… Sonata for Cello and Piano, a British scientist announced, a few years ago, a new syndrome called Cello Scrotum, in which the pressing of the instrument against the male instrumentalist promoted scrotal decomposition.
Her work on the condition was written up in a major medical journal, and for years has been cited respectfully.
She has now admitted that it was a hoax.
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Update: Two limericks thus far. The first is by Dave.
“My cello’s degrading my scrotum,”
Said Rostropovich unto his factotum.
“Yo-Yo Ma’s yo-yo
Has withered in toto,
Yet science refuses to note ‘em.”
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The second is by University Diaries:
Ever since I contracted c. scrotum
My f-hole’s become a mere totem.
Only thing I can play
Is Auber’s Bal Masqué.
I’ll have to begin to regrow them.
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UPDATE: More scrotum-tightening verse.
From Eric:
There once was a cellist named Zack,
Alarmed about losing his sac.
After vigorous chokehold,
He knew he’d been Sokaled,
So spicattoed and bowed his groove back.
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From Dave:
Brahms lost his to a misapplied flute.
Gonorrhea shrank Mahler’s, to boot.
I’m blaming my cello
For the sickly and yellow
State of my forbidden fruit.
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From Melanie:
A scrupulous cellist named Krupp
Bought a rockstop that came with a cup.
When asked, “Why the addition?”
He cited physicians
And said, “So my endpin stays up.”
January 28th, 2009 at 3:11PM
I smell another of UD’s headline contests…
January 28th, 2009 at 3:20PM
As the Beeb’s article notes, anyone who knows how a ‘cello is played would find this highly implausible.
January 28th, 2009 at 3:33PM
"My cello’s degrading my scrotum,"
said Rostropovitch unto his factotum.
"Yo-Yo Ma’s yo-yo
Has withered in toto,
Yet science refuses to note ’em."
January 28th, 2009 at 3:35PM
I know a challenge when I see one, Dave. Hold on a minute.
January 28th, 2009 at 3:37PM
And I THOUGHT of yo-yo, I assure you. I rejected it as, you know, too vulgar…
January 28th, 2009 at 3:46PM
Backward glans on the other hand…
January 28th, 2009 at 4:01PM
And there was a vas deferens between the cellist’s bridge and the timpanist’s fleshhoop.
January 28th, 2009 at 4:04PM
that ‘in toto’ is fine fine fine!
January 28th, 2009 at 4:16PM
Ever since I contracted c. scrotum
My f-hole’s become a mere totem.
Only thing I can play
Is Auber’s Bal Masque.
I’ll have to begin to regrow them.
January 28th, 2009 at 5:08PM
With apologies to Edward Lear, Terry McMillan, the Man from Nantucket, and cellists everywhere:
There once was a cellist named Zack,
alarmed about losing his sac,
after a vigorous chokehold,
he knew he’d been Sokaled,
so spicattoed and bowed his groove back.
January 28th, 2009 at 5:48PM
Can you tell I’m putting off grading?
Brahms lost his to a misapplied flute.
Gonorrhea shrank Mahler’s, to boot.
I’m blaming my cello
For the sickly and yellow
State of my forbidden fruit.
January 29th, 2009 at 5:27PM
Limericks are hard! Here’s one:
A scrupulous cellist named Krupp
Bought a rockstop that came with a cup.
When asked, "Why the addition?"
he cited physicians
and said, "So my endpin stays up."
January 29th, 2009 at 6:50PM
Melanie: Wonderful!
January 30th, 2009 at 4:58PM
A bit late, but here’s another:
An inscrutable cellist from Little Rock
loved to play preludes (J.S. Bach).
His wife? She had fits
from the touch of his pizz.
And his metronome-rhythmical tik-tok.