“Following protests of Spotify kicked off by Neil Young over the spread of COVID-19 vaccine misinformation [by Joe Rogan],
the music streaming service said that it will add content advisories before podcasts discussing the virus.”
—The Washington Times
“Dominic Cummings says it is his ‘duty to get rid’ of Boris Johnson: Former No 10 chief adviser describes effort to remove PM from office as ‘sort of like fixing the drains’” —The Guardian
Dom Cummings here. I used to be your brains Regarding everything. Now I pursue A duty that’s a lot like fixing drains— It’s dirty work that someone has to do. News leakers, you, Sue Gray and I all know Redactions—hiding snakiness—aren’t quite Enough to save your skin. To whistle-blow, PM, is dutiful, when spite makes right! … Absorbed in thoughts of monuments to you, Imagining you’re Emperor of Rome Revived, you ditched the brains you needed to Move Downing Street beyond a halfwit’s home … A drain repairman’s master of the snake— Now I must flush you out, for duty’s sake!
“A butterfly conservatory is shutting down due to right-wing harassment” —NPR
The chainsaws came to clear a way For MAGA’s border wall.
Our Center sued, so, sad to say, Receives threats that appall.
Their right-wing source seems not to care For our life’s how and why.
Perhaps they’ll learn. We hope we’re there. It takes two wings to fly.
“Polar bears move into abandoned weather station” —The Guardian
At first, we must suppose, it was a game;
They saw a box, and in they shambled: males,
Then mums and cubs. And soon it seemed a shame
Not to explore, to climb the stairs; when gales
Rattled the window-frames, they learned to peep,
Dusty but cozy. By and by the dust
Must have grown irksome, so they learned to sweep,
Then decorate: some chairs; some art—a bust;
A paint job (something bright, for winter nights);
Curtains, and under-curtains—even though
They had no neighbors but the Northern Lights,
You’d think. They instituted, even so,
Some sort of spy-hole in the door, a lock,
And marks we could not fail to read: PLEASE KNOCK.
“Eric Chicken, Faculty Senate president and professor of statistics at Florida State,
called the [building] revelations ‘serious news,’ saying, ‘I expect that FSU will do everything
it can to protect the members of our university community.'” —Inside Higher Ed
Chicken isn’t too concerned
by the facts he’s so far learned.
“I expect that FSU
will do what it needs to do.”
Others aren’t quite so sure.
Radon, “black debris,” and more
are a daily source of harm
leading to the Profs’ alarm!
Not to worry. There’s an answer
to the spread—and threat—of cancer.
There has been a full report.
There’ll be others of that sort.
Meanwhile, air vents filled with gunk
have been tossed, with other junk.
Everyone can see the meaning
of this careful, thorough cleaning.
Everyone who thinks upon it
can be reassured we’re on it.
Though, of course, all should be prudent:
Do not share this with a student.
Do not blabber to the Press.
We will make it through, we guess.
“Police suspect that a dead man who was brought to a post office in Ireland
by two men trying to claim his pension had died just hours before the incident. Gardaí have ruled out foul play” —The Guardian
The Gardai guards are far from lax:
We always pay attention.
The dear departed pay no tax,
And therefore draw no pension,
So when we see one in the queue
With pension book out ready,
Between two smooth explainers who
Support him like a teddy,
We move to stop them at the till,
Evincing our awareness:
We’re ruling out foul play, but still,
We’re ruling in unfairness.
“Princeton University invites students to make ‘art’ with condoms: ‘LatEXHIBITION’…
The condom-inspired artwork will be judged on the evening of Feb. 14, when a ‘National Condom Day’
event will be held at the university… [One student calls the event] ‘crude and undignified.’” —Global Herald
Higgledy-giggledy,
National Condom Day
spawns an exhibit that
causes dissent;
students condemning the
latexhibitionist
spectacle feel it’s a
seedy event.
“Italian Sexism Row Over Job Advert Asking For Bathing Suit Image” —The Guardian
You’re trained to keep the books and type at sixty words per minute?
No need; the job is simply to look pretty.
Your resume? Whatever. Just a photo with you in it
Will do if your bikini’s itty-bitty.
I put my first guess in—no squares go green;
just two go yellow; all the rest are gray.
It’s not the best, and not the worst I’ve seen.
I put my next guess in—one square goes green.
Words scroll my brain like credits on a screen.
I think of all I’ve got to do today.
I put my next guess in—now two squares green,
another yellow, and the last two, gray.
A stack of bills to pay and rooms to clean.
I put my fourth guess in—still two squares green.
Of this, at least (I think) I could be queen—
and rule the Facebook share that brings cachet.
I put my fifth guess in—all squares go green!
Farewell ye yellows!…now to face the gray.
A grandma, Jean, was right to be a mite Suspicious when her grandson called from jail, Explaining he had driven drunk. His plight Now needed her to find eight grand for bail … It’s just too bad her grandsons are so young, One knows they’re still in driving quite unversed— Rogue scammers who want grandmas to get stung Should do their homework on their victims first! … Ms. Jean informed the crook she wasn’t short Of cash, to lure him, but supplied in lieu Mere paper towels, and two police, to thwart Escape … The moral’s clear: Don’t misconstrue Near-sounding words, or they may foil your plot— Though Jean is senior, senile she is not!
