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09/13/25   
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The Insomnia of Ransom Ripple

by Ulysses P. Crackbutter
bio/email
September 29, 2003
Ransom Ripple's twisted nipples
kept him from his sleep.
The night was long,
as Ransom's thong
straight up his ass would creep.

An incessant dripping
at his ears was nipping,
as it echoed from the sink.
"This noisy room
will be my doom!"
was all that he could think.

The words to a song,
like a clanging gong,
rang and jiggled his brain.
"This tune will be
the death of me!"
he was heard to complain.

He counted sheep,
then counted Jeep,
then counted jellybeans.
But then he remembered
once being dismembered…
"I wonder what that means?"

Ransom Ripple's toe was crippled
and he had to pee.
His nose did whistle
like an incoming missile,
And he thought "God please kill me!"

But just when he'd conceded
that he'd get no sleep that he needed,
and resigned himself to silently weep…
the strangest thing happened.

He dropped off into a nap and
dreamt that he couldn't fall asleep.


Quote of the Day
“I got the blues so bad. Real bad. You know what I'm talkin' about? Uh-huh. No fun. Bluesy blues. Well, that's about all I got to say about that. Song's another four minutes long though. Soooo… Any of y'all from Cleveland?”

-Ugly Carmichael
Fortune 500 Cookie
You will get kicked in the balls for a good cause this week. Expect a telephone call from a long forgotten friend today—your split personality from Belgium. Lose the mustache, that "Hitler" look is so 1997. This week's stomach-pump jackpot: $20 in loose change, long-lost stash, grandma's favorite knitting needles, Nerds.


Try again later.
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