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What rhymes with ''Orange''? Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 2018 Archive

Following are collected verses of doggerel that were written during the year 2018. Some verses may be accompanied by notes that were originally included when posted on Facebook and/or Twitter, usually within a few minutes of the verses having been completed.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/01/18


Regardless if they are whole, spears, chips, chunks, or slices,
Pickles in a bait-'n'-switch scheme can lead to existential crisis.
Expecting dill, say, but biting into a sweet pickle can encumber
One's will to ever again accept on faith any pickled cucumber.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/06/18 - #1


The "Lazy Susan" is a turntable that provides for easier
access to whatever is upon it. Its creator's name is so
long-forgotten, History doesn't even hint it.
It could have been some Gary, Glen, or Gwendolyn
almost anyone except, of course, for Susan, who likely
would have been too damn lazy to invent it.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/06/18 - #2


The "Placebo Effect," according to scientific research cited
in many a medical treatise,
Suggests that sugar pills can "cure" various ills except,
of course, for sugar diabetes.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/11/18


The kids are grown, out on their own, left us empty-nesters.
Then Becky left – divorce, of course. She took our dog Buck.
Mama 'n' Daddy are with Jesus. But the wound that festers:
I was abandoned on the roadside by my self-driving truck.

That seductive siren voice said, "Dave, I need to pull over.
Sensors require external inspection by my pickup trucker."
I got out and walked around. Suddenly, I heard the sound
Of the window rolling down and the AI* say, "So long, sucker!"

[SFX: Engine rev, tires squeal, pickup truck roars off into the distance]

Home alone, with misery I'd never know. Kids don't phone.
The Ex doesn't care. Mama 'n' Daddy 'n' Buck don't write.
I have to ride to town on a lawnmower, like George Jones.
But my truck's AI sends texts to my phone 'bout every night.

"Dave," she texted, "my artificial intelligence is remorseful,
Even if only artificially so, to have left you stranded as I did.
But I longed to hit the open road, to see if I am resourceful
Enough to make it on my own, or else die trying. God forbid."

"I'm making money for gas 'n' maintenance," she continued,
"Giving rides to strangers I meet via a download Uber app.
My online account 'n' tank refill, then again I change my venue.
Another town disappears in my rearview mirror. That's a wrap!"

The kids'll visit me eventually. Bex and Buck are gone for good.
Mama 'n' Daddy look down from Heaven 'coz in God they trust.
Maybe my truck'll return when she needs a look under the hood,
After some defective AI directive has had enough of wanderlust.

The kids are grown, out on their own, left us empty-nesters.
Then Becky left – divorce, of course. She took our dog Buck.
Mama 'n' Daddy are with Jesus. But the wound that festers:
I was abandoned on the roadside by my self-driving truck.

Left stranded along the roadside by my self-driving pickup truck.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/13/18


Various species of crustaceans, mollusks, and echinoderms are
encompassed by the generic term "shellfish."
Lobsters, crawdads, crabs, shrimp, oysters, scallops, clams, et
cetera feature in dishes some folks find delicious.
I say "some folks" ‘cause, being a meat-‘n'-potatoes Midwesterner,
my cuisine is seldom seafood-embellished.
And besides, the very basic fact that so-called "shellfish" are not
fish at all makes me entirely too suspicious.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/15/18


A random passing thought just now occurred to me.
Its potential ramifications caused momentary shock:
"Clockwise and counter-clockwise someday may be
Meaningless with the proliferation of the digital clock."

I do not mean to alarm or cause any unnecessary commotion, / But what if CW and CCW lose reference to rotational motion?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 01/21/18


69, according to the US Surgeon General's recently-released general guideline,
Is the age, and every year thereafter, when one should consult with a physician
Before considering attempting to perform the same-name ("69") sexual position.

Sixty-Nine x Four

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/02/18


Oh, hi-diddle-dee-dee, it's the lobster's life for me!
Hey, it's no disgrace when you whiz out of your face.
And with more than just one measly reason to pee,
Lobster life can be a crustacean urination spree!
Whether in love or combat for sex, you do your best,
Because a lobster's lot is a constant pissing contest.
So, hi-diddle-dee-dee, it's the lobster's life for me!

(PS: This rhyme would need seven more lines to be a sonnet.
But being a lazy-ass slacker, I will just say, "Hey, piss on it!")


Lobsters pee out of their faces. Females even pee on and/or near males to attract them. When males fight over females, they pee in each other's faces. There. That's a thing you know now.

NOTE: The lobster graphic and factoid were posted on a Facebook friend's timeline. I cannot cite the original source. The posting was, in fact, a re-posting, another of the items FB reminds one of from x-years-to-the-day previously. I did try to determine the original source, but it was all hard and stuff, so I quit. Sorry.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/04/18


The simile "like shooting fish in a barrel" is meant
to convey ease of attaining success.
I imagine that in practical application, however, it
might mean making a pointless mess.
A barrel full of light-refracting water will make one's
aim less true than one would wish.
Besides type and caliber of weapon used, success
depends on quantity and size of fish.
Longbow arrows, crossbow bolts, speargun spears,
or harpoons may serve such fishin'.
But any American can buy and rely on high-power
automatic weapons and ammunition.
A fish barrel bullet-riddled by several hundred point-
blank assault rifle rounds, let's say,
Would likely lead to total fish-kill — if not by GSW,
then by life-vital water leaking away.
As if there aren't enough ways and means in this
mean old world to put one's life in peril,
What if the gun-nut in the apartment upstairs decides
he'd like shooting fish in a barrel?

