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Beetles Dance on Poop Balls to Keep Cool
(Thanks to Unholy Slacker)
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Beetles Dance on Poop Balls to Keep Cool
(Thanks to Unholy Slacker)
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Interviewer: So what was your last job?
Applicant: I watched beetles roll balls of s!!t around.
Interviewer: You're perfect for marketing. You're hired!!
Posted by: Phil | October 22, 2012 at 07:44 PM
Is that how Gangnam Style originated?
Posted by: Ralph | October 22, 2012 at 07:51 PM
"...They're bringing sexy back..."
Posted by: Ms. Flukey | October 22, 2012 at 08:25 PM
Rubber boots? OK ...
So ... a dung beetle walks into a shoe store & the clerk sez, "May I help you?"
Beetle (not Bailey) sez, "Yeah, I'd like three pairs of boots in a 0.003 size, 0.000000A width ..."
Posted by: O the Umanity | October 22, 2012 at 08:48 PM
A new science lesson from Dave. Good to know that those poop balls are useful.
Posted by: Theresa | October 22, 2012 at 09:36 PM
Heeeey, Macarena !
Posted by: Clankie | October 22, 2012 at 10:11 PM
So that's what keeps Paul McCartney looking so young.
Posted by: HogsAteMySister | October 22, 2012 at 10:13 PM
My thoughts exactly Hogs.
Posted by: nursecindy | October 22, 2012 at 10:27 PM
"ELEGY WRITTEN IN
A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD"
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
(There are 32 more stanzas; I'm pretty sure you could fit the headline in there somewhere. Metrically it's a shoo-in.)
Posted by: Betsy | October 22, 2012 at 11:27 PM
Beetles dance on poop balls to keep cool
The lowing herd has dropped its processed grass
The ploughman cares not where he steps, the fool
And therefore stomps the beetles' foetid mass.
Posted by: Ralph | October 23, 2012 at 01:16 AM
(applauds betsy & ralph, who stuck his shoo-in...)
"There is really nothing else I'd rather do
'Cause I'm happy just to dance with poo"
Posted by: ligirl | October 23, 2012 at 01:58 AM
And when you've finished dancing you can do some cooking.
Posted by: Jan in Grimsby | October 23, 2012 at 08:16 AM
Ralph...dude! Very nice catch!
Posted by: Betsy | October 23, 2012 at 09:02 AM
Gray's Elegy is not, I have to admit, the first thing that came to mind, but well done, all. The Dave Barry spoon for English Literature goes to ... Do not panic! The building is surrounded. I am the Bishop of East Anglia.
Posted by: Omniskeptic | October 23, 2012 at 09:19 AM
Um, maybe he just feels a LOT BETTER.
Posted by: Steve | October 23, 2012 at 09:56 AM
Shudder. Had to learn and recite the whole thing for English Lit. class when I was 12-ish. Love it now. Not so much then.
Posted by: Jan in Grimsby | October 23, 2012 at 10:57 AM
Omni...You make a good point. I disclaim all responsibility for my mental associations; they're obviously completely random, and probably unhealthy.
Posted by: Betsy | October 23, 2012 at 11:40 AM
When I was a lad, I had to learn Blake's The Tiger and it probably sent me down a lifelong path of fond if wary enthusiasm for English poets and poetry that rhymes.
Posted by: Omniskeptic | October 23, 2012 at 12:23 PM
Betsy. Welcome to the club. 'Ode to Autumn'. Discuss.
Posted by: Jan in Grimsby | October 23, 2012 at 12:35 PM
When I read the headline, English Lit may not have been last on the list of topics I expected the thread to go, but it was way down on the list. Just goes to show you that this blog is an excellent source of culture, no matter what others say.
Posted by: JD | October 23, 2012 at 06:46 PM
Then again, I was trying to make it into a limerick.
Posted by: JD | October 23, 2012 at 06:48 PM
Poop to Keats. No telling where this blog's gonna take you JD. Life's just one big adventure.
Posted by: Jan in Grimsby | October 23, 2012 at 06:55 PM
Jan...
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And beetles cool down, dancing on the poo.
Posted by: Betsy | October 23, 2012 at 09:11 PM
The boy stood on the burning deck,
His body all aquiver.
He gave a cough, his leg fell off,
And floated down the river.
Posted by: Jan in Grimsby | October 24, 2012 at 07:51 AM
Now THAT'S poetry!!!
Posted by: Betsy | October 24, 2012 at 10:41 AM
Dover Beach by Ol' Matt Arnold - don't get much better than that.
Posted by: Omniskeptic | October 24, 2012 at 05:09 PM