by Julia Griffin
“Spanx chief gives all employees first-class plane tickets and $10,000
Shapewear company founder Sara Blakely surprised employees at a party
to mark Spanx’s new $1.2bn valuation”
—The Guardian
Sara, queen of shapely vesture,
Made a sweetly fitting gesture,
Giving all her employees
First-class tickets overseas,
Letting everyone escape where
They might shed all thoughts of shapewear,
Briefly free from stringent Spanx.
Spanxers, raise a thong of thanx!
by Alex Steelsmith
“A cyclist survived an attack from a 500-pound bear by kicking the animal…”
—CNN
Steadily pedaly
quadriceps femoris,
bicycle-trained to be
powerfully quick,
offers a grizzly a
highly discouraging
unmetaphorical
finishing kick.
by Paul Lander
It’s so damn wet that
The Statue of Liberty’s
Wearing a snorkel.
by Bruce Bennett
“Seneca Falls Voters Weigh Garbage Odors Against Fear of Tax Hikes;
Will Landfill’s Mandated Dec. 2025 Closing Date Stick?”
—Water Front Online blog
The landfill? Let’s face it. It reeks!
No wonder the Town Board now seeks
A date for its closing.
Who wants to be nosing
That mountain of garbage? Its peaks
Tower over and spoil the view.
Who’d want that beside them? Would you?
But wait. Higher taxes?
Perhaps that relaxes
Your outrage and urge to go Pew!
by Chris O’Carroll
“The title of first female four-star officer gets taken by a man.”
—Tweet from Congressman Jim Banks (R-Indiana) commenting on
Rachel Levine’s promotion to four-star admiral
Jim Banks is such a little girl,
Her knickers all a-twist,
Tweeting, “I’ll say what sex you are.
No, sweetie, I insist.”
by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
“[Chancellor of the Exchequer] Rishi Sunak uses windfall to boost Whitehall spending
as UK recovers from pandemic”
—The Independent
“Rachel Reeves, the shadow chancellor, branded Sunak’s plans a ‘a classic con game'”
—The Independent’s ‘Inside Politics‘ newsletter
Come listen to the news from my red box:
Low-income earners, you will soon regain
A third of what last month’s reduction docks
Since, as your Chancellor, I feel your pain—
So what if my wife’s richer than the Queen?
If you’re a climate activist … well, I
Cut taxes on domestic flights. That’s green—
COP26 is cheaper now to fly
Off to! … Prosecco drinkers, you will see
New tax relief—though if you’re jobless, you
Get no more cash. But optimism’s free,
And you’ll get lots from me, from Boris too …
My boss distracts, your pocket’s what I pick—
Exchequers play your classic con-game trick!
by Steven Kent
“There Are Nearly 9,000 Craft Breweries In The US—But Big Beer Dominates”
—The Guardian
Time to slay Goliath, boys—
Come on, Davy, let’s get chopping!
When he falls he’ll make a noise—
We’ll be tops in hops, no stopping!
We can’t beat him one on one—
Stick together, we’ll undo him!
Heads up, lads, let’s get it done—
Band of brothers, we’ll outbrew him!
by Nora Jay
“Franz Kafka drawings reveal ‘sunny’ side to bleak Bohemian novelist”
—The Guardian
Here’s Joseph K., in pose serenely fetal,
Chillaxing with a cheerful giant beetle;
The Well-Fed Artist’s feasting, with no hassle,
On fries and popcorn in the Bouncy Castle.
Yes, “Kafkaesque”’s a synonym for “sunny”!
(“Bohemian”’s already strangely funny.)
by Clyde Always
“A federal court order has determined that the offspring of hippos once owned by drug kingpin
Pablo Escabar can be deemed ‘interested persons’ with legal rights in the United States.”
—The Hill
Though El Patrón we may decry,
he’s indirectly done some good
allowing for the personhood
of bloats of hippopotami.
by Julia Griffin
“Roman statues have been found under the site of a Norman church in Stoke Mandeville,
Buckinghamshire, in what experts are calling a ‘once in a lifetime’ find. …
Two of the figures are adults—a man and a woman, both of which have had their head split
from their body—while the third is the head alone of a child.
Statues were often vandalised before being torn down, [archaeologists] explained. …
The final destination for the Roman finds has yet to be determined…”
—UK Today News
Defaced in scorn some thousand years ago,
We lie: man, wife, and child. You find us so.
Though strangers broke us, they did not divide
Our union. You young ones, who have pried
And found us, think: you too may be defiled;
Break not the bond of man and wife and child.
by Dan Campion
“Influential U.S. comedian Mort Sahl dies at age 94”
—Reuters
Mort mesmerized the hungry i,
Ad-libbed on live TV
In sweater, button-down, no tie,
Wrote jokes for Kennedy,
Gave HUAC hell and Johnson gas
And Tricky Dick a fright,
And always had remarks to pass
On every pol in sight.
He didn’t shrink from 45
But zinged him like the rest.
Sharp pupils keep his style alive,
But Mort Sahl did it best.
by Alex Steelsmith
“A German inventor’s unique ultrasound ‘testicle bath’ birth control device for men
took the top prize at the country’s James Dyson Awards.”
—UPI
Spermity-squirmity
testicle ultrasound,
based on a theory that
no one rebuts,
wins over experts on
spermatogenesis,
though it’s opposed by a
couple of nuts.
by Chris O’Carroll
“According to two sources close to the monarch, doctors have advised the Queen to forgo
alcohol except for special occasions to ensure she is as healthy as possible for her busy autumn
schedule and ahead of her Platinum Jubilee celebrations next June. ‘The Queen has been told to
give up her evening drink which is usually a martini,’ says a family friend.”
—Vanity Fair
The Queen’s been told to stay away
From drams that ease the Royal day.
Martinis are a no-no now.
Her docs would like to disallow
Most recreation alcoholic.
Crowned heads lie ever melancholic.
by Steven Kent
“Indian Couple Float To Wedding In Cooking Pot After Floods In Kerala”
—Guardian
(To the tune of “Get Me to the Church on Time”)
I’m gettin’ married in the morning
Just like a young man in my prime.
Rivers are rising;
We’re enterprising—
Get me to the church on thyme.
Rains have been falling here for hours,
Water’s too high for us to climb.
Flood of emotion;
I have a notion—
Get me to the church on thyme.
If we are tardy they’ll understand,
But we are hardy—boys, lend a hand!
Nothing can keep us from that altar;
Soon all the bells are gonna chime.
Hall’s fully booked now,
My goose is cooked now—
Get me to the church on thyme.
Our friends are doting—give them a show;
Now we are floating—come on, let’s go!
Looks like it’s gonna be our season,
Looks like today will be sublime.
Babe, we can book there,
We’ll take the cookware—
Get me to the church, get me to the church,
Please, please get me to the church on thyme.
by Julia Griffin
“[S]cientists are calling on volunteers around the world to help identify and count [walrus] in
thousands of satellite images taken from space …
The project aims to protect the animals by carrying out a walrus census of the Atlantic and Laptev
populations over the next four years, the WWF said.”
—The Washington Post
For Mary A. and Jack
Humane observers, what prevents us
From helping with the Walrus Census?
Ignore the climate-sceptics’ fallacies:
The earth needs head-counts and analyses;
The planet’s plight is clear before us:
Come join the Walrus Scorers’ Chorus!