by Steven Kent

“Irishman Faces 20 Years In Jail After Exposing Himself On Flight To New York”
—The Guardian

Your honor, I respect your point condemning my shenanigans,
But have a heart, your lordship, set me free!
I really thought It’s just another Friday night at Flanagan’s
(I had a few before the flight, you see).

I didn’t plan to hit that man or moon the angry stewardess;
The Dewar’s made me do it, don’t you know.
So be a bloke—I swear that in the future I’ll fly fluid-less.
Hey judge, how ‘bout a drink before I go?

by Steve Bremner

“Today, virtual real estate sells for hundreds of thousands of dollars of cold, hard cash (though converted into cryptocurrency). … But, before you can buy, you have to connect your wallet to the platform.”
—”How to Buy Virtual Land in the Metaverse,” MUO

(with apologies to Joni Mitchell)

Cozy cottage, built just right,
A picket fence of whitest white,
A view of Menlo Park at night,
I looked at land that way.

But how to get there? Where to go?
They say, “It’s in the blockchain, Bro,”
And what that means, I don’t quite know
(I’m not so young). Oy vey.

I’ve searched the Cloud from all sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s Cloud illusions I recall,
I just can’t find my plot at all.

by Geoffrey Basking

“Woman rescues animal and no one can work out what it is”
—The Independent

Are you a dog, a wolf, a fox?
What is your taxonomic box?
The virtuosos went all out
To classify those ears, that snout,
But this was all its features told:
I am alone, afraid, a-cold.

UPDATE (from early Saturday):
I am alive! awake! away … !

by Alex Steelsmith

“Give Green Her Boots Back… These overtures at progressivism
often comically fold back into the retrograde ideas they claim to eschew.…
[I] would rather them keep their pseudo-progressive piffle to themselves…’”
—Opinion in The Washington Post, on planned changes to M&Ms

Wrigledy-piggledy,
M&M makeovers
snooker consumers, warns
WaPo’s review;

folks at Mars Wrigley are
pseudo-progressively
biting off more than they
claim to eschew.

by Bruce Bennett

“‘Casablanca’ had a rocky start.”
—The Washington Post

Humphrey, Ingrid, that whole crew
had no notion what to do.
Though the script was full of “corn,”
Lo! a Classic had been born.

Nothing seemed to go quite right.
Yet they carried on, despite
Grave misgivings, rewrites, doubt.
Et voilà! It all worked out.

What’s the moral? Forge ahead.
Don’t assume the whole thing’s dead.
Don’t give up. No! Give a damn!
Play it, play it, play it, Sam,

Till the stars and stars align.
Just persist. You will be fine.
Love will conquer. Carry on.
You’ll survive, though she is gone.

You will fret, but what the hell?
You succeeded, played it well.
Played it up, man, played your part.

Never mind about your heart.

by Jean L. Kreiling

I want to shout that I’m not one of these
maniacal too-anxious shoppers, here
for bread and milk and eggs—necessities
they crave whenever a nor’easter’s near.
They seem to think the storm will last forever,
or else the thought of one day with no bread
alarms them, and not one of them is clever
enough to plan more than one day ahead.
I hold my tongue, though; after all, I’m in
the store with them, crowding the narrow aisles,
subjected to the jostling and the din,
soon on a checkout line that goes for miles.
And I myself don’t look so very smart:
fudge brownie mix and cookies fill my cart.

by Clyde Always

“Gas stoves leak climate-warming methane even when they’re off”
—NPR

Reekity, leakity
now climatologists
gather to kindly in-
form us en masse

Citizens hoping to
rescue the planet who
switch to electric are
cooking with gas.

by Phil Huffy

Nasty weather has pummeled the Cape
and Boston is down on her keister.
Reporters are out in the outlands
to cover another Nor’easter.

When the blow has been dealt with again
and storm clouds have somewhat abated,
wily sellers of all sorts of things
will advertise, weather related.

