Limericks limn the work of the Manassas mauler

MIKE ROYKO

November 12, 1993|By MIKE ROYKO

During lunch with several co-workers, one of them brought up a disgusting subject.

"I've written a limerick about that Bobbitt couple," he said. "Want to hear it?"

Despite my protests that it wasn't a fit topic for a lunch conversation, the others urged him to go on. So he recited his crude little poem:

Big John was a lad of great lust

Had a wife who was filled with distrust

One night while he slept

With a knife, in she crept

As a lover Big John's now a bust.

To my disappointment, everyone hooted and laughed. But news people are notoriously insensitive.

Even worse, they took out notebooks and began composing their own limericks and reading aloud. It was appalling. But I'm going to suppress my revulsion and pass some of them along to show how callous people can be about the misfortunes of others.

There once was a Bobbitt named John

Who thought he was quite the Don Juan

His wife disagreed

So the next time he wee'd

John couldn't locate his wand.

Isn't that loathsome?

Lorena wished John could be nicer

But he wasn't much of a de-icer

If she finds a new spouse

Let us hope he's no louse

Or we might have our first serial slicer.

Odious isn't a strong enough word to describe such inhumanity.

Big John Bobbitt might have been hipper

Had he kept his hot hands from his zipper

But to his wifey's dismay

Big John leaped to the fray

The results would have pleased Jack the Ripper.

Absolutely vile. But they refused to desist.

A surgeon was filled with great tension

Trying to sew on a thing we can't mention

He stitched and he sewed

Used all the skills that he knowed

But the wee thing won't stand at attention.

John Bobbitt was never a loner

In fact, he was known as a roamer

His wife seized his prize

And cut him to size

Now he is his own organ donor.

There was once a crime most venal

One might say 'twas inches from renal

It wasn't for sport

That she made him so short

Her intentions were nothing but penal.

I ask you: What ever happened to compassion?

The Bobbitt case sure is a dilly

Though it sounds a little bit silly

He said she's the hacker

Who lopped off his whacker

She said she was only trying to Free Willy.

Such low humor. In the future I will lunch alone.

There once was a man from Manassas

Who was fond of sleeping with lasses

His wife had enough

So she chopped off his stuff

Now let's see him try to make passes.

People at the next table chuckled. There are boors everywhere.

There once was a lady named Bobbitt

Who got so fed up that she lopped it

She said, "I'm sorry, honey,

But your conduct's not funny,"

And she very efficiently stopped it.

I don't know if I can go on. But I'll try.

There once was a place in Virginia

Where a gal snipped it off like a zinnia

She whipped back the sheets

Ignored his sad bleats

And attacked like a professional ninja.

Fortunately, the waiter was bringing the check.

John Bobbitt's detractors will scoff

For it seems the judgment's been soft

He's been retrofitted

And now he's acquitted

That's the last time he ever gets off.

Now, with dread, I await the mail. I know there are many sadists out there who will try their hands at the limerick form at poor Bobbitt's expense.

I should point out that most of the above trash was written by men. What ever happened to male bonding?

By the way, anybody got a good rhyme for "bonding"?

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