“A lowly Scottish soccer club, which once had ‘James Bond’ actor Sean Connery on its books, has been given a six-point deduction for having a sloping field.” —US News and World Report
To the Scottish Professional Football League
Dear Sirs, The fans in Bonnyrigg
were feeling proud and thinking big, till you unjustly stripped away points fairly earned in honest play. No football team should ever yield its right to use a slanted field: remember that both sides defend for half the game at either end. The time I spent at Gordonstoun taught me to take the up-and-down; we teenage boys soon learned to cope with all varieties of slope. We soldiered on, and took our lumps on pitches that were full of bumps. We played on when the goals would flood, when footballs would be lost in mud, we played through hail, we played through snow, we played where milksops feared to go. All brawny Scotsmen should oppose this treatment of the Bonny Rose. Your Bonny Prince, I must respond to save the heritage of Bond. Your mollycoddling’s absurd— I countermand it! Charles the Third
“Justin Welby’s resignation as Archbishop of Canterbury was necessary to ‘change the face’ of how the Church of England tackles abuse, senior colleagues have said.” —The Times
Lord, you know I’m pledged to thee, But why on earth did thou choose me To be the shepherd of thy flock, Then give them the almighty shock Of finding one they thought divine Was just a man without a spine?
That evil wins when men do naught Is something I had long forgot, As through the years your mills ground slow. But now I’m dust and have to go. It looks like justice, I suppose. But will it change a thing? God knows.
“Human rights groups… [say] there has been a recent spate of arrests, forced disappearances and the shuttering of businesses linked to perceived breaches of the hijab laws.” —The Guardian
Iran jails women who refuse hijabs. Oh women of America, rejoice! You only have a President who grabs, And bodies which are Nick Fuentes’ choice.
“A fight is under way to allow Saint-Flour Cathedral… to continue having premium hams dry as they hang from beams in its 135-metre-high tower” —Church Times
Please, cultural affairs committee, Bestow a modicum of pity On our crucial, but petite Commercial venture curing meat.
After all, it wasn’t smoked Charcuterie that once provoked Our Lord and Savior’s fit of rage On that ecclesiastic stage!
So when discussing our appeal, Perhaps you’ll gather for a meal. Before you vote to shut us down, Will that be Grey Poupon, or brown?
So Mitch steps down. Let’s give the man his due: He never failed to recognize a cue. Grey Eminences bow their heads, inspired; Because of him, no judges will be hired For decades with the faintest tinge of blue.
You think the party’s been made over new? Mitch sowed the seeds and watched them as they grew. No Garlands for the Court! He’s justly tired, So Mitch steps down.
They’re all his progeny, the happy crew
Grabbing both houses and the White one too;
He must be proud to see what he has sired: His vote saved Donald Trump from being fired! There’s really nothing left for him to do,
So Mitch steps down.
“Trump allies say Project 2025 is on as Heritage affiliates vie for cabinet posts” —The Guardian
“Now that the election is over I think we can finally say that yeah actually Project 2025 is the agenda. Lol.” —Matt Walsh, on X
Now say goodbye to rights and stuff you like— Our candidate pulled off the perfect “Psych!“ No question Trump’s about to do our bidding. “What’s Project 25?” he said. “Just kidding!“
“Italian officials said they had dismantled a Europe-wide network of forgers and dealers selling works purported to be by A-list artists, mostly through auction houses.” … The carabinieri named the case “Operation Caryatid” —The New York Times
Don’t tumble for talented twisters! This year, unashamed criminali Have forged some artistic A-listers, Including both Banksy and Dali.
Collectors were sadly unwary, Till somebody slipped up or ratted, And handed the Carabinieri The triumph they call “Caryatid.”
“I’m straight up just saying, we should not have women in combat roles. . . [M]en in those positions are more capable.” —Pete Hegseth, prospective Secretary of Defense
I am the very model of a master of the Pentagon. The war on wokeness is the vital mission I am bent upon. You’ll see me put the kibosh on inclusion and diversity, Insinuating they amount to sexual perversity. In warriors that I command, there is no place for estrogen. Give me a fighting force composed exclusively of manly men. I was a TV talking head who earned a mega-MAGA name. The skills I need to run a war machine are pretty much the same. I fawn upon the tweeter other savvy pols have fawned upon. I am the very model of a master of the Pentagon.
“Crowds flock to quiet street to spot rare bird” —BBC
Shelf, miles from North America, is where Committed British twitchers flocked to catch A sighting, as a songbird that is rare Reviewed its options on its foreign patch: Look here for mates—for other refugees Escaping Trump’s US? Risk flying back, To somewhere south of Florida’s high seas— Though not to Haiti, where there’s too much flak? Advance, to where a songbird wouldn’t freeze— North Africa? Although warm winds invite A scarlet tanager, would lack of trees Give raptors easy pickings for a bite? … Excited twitching never harmed a bird— Remaining Shelf-bound, surely, is preferred!
“A Rural Missouri Town Fights Big Tech, and Itself: Residents of Peculiar battled developers and some of their local officials to keep a giant data center out of their community.” —The New York Times
Let’s hear it for Peculiar. They stood up to Big Tech. They would not just roll over. Instead, they gave them heck!
Now they still have their village. It gives a body joy to know one has a lifestyle that others can’t destroy.
They stood up to Goliath until he stomped away. Now they have what they fought for— at least until that day
When someone schemes to profit and starts to sow new doubt, and they wake up some morning to find they’ve been sold out.
“Universe would die before monkey [or chimpanzee] with keyboard writes Shakespeare, study finds” —The Guardian
A million chimps can type until the world has ceased to be And never pen a Hamlet, Caesar, Lear, or Richard Three. Surprised? I must confess, my friends, I lost the urge to bet On random writing monkeys once I saw the internet.
