Humor: Best of Fortunes for Monday March 12, 2018

There once was a lady named Myrtle Who had an affair with...
There once was a lady named Myrtle Who had an affair with a turtle. She had crabs, so they say, In a year and a day Which proved that that turtle was fertile.

There once was a man from Bombay He would do it all night...
There once was a man from Bombay He would do it all night and all day He soon became sore You shoulda' heard him roar When his wife rubbed his balls with Ben-Gay!

There once was a man named McSweeny Who spilled lots of gin...
There once was a man named McSweeny Who spilled lots of gin on his weeney So just to be couth He added vermouth And slipped his best girl a martini.

There was a young fellow named Skinner Who took a young lady...
There was a young fellow named Skinner Who took a young lady to dinner At a quarter to nine, They sat down to dine, At twenty to ten it was in her. The dinner, not Skinner -- Skinner was in her before dinner. There was a young fellow...

There was a young fellow of Burma Whose betrothed had good...
There was a young fellow of Burma Whose betrothed had good reason to murmur. But now that he's married he's Been using cantharides And the root of their love is much firmer.

There was a young man from Siam Who said, "I go in with...
There was a young man from Siam Who said, "I go in with a wham, But I soon lose my starch Like the mad month of March, And the lion comes out like a lamb."

"An ounce of prevention is worth a ton of code." --...
"An ounce of prevention is worth a ton of code." -- an anonymous programmer

"Being against torture ought to be sort of a multipartisan...
"Being against torture ought to be sort of a multipartisan thing." -- Karl Lehenbauer, as amended by Jeff Daiell, a Libertarian

In the realm of scientific observation, luck is granted only...
In the realm of scientific observation, luck is granted only to those who are prepared. - Louis Pasteur

A little word of doubtful number, A foe to rest and peaceful...
A little word of doubtful number, A foe to rest and peaceful slumber. If you add an "s" to this, Great is the metamorphosis. Plural is plural now no more, And sweet what bitter was before. What am I?