During lunch with several co-workers, one of them brought up a disgusting
"I've written a limerick about that Bobbitt couple," he said. "Want to hear
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:
To my disappointment, everyone hooted and laughed. But news people are
- 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.
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.
Isn't that loathsome?
- 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.
Odious isn't a strong enough word to describe such inhumanity.
- 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
Absolutely vile. But they refused to desist.
- 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.
I ask you: What ever happened to compassion?
- 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.
Such low humor. In the future I will lunch alone.
- 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.
People at the next table chuckled. There are boors everywhere.
- 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.
I don't know if I can go on. But I'll try.
- 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.
Fortunately, the waiter was bringing the check.
- 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.
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
- 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.
And, the very next day: To my disgust, the fax machine began humming early in
the morning, spewing out terrible limericks about the Bobbitts. Being a
highly sensitive and politically correct person, my conscience tells me to run
them through the paper shredder. But I suppose they can be of some value to
psychologists, sociologists and others who study the workings of the sadistic
mind. So I will stifle my better instincts and pass them along as a service
to scholars. One of the first to arrive was the work of Chicagoan Paul
Kevin Theis was man enough to express some remorse, saying: "I plead guilty
to the same vileness as your lunch companions. God help me but they just
popped into my head." And he wrote three of them.
- When drinking in full regalia
- Sometimes your memory will fail ya'
- But John B. woke up thinking
- I really must have been drinking
- I have misplaced my genitalia.
Without any pangs of remorse, Jim Schaefer, of Mt. Prospect, Ill., offered
this to the world:
- Sweet Lorena did not use precision
- The darkness, she said, hindered vision
- She jumped on the divan
- And gave husband John
- An un-volunteered circumcision.
- Big John B. was a creep, don't ya' know,
- Whose wife gave him a horrible blow
- Now the people he meets
- As he walks down the streets
- Say, "John Bobbitt? That old sew-and-sew."
- "This case," said the cops, "sure does pickle us
- "Searching for this man's thing does not tickle us
- "It was somewhere 'round here
- "That she threw this man's gear
- "But to us the whole thing is ri-dick-ulus."
The next one came from Lake Forest, Ill. The author used only the initials A.
H. Such modesty. Or maybe shame.
- A much-abused lady named Bobbitt
- Said unto her husband, please stop it
- Or I'll draw my stiletto
- And chop down your palmetto
- And see just how far I can lob it.
Peter Kendall, a journalist, made two offerings. He will have to live with
- His technique, oh boy, it was brutal
- To retrain him, she knew, would be futile
- So she aimed for the tip
- But the blade it did slip
- And cut off the whole kit and caboodle
A guy named Harold, who sounded like he was drinking his lunch, called and
said: "I wrote a couple, but I don't have a fax and the mail takes too long.
Can I just read them to you?" And he did:
- Now you know that it had to sting
- But no curses did poor Johnny sing
- He was quite relaxed
- When his manhood was axed
- Guess it wasn't that big of a thing
- John Bobbitt was a bit too cocky
- And his marriage grew ever more rocky
- Now it's true, I swear,
- That in terms of underwear
- He wears stitches, not boxers or jockeys.
Pausing only to take another swallow, he went on:
- A fellow named John went out drinking
- When he finally got home he was thinking
- He would give his sweet wife
- The big thrill of her life
- Alas, the means to this end was soon shrinking.
"OK?" Harold said. "What 'ya think? Not bad, huh? I never wrote limericks
before." I wished him a happy lunch.
- It's not sinful to hit a few bars
- And to drink beer 'til the pre-dawn hours
- But he lurched to his bed
- With sheer lust in his head
- Now when he meets a new gal he just cowers.
The next contribution was faxed from George, who said: "Don't use my full
name. My wife takes this thing seriously and we haven't been getting along.
I don't want to be next."
And from Larry Meekma in Oak Lawn, Ill., we have this:
- They're making plans in movie-land
- For a film about Lorena's sleight-of-hand
- Whether it's funny or sad
- One thing makes me glad
- I don't have to be Bobbitt's stunt man.
I will end it with this anonymous contribution:
- The legend of Bobbitt is growing
- It's a story well worth the knowing
- He offended his wife
- So she took up her knife
- And put an end to his coming and going.
To which I must respond:
- This story is just so much flotsam
- Appealing to those who are rotten
- I know that don't rhyme
- But I don't have the time
- As a journalist you have hit bottom.
- I'll admit that I wasn't too keen
- About dwelling on a topic so mean
- But do I really havta
- Write about NAFTA
- When the nation is obsessed by John's wien?