Previous generations developed the “Whoopee Cushion,” predicated upon embarrassing others by producing the sound of flatulence when the cushion was sat upon. Contemporary devices are portable, and are meant to be set off by the jokester him/herself, thereby making him/her the butt, so to speak, of his/her own practical joke.
There's a thesis for a research paper on societal acceptance of flatulence, possibly all bodily functions, lurking in there somewhere, but one would most likely have to use it to wipe up after all the research.
As this is a writing site, GingerKitty, I like to post something every now and then which requires literacy.
And I'm not a Mr. I'm a The.
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
If you won't take my flowers,
I'll just chew on my bone.
Somewhere the shade of Rube Goldberg is smiling.
Picking just ten is a problem, but chronologically:
A Night at the Opera - Marx Brothers (1935)
Ball of Fire - Barbara Stanwyck & Gary Cooper (1941)
Kiss Them for Me - Cary Grant & Jayne Mansfield (1957)
Some Like It Hot - Marilyn Monroe, Tony Curtis & Jack Lemmon (1959)
Dr. Strangelove - Peter Sellers & George C. Scott (1964)
A New Leaf - Walter Matthau & Elaine May (1971)
Silver Streak - Gene Wilder, Jill Clayburgh & Richard Pryor (1976)
Uncle Buck - John Candy & Macaulay Culkin (1989)
Groundhog Day - Bill Murray & Andie MacDowell (1993)
Idiocracy - Luke Wilson & Maya Rudolph (2006)
Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
The garden is frozen.
No flowers for you.
EllaFitz points out one problem with historical figures. Another would be that we only know of their personal lives what they, their supporters, or their enemies left behind in reports, and precious little of that can be depended upon as truthful.
Nonetheless, I think I should have enjoyed having a go at Good Queen Bess — I mean before Elizabeth became a professional virgin, lost her hair and all that. I like strong-willed women, even if they are a little hot at hand. H o w e v e r, I should also require a handy egress, as I don’t think I should have enjoyed being bunged up in the Tower of London, over much.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Gardenia’s are edible
And so are you.
Variation on a Theme by Trinket
Rose are shut the fuck up,
Violets are fuck the shut up,
Fuck up the shut.
Shut fuck the up.
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
We won’t go to bed.
‘Cause you don’t need the flu.
Roses are red
Mashugana flowers.
I gave her a dozen
And she came for hours.
I DOUBLE POSTED, BUT I'M TRYING TO KEEP IT A SECRET
A rose is a rose,
Queen Anne’s Lace, wild carrot.
If I were a poet
I’d stave in a garret.
