When Irish Scribes are Smiling
or, There Once was a Host from 200 Miles or Thereabouts to the West of Nantucket

Lads and lassies, we have a winner for the Curtis Earth Limerick Contest! Congratulations and 50 green ones go to the Gumbas for their entry:

The Gumbas are perfectly liable
To run from the sight of a Bible
But the creed of the Curtis
"Thou never shall blurt" is
a rule that's so sacred it's tribal.

We were going to give out honorable mentions, but there were just too many worthies! (Special kudos, however, go out to the Lethal Amoebas, who had 15 entries and caused the Webmikester to develop severe cramps in his typing fingers)

The limerick contest has past
The entries were witty and vast.
To all of your ranks
Our sincerest thanks
It really has been quite a blast!
(Now you know why staff members can't enter!)

Poets: the Assassins

The Assassins showed up ready to kill
Looking for someone to fit the bill
Don't be deceptive
We won't be selective
So pretend you're Lincoln and just sit still

Poet: Renee of the Directors

There once was a team of Directors
Fine women they were, and protectors
of women and kids.
They just kept them hid
from men and their silly erectors.

Poet: the Gumbas

The Gumbas are a terrific team
Four wins in a row is their dream
They come to the bar
In hopes they'll go far
But by Babaganoosh they are creamed.

Poet: the Gumbas

The Gumbas come out each Monday night
And they try hard with all of their might
You see in their eyes
They covet first prize
And put up one hell of a fight.

Poet: the Gumbas

The Team named the Gumbas is so neat
They each have a head and two feet
Just put 'em together
You'll never get better
Every week again you know they'll meet.

Poet: Brian McLaughlin of the Boozehounds

There once was a team called the Boozehounds
And man did they put their draft beer down
They hail from the Frogg
And most weeks they dog
But at Doc's they saved Curtis Earth's hair crown.

Poet: Ryan G. Miller (independent effort)

There once was a red beer named Killian's,
which filled & quenched the Irish million
The hangovers, there are none,
and the sh*ts they are fun,
As your feet barely touch the white porcelain

Judges' note: well, this one managed to break two of the three rules, but we're good sports, so we posted it anyway.

Poets: the Unity Team

The Unity Team knows no race,
We care not the hue of your face,
Black, yellow or white,
To us it's alright,
We beat Duh/Nuts and piss off Trace!

Poets: Chroma

There once was a team named Chroma
Who together had a great aroma
There's Renee and Dee
And Max makes three
And Jerry, who's always a roamin'

Poet: Adam Frederick of da Boozehounds

Black bra and panties make me feel nice
Although I have only worn them twice
One time for the game
And once just for shame
Felt like my "Boozehounds" were trapped in a vice

Poets: Jagged Bird

The jagged birds said, as they flew
to Tobias on 462
"Dave's pouring the beer
with absolute cheer
So come and get drunk with us too!"

Poets: Ian and Craig of the Holy Hand Grenades

The Holy Hand Grenades are flops.
They keep losing at tops.
Tiebreakers, you see,
Mean no victory,
For these poor sorry-assed sops.

Poets: Ian of the Holy Hand Grenades

The Army of Northern Virginia you see,
Is not lead by General Lee.
They don't live in Dixie,
And that is a pity.
Like Grant we'll deny them victory.

Poet: Anonymous

The shirts he wears are polo
which explains why he is solo.
No Valentine
could change her mind,
and so, it's still a no-go.

Poet: Tim Hanna of the Booze Hounds

There once was a player named Adam,
Who, the answers, he never had'em.
With help from his team,
"The Booze Hounds," it'd seem,
Like they wouldn't ever win without him.

Poet: Tony Roda of Team Shot in the Dark

Five idiots came to the bar on a whim
Some people thought they were dumb as gin
But compared to the rest
"Shot in the Dark" was the best
and the others murmured "How did they win?"

Poets: the Bar Rats

There once was a team called the Bar Rats
Who all were a bunch of kool kats
Their captain was Pete
Who would not admit defeat
Unless they had too many Labatts.

Poet: Caitlin of the Free Drink Whores

There once were two ladies who thought
Their knowledge could earn them more shots.
"We're motivated to think,
By our love of free drinks,
For we are the mighty Free Drink Whores."

Poet for the following six limericks: Lauren Edelstein of the Lethal Amoebas

amoebas are pacifists by nature
living lives all pious and pure
'though we try being discreet
know we're all packing heat
else we wouldn't be lethal no more.

it's a fact all scientists know
feed amoebas beer, they will grow
tho it might make 'em smart
stay away when they fart
"lethal" 's the way that they blow.

as amoebas we all share one brain
which can, at times, be a pain
sometimes we fight
from the left brain to right
but always give in to lorraine.

we travel from near and from far
to trivialize in a bar
through round 3 we baffle
awaiting the raffle
hoping one day it might be a car.

many answers we may not agree
with curtis' finality
we battle, we curse
we take turns for the worst
to be stifled by a stupid stuffed monkey.
(Mr. Shifferstein read that one with mute horror.)

making trivia, for me lately, has been rare
i always wish i that could be there
but i have to make do
with a progress report or two
and emails from curtis' hair.

Poet for the following 9 limericks: Jay of the Lethal Amoebas

Lethal amoebas were born in a bar,
To strike fear in competitors' hearts near and far,
At times they've scored high,
At times they just sigh,
Contemplating Curtis in feathers and tar.

An amoeboid spot on the tabletop,
A brew made from barley and hops,
A couple's quirky personality,
And a show on ammo lethality
Combine them to win, instead of trivia, the lethal amoebas play battling tops

Curtis says it can't be done,
But the lethal amoebas say it will just for fun,
This summer you will thrill,
To see Tobias S. Frogg's fill,
With an amoeboid team of just one less than 1 hun (dred)

My poetry normally runs to free verse,
This certainly is worse,
My last limerick involved a man from Nantucket,
So to Curtis this poem you just may want to chuck it,
But if you don't print this to you I'll say a typical 4-letter curse.

To find something to rhyme with lethal amoeba,
I called the folks at Toshiba,
They suggested I try a thesaurus,
To which my teammates cheered in chorus,
We're going to the trivia hall of fame in Lake Geneva

Her hubby said we gave him the creep
So we kicked his butt until he began to weep
And that's how Bathsheba
Became a lethal amoeba
And left Old Uriah in a heap

Most would think that it sprang from salina,
Of course we speak of the lethal amoeba,
But we aren't from a salt marsh,
An environment much too harsh,
We'll stick to the bars and trivia arena

This shows you the story of my life,
And how it is filled with such strife,
Writing limericks about lethal amoebas,
And fictional teammates named Bathesheba,
Which is why Lorraine still is not my wife

The limerick gig was fun,
But now I must run,
For the lethal amoebas are always prompt,
Once again their opponents must be stomped,
Provided there are no questions regarding an unearned run

Poet: A. Nonymous

There once was a team dressed in Goretex
Who called themselves "Out of the Vortex"
The smart one is Marge,
The other one's large-
ly seen hurting his cerebral cortex.