by Katherine Barrett Swett
(Sung to the tune of “There’s No Business like Show Business”)
There’s no business like Joe Business
Like no business I know.
Everything that he will be repealing
(At least the stuff that Congress will allow)
I can’t help the happy feeling
That Trump is stealing his final bow.
by Bruce Bennett
No ghouls this year, or little witches,
or loud delinquent sons-of-bitches.
That suits us fine, although we say
what scares us is Election Day.
by Bob McKenty
On the vigil of All Hallows, I was sitting, sipping Gallo’s
While awaiting trick-or-treaters’ bold assaults from six to nine,
When I dozed off; started snoring.
Then awoke to find it pouring,
Pouring buckets. What good luck! It’s
gonna make the evening fine.
(All that candy will be mine!)
by Chris O’Carroll
Pat Robertson says God says Trump will win.
I doubt that doubting him would be a sin.
Pat’s hawked some suspect inside dope before.
Whatever voice is telling him the score
Is maybe not divine. Don’t take my word,
Ask President Mitt Romney what Pat heard.
by Katherine Barrett Swett
“Jeffrey Toobin suspended by The New Yorker and is temporarily
stepping away from CNN following report he exposed himself on Zoom”
—CBS News
The behavior and coverage are over the top.
Why didn’t his colleagues just tell him to stop?
by Iris Herriot
“Peru opens Machu Picchu ruins for one tourist
Japanese tourist waited almost seven months to enter Inca citadel
while trapped in country during coronavirus pandemic”
—The Guardian
Makachu Pikachu,
Japanese visitor
Trapped by Corona for
Months in Peru
Tours now a citadel
Unprecedentedly
Touristless. I call that
Worth it, don’t you?
by James Higgins
(Sung to the tune of 1909’s “My Pony Boy.”)
ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Drumpf adores you,
don’ he, girl!
Take some heat,
then a seat
on our highest court.
Plan, in sum…?
Just keep mum:
you’ll be soon confirm’d.
Antonin-Clarence kin! (Bader Gin-…? No-o-o-o!)
O ConeyGirl!
ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Now you’re Mitch’s
crony, girl.
Precedents…?
Founders’ bents
trump ’em — so you’ll rule.
Wade v Roe…?
One must go,
as must ACA.
Lexual. Textual. (Sexual…? Who-o-oa!)
O ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
ConeyGirl.
Dems feel you’re a phony, girl.
Immigrants
stand no chance.
Long gun bearers thrive.
Peopl’of Praise
damn the gays.
Where do you come down…?
COVID slays. World’s malaise. (End of Days…? Doh!!)
O ConeyGirl.
by Julia Griffin
For Emily
“Kim-Joy’s recipe for macaron meringue snails”
—The Guardian
Although I’ve labored on and on
I’ve yet to get the hang
Of topping with a macaron
A snail of sweet meringue.
However much I squeeze and tug
Or nudge it with a spoon,
The outcome’s just a sugar slug
Beneath a macaroon.
by Mike Mesterton-Gibbons
Big cats with sightings in the British Isles
Remain elusive, but there’s one of note:
It cannot be a tiger, since it smiles.
The fur’s too blonde to make a lion’s coat.
It cannot be a jaguar. It’s too slow!
Snow leopard, or plain leopard? I think not!
How could this cat be either? We all know
Both leopards cannot change a single spot!
Instead this lazy feline morphs each day,
Grandiloquently toying with its prey.
Cat experts who have sighted it all say
A Cheshire cat’s more constant in its way!
There is no species name to speak to that—
So I propose: Panthera Boris Cat!
by Dan Campion
“NBC’s Welker sharp in first turn as debate moderator”
—AP
She called both rivals “Gentleman,”
Though one’s his class’s clown,
The other, aw-shucks Everyman.
She held malarkey down.
The ref who saw this match well run
And called foul punches out,
Beyond debate, Ms. Welker won
The campaign’s final bout.
by Bruce Bennett
“An asteroid with a diameter the size of a refrigerator could strike the Earth
the day before the November election, according to celebrity scientist Neil deGrasse Tyson—
but it’s not large enough to do any serious damage.”
—New York Post
20-18-VP1
is heading for us. O what fun!
It will wreak what harm it may
just before Election Day.
Not to worry. It’s too small
to cause us any harm at all.
And besides, who’ll even notice
if we get our change of POTUS!
by Paul Lander
Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote
Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote
Vote Vote Vote Vote Vote
by Chris O’Carroll
Crazy Dems want Charles Manson to vote!
That’s the scare that Ted Cruz tries to float.
But since Charlie’s been dead
For three years, maybe Ted
Is the wrong legal scholar to quote.
by Katherine Barrett Swett
“Massachusetts Town Begs Residents to Stop Calling about Fish”
—The New York Times
It’s not a shark,
Despite the fin.
Stop calling us.
We are not in.
It’s not unwell,
Despite its lolling.
And by the way,
Could you stop calling?
A nice sunfish,
No need to fuss,
A friendly fish,
You don’t need us.
Post it on Facebook,
If you must,
Or Instagram,
Just don’t call us.
Your local cops
Have just one wish:
Please do not call
About that fish.
by Julia Griffin
“Tourist returns stolen artefacts from Pompeii ‘after suffering curse’
… The Canadian woman, identified only as Nicole, sent a package containing
two mosaic tiles, parts of an amphora and a piece of ceramics to a travel agent
in Pompeii, in southern Italy, alongside a letter of confession. …
‘Please, take them back, they bring bad luck,’ she wrote.”
—The Guardian
The spirits of Pompeii are very loath to be disturbed.
A wish to rob their households is a wish that should be curbed;
Recall Nicole from Canada, who yielded to the aura
Of two mosaic tiles, a shard, and parts of an amphora.
She smuggled them from Naples with her other souvenirs,
And in her chilly northern home they waited many years.
Meanwhile, Nicole, though doubtless much revering them at first,
Was slowly made to feel herself inevitably cursed.
No need to list the nasty things the pilferer endured;
They soaked her like the waters of an overflowing fjord,
Till, medically sick of the avenging bric à brac,
She bowed her head in penitence and sent the whole lot back.
In picturesque Pompeii, upon the rich volcanic loam,
Two tiles and bits of pottery embrace their proper home.
The local gods are smiling, but, to coin an apothegm:
Unless your name’s Vesuvius, don’t mess about with them.