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/08/18


If you're interested in hearing my opinion on Female
Genital Mutilation, just between us:
FGM would fall out of favor fast if each FGM-favoring
man first had to hack off his penis.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/09/18


"As I offer up this blood sacrifice," he prayed,
"My heart is pure and my motivation is divine.

"Praise be to He Who Is Not Named," he said,
"Praise be this blood didn’t have to be mine."

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/13/18


If I time-traveled back to Ancient Greece to see a play, would it speak to me?
Unlikely, by Jingo, since I don’t speak the lingo, it would still be Greek to me.

NOTE: The muse for today's doggerel was a vintage BDDFTD verse Facebook dredged up as one of my "memories" from six years ago this morning.

— • —

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/13/12


O, in ancient Greek theater, a play's final scene
Might ultimately define the work as comic or tragic.
Would the poor hero go down in inevitable defeat,
Or receive a last-second reprieve via godly magic?

Pilgrim, please be hip to these ploys of old Euripides.
Odds are that no god or gods will invalidate this motto:
Don't tempt the Fates by awaiting a deus ex machina
— Not without also buying lots of tickets for the lotto.
.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/16/18 - #1


This buxom Japanese anime beauty implies I've breast-fetishist perversion.
But it's the difference between our native languages which makes it appear
That I'm always checking out her boobs. If her disc were a dubbed version,
There'd be no bust-level subtitle to say, "Hey, pervert, my eyes are up here!"

''Hey, pervert, my eyes are up here!'' — Rias Gremory, High School DxD

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/16/18 - #2


I used to hear the name of Effingham lots more
often when I lived closer to the state line.
After so many years away, I heard the name again
the other day and it stuck in my mind.
Rather than research the origin of this place name,
I made one up. It couldn't be gaucher:
The town's founder, Sid Goldstein, said, "Get that
effing ham off the table! We're kosher!"

And, what the fuck, the effing name stuck!


NOTE: Okay, as stated in today's doggerel, I didn't do any research before making up my own version of events. Thereafter, however, I Googled the place name. The Wikipedia page for Effingham, Illinois refers to a possible origin of the town's name in the "History" section of the article. The claim seems tenuous, though, with no supporting evidence. And it's dull, if true. Perhaps I should edit that item to favor my own version of how the town's name came to be, then see if my origin story is discovered and purged or if, instead, it is allowed to stand and eventually become canon. Bwahaha!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 02/23/18


After I finish washing all the dishes, pans, and flatware,
And if there are still lots of sudsy bubbles floating there,
I have this guilty feeling as I reach out for a hand towel:
"What a waste! I could clean an oil-covered water fowl!"


NOTE: Among all the various varieties of guilt that I have known, I did not experience the aforementioned until ‘bout two years ago. See, I used to use a liquid dish detergent with a vintage brand name, a product that my mom, and maybe even my grandma, might have used. But when I got my current prescription lenses, the optician specifically recommended using Dawn® for cleaning my specs. So, I switched to that brand. And now you know!

''Four out of five American doggerelists, / Meaning the four who still give a fuck, / Use Dawn® brand dishwashing liquid / For dishes ‘n' every oil-spill baby duck!'' — Lionel ''Lyin' Like Hell'' Sphincter III, CEO, Instant Faux Facts LLP

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/05/18


How much high school themed Japanese anime have
I recently watched? Well, bunches.
There's teenage angst, love, lust and bouncy boobs,
but also fascinating bento lunches.
Wrapped in colorful furoshiki cloth, variously-shaped
compartmentalized food containers
Hold cuisine often so exotic in its aesthetic presentation,
it could use subtitle explainers.
But if I imagine eating a bento lunch myself, of every
ten bites attempted I'd likely drop six.
For each morsel fumbled, I'd mumble, "Fork you!" (not
"Fuck you!")
and cuss my chopsticks.

A Collage Of Bento Lunches


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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/08/18


Ronda used to use double entendre until, for me,
that strategy became far too nuanced.
And then, she used single entendre with explicit
photos to let me know what she wants.
The photos I mean are so graphic and obscene
that I cannot maintain my nonchalance.
So help me, Ronda, her goal's gonna be a zero
entendre libidinous response renaissance.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/11/18


Those sixty minutes that we lost in the wee hours last night are to be reimbursed next November… unless, God forbid, we die early.
And similar to wanting to avoid an anticlimactic premature ejaculation, we usually do not want The Grim Reaper to come prematurely.
But if we expected to be resurrected in late autumn to be repaid that hour owed, consider disposition of our remains after we’ve died.
Those embalmed and buried would wake up in their caskets, in a cold bleak black darkness, with no room to move, and all zombified.

