Sic
Amazing Big Sic
Limerick Competition
When, centuries from now, the
definitive history of the limerick is written, the late 20th century will be
seen as a low point. Chroniclers will point their accusing bony fingers at the
Amazing Big Sic Limerick Competition and say -- heck, God knows what
theyll say, probably something like: That stuffs really
bad.
You think were kidding? Listen to this from Fr. Vern
Schueller of Niceville (no kidding):
There once was a column dubbed Sic Whose humor was audacious
and quick. When he had to hiatus for a while, His return was met with a
smile By all who thought his absence was caused by pique.
Or this from Marnie Miller, Omaha:
There once was a column called Sic. Its absence made all of
us sick, But since its return In hell we wont burn For reading
its infallible shtick.
* * *
One gratifying aspect of the
competition was the number of odes addressed to our humble self, for example
Patricia Feldhaus of Chico:
Dear Sic, I am glad you are back, For without you I felt
quite a lack. Your wit is insightful And downright delightful, With
words you sure do have a knack. Not to mention Barbara
Donahue of Pomona, who reached lyrical heights:
While reading my last NCR, And enjoying the paper so
far, Turned the page and saw Sic, My heart beat so quick. Sic, you
certainly still are my star.
* * *
Some strayed from Sics
favorite theme and wrote about reality. Paul Stubenbort of Bensalem:
In his nightmare saw old Cardinal Ratz Women priests as
they knelt on their mats. He woke from his dream. Women werent on
the team. They were sitting in pews wearing hats.
The ladies in hats were not glum. They knew that their time
would come. So when Ratz was old hat, Be it red and all that,
Then Pope Mary did let the church hum.
* * *
Don Metz of Spring Hill called his a
fractured limerick, which is an understatement:
The curia roared with invective When abortion was called
subjective. A bishop declared He wouldnt get mad As long as
its made retroactive.
* * *
Someone sent This Space two pages of
Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey, which we keep for rainy days. Odd Jack writes:
We tend to scoff at the beliefs of the ancients. But we cant scoff
at them personally, to their faces, which is what annoys me.
* * *
A clipping from The Messenger
of Covington was sent to This Space by Sr. Teresa Wolking of Villa Hills:
Paulist Press has published Benedictine Sr. Rita Brinks book,
Playing and Praying with God: Guided Medications for Children. As
Wolking says, What a pill to swallow.
* * *
The following came in from
cyberspace and are titled junk mail:
Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of
Congress. But I repeat myself (Mark Twain).
On one occasion a student burst into the office of Professor
Stigler and said, I dont deserve this F youve given me.
To which Stigler replied, I agree, but it is the lowest grade the
university will allow me to award.
The overwhelming majority of people have more than the average
(mean) number of legs (E. Grebenik).
Old Yiddish proverb: If triangles had a god, hed have
three sides.
Dont worry about temptation -- as you grow older, it starts
avoiding you (Old Farmers Almanac).
If we do happen to step on a mine, sir, what do we do?
the soldier asked. Normal procedure, Lieutenant, he was told,
is to jump 200 feet in the air and scatter oneself over a wide
area.
The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled
(Plutarch).
Sometimes I lie awake at night and I ask: Where have I gone
wrong? Then a voice says to me: This is going to take more than one
night (Charlie Brown).
The only difference between me and a madman is that I am not mad
(Salvador Dali).
Sacred cows make the best hamburger (Mark Twain).
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence or insanity to anyone,
but theyve always worked for me (Hunter S. Thompson).
* * *
Word about that sheep cloning in
Scotland has sent the known universe into a tailspin. Not since Galileo saw the
moon, or whatever, has there been such idle speculation, including Clare Will
Faulhaber of New Braintree, who hints darkly that the Vatican is in cahoots
with certain scientists to alleviate the priest shortage and fill
vacancies in the College of Cardinals without resorting to women. The
Vatican switchboard put her on hold to the strains of Hello
Dolly!
* * *
This Space hesitates to exhibit our
dirty laundry in public, but a secretive Sic is not a happy Sic. We refer of
course to our temporary demise some weeks ago, which, between ourselves, caused
a stir.
For example: Please make an executive decision and bring
back Sic, Barbara Newman wrote from Netherlands Antilles (so remote, she
sometimes receives up to 8 issues of NCR at a time) to you-know-who on
page 2. Such letters, we are happy to say, were typical. I cant
find it in my heart to forgive you for canceling Sic, wrote Priscilla
Piche from Arroyo Grande to the same party on page 2.
* * *
Sic or Inside NCR?
Surely you jest, writes a reader who wishes to remain anonymous. She was
referring to the allegedly haughty attitude of page 2 to This Space. I
went into clinical depression as a direct consequence of Sic
deprivation, she goes on.
* * *
And Flori Ignoffo of Columbia took a
poetic potshot at you- know-who:
Behind the scenes, know-it-all egghead Sent favorite Sic --
not sick -- to bed ...
The poetic quality of the limerick goes downhill after that. Even
Sic is sated with this artistry, so more of the same, including the
prizewinner, next time.
* * *
As everyone knows, Sics
neighbor, Luigi, far from being a regular guy, is an interloper from Deep
Space. If you dont believe this, look at his feet: three toes on each
foot like the Brother from Another Planet. But the real giveaway is the vacuum
cleaner strapped to his back, which he hopes to interface with a rusty toaster
to give himself liftoff back to the old galaxy some sunny day.
One might expect Luigi to be excited by recent NASA discoveries of
probable water on Jupiters moon Europa. The photos indicate cracks,
fissures and signs of volcanic activity, according to scientists -- see Sic
pic. But Luigi only furrows his alien brow and scoffs.
The scientists point to a thin ice crust covering either
liquid water or slush. Baloney, scoffs Luigi; anyone can see
its prune juice. The distinct railway lines at bottom left of the
picture, Luigi says, are, by an amazing coincidence, known on Europa as the
Acheson, Topeka and Santa Fe. The straggly lines across the pic are explained
by the high incidence of alcoholism on Europa: roads made by drunk
drivers over the millennia.
And if you look closely, Luigi says, you can see, at upper left, a
McDonalds. Down the block from Elvis house, he
explains.
No way, we say, aghast.
They have a saying on Europa, Luigi says,
Theres nothing new under the sun.
National Catholic Reporter, May 2, 1997
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