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The late Saturday night, toked-up rhyming session

June 09, 2003 ~ 1:58 p.m.

It was getting on 11 p.m. in Amsterdam Saturday night, and all three of us were in our beds. The ladies had their heads on their pillows, but I was propped up, smoking hash. We just started making up silly little rhymes, especially praying on the stereotypes of nations:

For instance, some of the better ones included:

�I could be a Yank and have money in the bank.�

�I could be a limey and say, �Cor blimey.��

�I could be an Aussie and not wear a cozzy.� (A cozzy is a swimsuit.)

�I could be a Canuck and be shit outta luck.�

The funniest one of all, the one that had us in fits, was this:

�I could be a Kraut and order you out.�

My wife then tried, �I could be a Swede �,� and while the two of us racked our brains for a suitable rhyme, it was Jo, whom I thought had fallen asleep by this stage, who finished it:

�I could be a Swede and say �gimme some weed.�� That also had us in fits.

Funnily enough, we just couldn�t come up with a good slur against the French no matter how we tried. We tried, �I could be a Frog and do a great log,� but it sounded too juvenile and didn�t elicit many laughs.

Ah, come to think of it, it was all juvenile.

� M.E.M.

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