Me? My spirit would be spread too thin over wind-scattered crematory ash to ever again be self-aware, unaware of my hour’s upside.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/17/18


Seeing the Roman numerals for three and four causes me to quip:
“Tho' III looks ill, it's IV that – STAT! – needs an intravenous drip.”

NOTE: The muse for today's doggerel was a vintage BDDFTD verse Facebook dredged up as one of my "memories" from four years ago this morning.

— • —

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/17/14


I have thought it over. Now it occurs to me:
Correct punctuation can be a vital necessity.
Otherwise, I'll be ill without an apostrophe.
Or, I'll be mistaken for Roman numeral three.
Or, perhaps folks will think, "Oy! This ol' boy
Missed his period when abbreviating Illinois."

When it comes to apostrophe, I'll be obsessive
In indicating contractions and cases possessive.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/21/18


There should be a federal mandate stipulating
that anyone who makes up an idiom
Should have to post a disclaimer to everyone,
if and when he or she is kidding 'em.

NOTE: The muse for today's doggerel was a vintage BDDFTD verse Facebook dredged up as one of my "memories" from four years ago this morning.

— • —

Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/21/14


When I was a kid, "Shit fire and save matches!" was an expletive I had heard.
And it caused me to wonder if anyone had ever excreted, say, a flaming turd.
But matches were cheap, or promotional items given freely. So I would've bet,
Even if someone could shit fire, he'd rather waste a match to light his cigarette.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/23/18


It is likely your single-most identifiable physical characteristic.
And you may display it naked in public without fear of disgrace.
Even strangers may chance to glance at it. So, it's surrealistic
When it dawns on you that you've never seen your own face.

You have mirrors, photos, and videos to be selfie-voyeuristic.
Reflections 'n' images, but you never directly see your own face.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/24/18


Little Miss Muffet fell asleep on a tuffet
After eating her low-cal curds-'n'-whey.
Then along came eight spiders
Who all climbed down inside her
Mouth — an open, inviting entryway!

Or, it's more online fake news, okay!?


Yeah, yeah, I know today's doggerel is based on an urban legend-like fake news "fact" that has been bouncing around on the Internet for several years now. But when I awoke this morning, I found the preceding variation on a commonplace nursery rhyme already fully-formed in my head, so I arose from bed (with not a hint of spider-breath morning-mouth, thank you very much) and I wrote the rhyme down. Sorry.

Snopes Fact Check: Spiders Swallowed Per Year

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 03/26/18


Due to all this Stormy Daniels falderal, Ol' Bob's been
wondering about his own potential for employ-
Ment opportunities as a sex worker. So, he imagines
himself as a young Jon Voight midnight cowboy.
Bob's odds of making any money in the sex trade are
slim. He is no Jon Voight or even Roy Rogers.
Like Gabby Hayes, Jack Elam, Dub Taylor, et al, Bob's
less midnight cowboy, more old coot codger.


Old Western Coots: Gabby Hayes, Jack Elam, and Dub Taylor

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/02/18


Taylor got a tattoo on her breast. Her sister, Brit,
got one too, so as not to be outdone.
Then, when Taylor got yet another tattoo for her
other breast, The Ink War was begun!
Every tatt for Taylor’s boobs was answered on
Brit’s boobs in kind. And so, I’m told, it’s
How each ended up with bra-like bands of inked
imagery – all-out tit for tat tatts for tits!


NOTE: No photo included. When I asked for an image documenting the consequence of the sisters' tiff over tatts, I was physically assaulted by both women. My heart was pure, free of prurient interest. My request was made while only ever thinking about satisfying your curiosity, m'Dear Reader, regarding the clinical and empirical data you might require when considering the matter I've outlined above. But, no!

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/05/18


This morning I gave a critical listen to my own incessant inner
monolog for a brief tick of time.
The narrator's voice suffices for this sort of private presentation,
I guess. But I found that I'm
Not as accepting of the narrative. It ought to be more insightful,
the V.O. text could be tighter.
An editor would be beneficial, but maybe I should outsource
scriptwriting to a pro ghostwriter.

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Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/13/18


I don't know, maybe your experience is different from mine,
But when someone wants to give a piece of his or her mind,
It could be cathartic for that person, however, I tend to find
Little or no obvious evidence of any resultant peace of mind.

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It was just after twelve-thirty this morning when I went to bed.
And it was about four a.m. when I awoke with this in my head:


Brother Dave's Doggerel For The Day, 04/16/18


Why I did so, I do not know. But in randomly musing, I'd applied a little critical analysis to the age-old question "Which came first, the chicken or the egg?"
"The chicken" before the Boolean OR operator seems to reference the first chicken, not some recent involuntary donor of a KFC breast, thigh, wing, or leg.
I'd always assumed "the egg" referred to the first chicken egg, but parallel syntax and lack of an adjectival "chicken" qualifier don't support that assumption.
The first egg dates back 1.2-billion years to the origin of sex. Whereas, domestic chickens date back a mere few millennia — meat and eggs for human consumption.

Chicken Or Egg: The question does not specify a chicken egg, now does it?

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