Lollipop has a long history of making fun of stupid people, stupid trends, over-hyped movies, TV shows, bands, and anything else we see.
There’s no end to the things you can make fun of if you can stop giggling long enough to scribble a one-liner on one of the shut-off notices lying around. That’s what they’re there for.
This column used to be called Garbage Pail. The title stunk, but the contents didn’t. It was a “catch all” for random weirdness scribbled on bar napkins and pizza boxes. It was also an excuse to commission illustrations that, let’s face it, would never exist otherwise.
Mental Shrapnel is a collection of the the weird mental connections you make and riff on with your friends and laugh until you pee.
Email a Top Ten list, pitch sitcom plots we’ll never see, ponder what classic movies would’ve been like if Ashton Kutcher stared in them, whatever.
Do your friends think you’re a riot? Well, that’s why they’re your friends. Send in your brain farts anyway.
by Lex Marburger
Goth Limericks and Emo Haiku
The stereotype of the brooding Goth Cutter has been replaced by the brooding, whiney Emo Boy Cutter. In the spirit of this cultural paradigm shift, I offer you Goth Limericks and Emo Haiku.
Roses are black,
Violets are dark and doom-ridden,
Sugar is a conformist thing,
And so are you.
There once was a Goth called Leo
Who dressed all in black just like “Neo”
Couldn’t score with the chicks
Likes slitting his wrists and
Filling Live Journal with EMO.
This kid got tired of Hanson,
So he picked up some Marilyn Manson
He dressed all in black,
and melanin he lacked
No, he’s not epileptic, he’s dancin’.
A Goth kid, all spooky and dark,
was often heard to remark,
“if the truth be told,
“this scene is quite old,
“It’s beginning to look like a theme park!”
I sit in the dark
Oh, how I love Linkin Park!
See my knife, glinting.
[note: neither Haiku nor Limerick, but what the hell]
Oh, aching heart!
How can Life impart such horrid circumstances upon one soul?
Abandoned, left alone, cast aside,
I can no longer sense her tragic presence,
And since mom shut off my broadband access,
I can’t even jerk off to The Crow slash fiction.