Another batch of comments. Again, nothing organized, just collected.

First, when PZ came back from the Amazing Meeting, he decided he needed to wear a hat…

While the women all adore a
Man who’s sporting a fedora
There are men who look like idiots with something on their head

Not a porkpie, fez or turban
Whether rural wear or urban
Is the sort of thing I picture looking stylish on P-Zed

When he put on a souwester,
Why, his hair began to fester
And he had to reconsider why that’s something that he did

But if I could write a sonnet
To suggest his sort of bonnet
I am thinking, on his head should perch some stylish sort of squid.

Regarding a charming little animated short, showing the trials and tribulations of a pair of octopi and their pursuer, a Chef, as they are chased through a seaside Greek villa…

When the chips are all counted, when everything’s done,
When push, they say, comes to shove,
I’d wager against the return of the sun
Ere a cephalopod who’s in love.
When the wagering comes to affairs of the heart
(where a cuttlefish, reader, has three)
Then a cephalopod has a boost from the start
(well, at least, it appears so to me.)
Now an octopus (mutant, with only six arms)
Fights for love–for a life lived in peace;
And a cephalopod can find magical charms
When it finds it’s in love and in Greece.

I honestly don’t remember anything about this one, other than the the post spoke of “Dr. Who meets Dr. Seuss”. Maybe that’s enough…

If you see Bob, or Sue, or Alex
Tell them to avoid the Daleks
They do not like; they only hate,
And always yell “Exterminate!”
A Dalek kills
It kills for thrills
In Dalek dales and Dalek hills
And here’s some news
They hate the Whos
Whichever Doctor you may choose!
From then to now, from now to then,
Doctor Who is everywhen!

I tend not to collect my limericks–too many of them, you see. But this trio followed PZed’s admission that he was “oozing slime and fluids like a mollusc”… as if that were a bad thing… and his revelation that he is scheduled for one of the exams people generally don’t like being subjected to…

There once was a blogger named Myers
Who confessed that among his desires
Was a peek up his ass
With an brass looking-glass
And an old pair of needle-nosed pliers.

A colonoscopic exam
Is a good way to show who you am
You can lie there and take it
Or take drugs and fake it
By muttering softly “goddamn”

Just back from a trip to Galapagos
P-Zed is now oozing, non-stopagos
That won’t stop his blogging–
He just keeps on slogging–
Complaining with each little dropagos

And lastly (for volume 2), a couplet. It really could comment on so many topics, but I don’t recall which it actually did comment on.

Wherever two or more of you are gathered in His Name
The odds will rise, the exercise is one of casting blame.