British ex-Pat Emma [Who inexplicably left London for Baltimore. Baltimore. ?!?] invited me to enter her Spectacular Easter Limerick Competition. It’s no joke. The prize is a smooth, creamy, deluxe chocolate egg from Hotel Chocolat. I’m posting my entries here. If I don’t win the damn egg, at least I’ll have gotten a blog post out of it.
There once was a prophet named Christ.
On a cross he was soon sacrificed.
Will he come back
From being whacked
As a man or a poltergeist?
And in case that wasn’t offensive enough:
Hung on a cross by decree,
Romans pounded the nails in with glee.
Well, that really sucks.
I loaned him five bucks!
First resurrect, then repay me.
Happy Easter, Christian soldiers.
“That’s all you got. You got love and you got death. Death will find you…it’s up to you to find love. That’s where most people fall down at. Death got room for everybody. Love pick and choose. Now, most people won’t admit that. That’s cause love cost. Love got a price to it. Everybody don’t want to pay. They put it on credit. Time it come due, they got it on credit somewhere else. That’s what I learned all these years.”
Two Trains Running
Perhaps it’s because I heard those lines spoken by an accomplished actor who embraced the role. Simply reading them might not have the same impact. August Wilson was a fucking genius. He wrote a 10-play cycle, one for each decade of the 20th century, all centered on the black experience and all taking place in the same Pittsburgh neighborhood. And every one of them is great literature. Man, I’ll never write that well. It’s depressing. And I don’t mean metaphorically.