Sometimes you just have to be direct and to the point:
If you turn around and you claim
that the Broncos must play in a game
now twice in five days
then you'd want no delays
in maiming Phil Rivers to shame.
Not quite obscene, but it gets the job done.
Sorry, folks. I almost forgot this week's limerick. Here you go:
I've got nothing to say with my wit
except that the Titans will quit
by the third quarter's end
when records will bend
and Munchak will drown in his $hit.
Let it fly, Broncos fans!
Good morning, Broncos fans! Another big game. Another Chiefs loss:
The rematch was just two weeks away
for the ketchup and mustard to play.
The results are the same
with their conservative game,
and the loss of Reid's balls in the fray.
Let loose with your version--with or without balls.
Happy Game Day, Broncos fans. Time again to break out something completely obscene:
If you're pondering Belichick's class
then you ought to consider a pass
on the shaking of hands
when he's losing the fans
and the score is shoved up his ass.
Sorry, I tried, but I just couldn't get McDaniels to rhyme with tiny Napoleon. See if you can.
If Alexis Smith was a man with some balls
he would stop with the junk checkdown calls,
but he's not, so he sucks,
so it goes that his ducks
force the Chiefs to puke in the stalls.
It's getting close to game time. Throw your limerick down, Broncos fans!
One of our long-time readers, Alaskan, reminded me that I have a responsibility--nay, a duty--to post the most obscene gameday limericks possible.
It's a tradition we started long ago here at IAOFM; it's high time I held up my end of the bargain:
All of this fake girlfriend stuff really has me worked up. The only cure?
If the girl that you love is a con
on the web from a dude name of Ron,
you should know it's a shame
to attend Notre Dame
and expect cyber hummers, Don Juan.
Give it your best, and always remember, a limerick isn't a limerick unless it's crude, rude, and it mocks Notre Dame (or Vic Lombardi, Notre Dame grad).
It's the playoffs in Denver--Limericks, at altitude:
In the cold there's a game on this day
where the Broncos keep the Ravens at bay.
It won't take but a drive
for the Broncos to thrive
and flat crush the slow birds on the way.
Sorry to get to this a little later than I would like, but as always, take your own shot.
A lot of things happen when you get on a winning streak. One of those things is that you forget your responsibilities--namely, a game-day limerick.
So here goes (in pure-form anapests):
It's the last of the games of the year
for the AFC West to revere
the appeal of the pass
and a hoof up their ass:
it is Manning and Denver to fear.
Thanks to my boy Alaskan for reminding me of my responsibilities. Feel free to give it your own shot (anapestic or not) below. Just remember, crude and lewd is quite shrewd, dude.
Without the Broncos to watch on Sunday, I'm forced to attend church, clean out the garage--just kidding. I have two advanced degrees, the recession hasn't touched me, and I'm one of the 53%. So I just hire that stuff out, y'all.
Which brings me to my real point--limericks. Feel free to have a whack at life without the Broncos on Sunday. Here's what I did with my left hand (my right hand was otherwise occupied after watching reruns of Baywatch). You see, 53% of us can multitask.
Sunday Cruddy Sunday
On a day like today I would say
there's nothing in this life as the play
of the Broncos on high
with a Manning so spry
that a Denver rerun is as gay¹