ruth Klein

Sweat
Slimy
Steamy land
Storms wild, childlike
Strength of nasty temps, up/down
Scientists mumble, stumble,
profess the doom
Stir up word muck throwing –
blankets piled or skin removed
Stay in the know, let the wind blow,
whatever rocks your boat, I
know right?

—–

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Thank you, terrible poets. Head over here in March to see what the next prompt is!

Nitin: Here’s your slightly-inaccurate badge you can post as proof of your poetic mastery:

terrible-poetry-contest

©2023 The poets, and their respective poems.