Definitely Limericks: Da-Dd
For a couple of years, D&D
Was no game, but a calling for me:
Rolling dice with ten sides,
Reading handbooks and guides,
And dispatching a kobold or three.
You’re a bit of a dag—kinda weird
An’ uncool—or so other kids sneered
Back in school. All those creeps
Were referring to sheep’s
Shit-encrusted rear ends. You were smeared!
Although the epithet does derive from the Aussie term for the dirty wool around a sheep’s backside, it’s often used affectionately.
Your trousers, once suitably baggy,
Are sadly misshapen and saggy.
Your out-of-date shirt
Caused a fashion alert.
The conclusion will hurt: mate, you’re daggy.
A Dakar driver’s jiving Miss Daisy
For calling his car-driving lazy:
“No Africa car
Driver strives in Dakar.”
All this punning could Senegal crazy.
What’s that metal thing, knobbly and squat?
“EX–TER–MIN–ATE!” Aaaargh, I’ve been shot!
Now my body’s dissolved.
There’s the mystery solved:
It’s a Dalek. Who could have forgot?
Aussie damper’s a rough sorta bread
Made by stockmen, although it’s been said
That some bushrangers, too,
Ate a hunk with their stew:
“Such is loaf”—the last words of our Ned.
She’s a safe and suburbanite stranger
To you, but I’d never exchange ’er.
Stop dissing my missus
As cookies and kisses—
Her byword in bed is still Danger.
I suppose I was mostly to blame
When I suddenly burst into flame.
One shouldn’t aspire
To sit near the fire
When Danger is one’s middle name.
If your nature is gloomy and darksome,
Be wary of those who are larksome.
The merry and gay
Have a maddening way
Of improving one’s day, which is narksome.
The ringmaster’s costume was dashy—
Designed to draw eyes with its splashy
And splendid display—
But not gaudy; no way
Would a flea-circus leader be flashy.
Malicious young swine! Getting plastered
On sacrament wine, when the pastor’d
Shown faith in supplying it,
And now you’re denying it?
Coward! My, my, what a dastard.
The digital tape known as DAT
Had its day, but today is old hat.
Though musicians were thrilled,
The home market was killed,
And so DAT, as they say, was soon that.
DAT could create perfect copies of digital sources at better-than-CD quality, making it a target for nervous record companies, but it remained popular within the recording industry throughout the 1990s.
I’m determined that sooner or later
She’ll deem me her number-one dater.
This dearly priced dinner
Denotes me as winner,
Unless she decamps with the waiter.
As a boy, I had only a brother,
So the girl I’ve known best is your mother;
But life has now taught her
That having a daughter
Means sharing my heart with another.
Though a beetle or ant may deny it,
A decibel sounds pretty quiet.
But a hundred or more
Will be shaking the floor,
LIKE AN ELEPHANT HERD IN A RIOT.
The decibel scale of sound intensity is logarithmic: 10 dB is ten times louder than 0 dB (the threshold of hearing), 20 dB is a hundred times louder, and so on. A whisper is 20 dB, normal conversation around 60 dB, and 100 dB is around the level of a large orchestra or rock concert.
The Digital Compact Cassette—
The (supposedly) best format yet—
Was an out-and-out flop.
Home recorders pressed Stop,
And fast-forwarded it to Forget.
The backwards-compatibility of DCC players with analog compact cassettes suggested that this competitor to MiniDisc and DAT would be a winner, but copy protection, data compression, and the inherent disadvantages of tape-based systems contributed to its failure.
You record, and you mix, and you master
In digital form, so you plaster
DDD on the label
Wherever you’re able,
So sales aren’t a d-d-disaster.
The three-letter SPARS codes on the labels of early CDs indicated whether the recording, mixing and mastering of the disc had been analog (A) or digital (D); all-digital productions were DDD.
DDT was a wonderful thing
For destruction of bugs on the wing,
But a fate worse than arson,
Said bird-watcher Carson,
Was bound to result: Silent Spring.