A Floor’easter is sure to be held
by some outfit excelling in floors
and a Snor’easter bedding event
will bring folks in through mattress shop doors.

A tavern where business is lacking
may apply to its windows a sign
proclaiming a “Pour’easter Hour”
with a whimsical, windy design.

And Chore’easter specialty pricing
will be touted by maids near and far,
while Store’easter discounts—enticing!—
will propel me to dig out my car.

by Ashley Grice

The bird’s loud, klutzy rooftop slide
bared Mother Nature’s awkward side.

Black eyes locked on my startled stare,
her wings a blur in frigid air.

She hit the deck with claws splayed wide,
hawkish chagrin, and wounded pride,

then opted for a quick ascent
to fly off her embarrassment.

She circled once, stared straight ahead:
I wonder if her cheeks were red.

by Steve Bremner

“The CDC Is Investigating a Salmonella Outbreak Linked to Pet Bearded Dragons …
To stay safe, don’t ‘kiss or snuggle’ your reptilian friends, the CDC says.
If you have a bearded dragon… don’t eat around it, don’t let it in the kitchen,
and always wash your hands with soap and water after touching it.”
—MSN

(with apologies to Peter, Paul and Mary)

Buck the Bearded Dragon lived by the sea
And frolicked in the kitchen just to spite the CDC.
Little Jackie kissed him (he loved his Buck a lot),
Then made himself a sandwich, and spent six days on the pot.

Oh, Jackie gave his dragon to a reptile stan,
Deciding that he’d come of age: This boy was now a man!
When his fever ended and all the cramps were gone
He went and kissed a real live girl, and—bingo!—Omicron.

by Chris O’Carroll

Pols in Texas say they’re ready
For the cold that’s coming soon,
So we can assume Ted Cruz has
Booked his tickets to Cancún.

by Julia Griffin

“A part-owner of the Golden State Warriors has backtracked after saying that ‘nobody cares’
about the human rights abuses suffered by the Uyghur people at the hands of Chinese
authorities. Chamath Palihapitiya, a billionaire venture capitalist, posted a clarification of his
comments to Twitter on Wednesday. ‘I recognize that I came across as lacking empathy…'” 
—The Guardian

Nobody cares. Of course it’s sad,
But that’s the world we’ve always had.
Unless the market starts to bounce,
Do not pretend you care an ounce:
Our hearts, I fear, are iron-clad.

Apparently this truth looks bad,
But note: I haven’t said I’m glad,
And please reflect, before you pounce:
Nobody cares.

We shrug, like any undergrad
Who’s skimming through The Iliad:
So , Trojans die (in large amounts)—
And they, at least, we can pronounce!
I’ll say I’m sorry, sure, but add:
Nobody cares.

by Paul Lander

Tucker Carlson‘s so
Far up Putin’s butt, he sees
Sarah Palin’s house.

by Dan Campion

“Why are U.S. airlines concerned about 5G?
—PBS

“Controlled flight into terrain”
—Aviation jargon for “an accident in which an airworthy aircraft, under pilot control, is
unintentionally flown into the ground, a mountain, a body of water or an obstacle”

The FCC could not agree
Entirely with the FAA
On how to implement 5G.
The airlines fear wavelengths may stray

So 5G just might interfere
(Unlikely, but no guarantee)
With Flight XY’s altimeter.
Who’ll take the 1st test flight? Not me.

by Stephen Gold

“Phoenix Group [a British insurance company]… has banned the words ‘energetic’ and ‘enthusiastic’
from its job adverts because it says they deter older applicants.”
—The Times

Are you enthusiastic,
With an ever-wagging tail?
Is your energy fantastic?
Does your spirit never fail?
Are you hot on innovation,
Laser-focused on the new?
From your sparks of inspiration,
Does a mighty blaze ensue?
Is your heart suffused with passion?
Does ambition spit and smolder?
We’re afraid you’re out of fashion,
But do call us when you’re older.