by Steven Kent
“Couple who ran Swedish eco-resort say 158 barrels of human waste left behind ‘very normal'”
—The Guardian
We didn’t do
It wrong, okay?
We stored our poo
The normal way.
We fled because
A tax report
Made clear this was
Our last resort.
by Chris O’Carroll
“#2 after Trump for assassination”
—Elon Musk’s description of himself
Musk says that he is number two.
A claim few in the know pooh-pooh.
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Fights over inheritance are rife—here’s how to bulletproof your will”
—The Telegraph
Enjoy yourself before you die
And go and see the sights,
And use up all your money
So there can’t be any fights.
And tell your children if they curse
Or beg you on their knees,
“Just think how much I’m saving you
In costly lawyers’ fees.”
by Julia Griffin
I.M. Fannie Dressler
“Healing soup recipes, Part 2: Definitely not your grandma’s chicken soup!”
—NPR
Not, not my grandma’s. She has gone
(A loss we never can recoup),
But still the legend lingers on
Of her incomparable soup.
How did she do it? We don’t know.
A chicken; onion; water; salt;
Alas! We never watched her, so
All this is guesswork. No one’s fault.
Mere memories must now suffice
Of broth to make King David sing,
And matzo balls of Paradise.
Whatever you are offering
Is not my grandma’s soup, it’s true:
I’m glad you made the most of it,
But honestly, I’m asking you—
Why ever would you boast of it?
by Paul Lander
Colossal squid filmed.
First ever on camera.
I had no inkling…
by Alex Steelsmith
“A pair of critically endangered, nearly 100-year-old Galapagos tortoises
at the Philadelphia Zoo have become first-time parents… [T]he zoo said it is
‘overjoyed’ at the arrivals of the four hatchlings, a first in its more than 150-year history.”
—The Associated Press
Higgledy-goggledy,
jubilant zookeepers
gaze at the progeny,
deeply impressed;
ancient, precarious
testudinarious
ova and testes were
up to the test!
by Clyde Always
“Female jogger reveals she open carries while working out—
and urges other women to run with a gun: ‘Protect yourself ladies’”
—New York Post
Will someone please call the police?
I’ve been shot and the bleeding won’t cease.
To the chick with the gun
who was out on a run
I exclaimed: “What a nice little piece!”
by Marshall Begel
“Billionaire televangelist slashes price on $14.6M Florida condo amid scrutiny over church wealth”
—Fox7 Austin
Some think I live by lavish means
In service to the Lord,
But those who look behind the scenes
Find nothing untoward.
This Rolex watch you see me wear
Was purchased by mistake—
The jeweler, clearly unaware,
Assured me it was fake.
Armani suits are cut so tight,
My arms are always numb.
No moral man would think it right
To give it to a bum.
My condo’s just a place to stay
Till housing markets crumble.
So, now you see the wondrous way
The Savior keeps me humble!
by Alaina Hammond
I want to put the internet on mute
I want a moratorium on news
To spare myself the poison at its root
But most of all, Dear God, how I want booze!
by Thomas Germana
“In a bizarre Hail Mary to convince MAGA supporters that tariffs are a good thing,
Fox News hosts and pundits flooded the network with claims that Trump’s tariffs
will turn men into real men again.”
—Yahoo News
With tariffs, our men will be more
Red-blooded than ever before!
We’ll wreck our relations
With targeted nations,
But nothing’s as manly as war!
by Stephen Gold
“Cat or dog boosts wellbeing as much as wife or husband”
—The Times
I must refuse your suit, Sir,
No wedding bells will clang.
There can be no dispute, Sir,
My heart belongs to Fang.
A stick, a ball, a run, Sir,
Long evenings by the fire,
A life of simple fun, Sir,
Are all that we desire.
Compare these days of bliss, Sir,
To decades spent with you.
When faced with that abyss, Sir,
Do I recoil? I do!
I think that we both know, Sir,
We’d meet a sorry end.
You cannot be my beau, Sir,
I’ll stick with man’s best friend.
by Marshall Begel
“Far-Right Influencers Are Hosting a $10K-per-Person Matchmaking Weekend to Repopulate the Earth”
—Wired
If you demand a countless brood
But dating leaves you daunted,
Come join our weekend interlude
Where excess wealth is flaunted!
We guarantee you will be screwed
(Though not the way you wanted).
by Eddie Aderne
“Prince George’s Education in Limbo as Prince William and Kate Middleton Visit ‘Stuffy’ Eton College”
—Scottish Daily Express
The Waleses are visiting Eton:
They’re frowning, their arms are akimbo;
Would Georgie get stuffy, or beaten?
Perhaps. So they’re looking at Limbo.
It’s awkward to find, I agree, as
No maps show it (even Carl Sagan’s),
But there he can learn from Aeneas,
And other Exceptional Pagans.
Don’t think he’ll just wiggle his belly:
That’s really a silly misnomer;
The place has no cell phones or telly,
Just unbaptized infants and Homer,
So students can focus: Lucrece is
The nearest he’ll see to a bimbo;
Don’t wait, then, until he deceases—
Send Bonnie Prince Georgie to Limbo!
by Marshall Begel
“Breast milk-flavored ice cream to be delivered in 9 months”
—New York Daily News
If you’re the type to keep abreast
Of thrilling flavors, we suggest
The ice cream treat that’s all the rage—
Appropriate for any age!
With love pumped into every batch,
We all but guarantee a latch.
Enjoy a dish or blended shake
Just like your mother used to make!
by Julia Griffin
“Cockles, Mussels and Bodyguards: Dublin Acts to Protect Molly Malone Statue
The city said it would provide stewards for its statue of the folk song figure—
and repair its bust, which has been damaged by excessive touching.”
—The New York Times
(To the tune of “Cockles and Mussels“)
For Barbara, again
In Dublin’s fair city,
Where girls are so titty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she shone like a goddess,
Too big for her bodice,
Ah what shockers! Light-blockers! They need their own throne!
They need their own throne,
They need their own throne,
Ah what shockers! Light-blockers! They need their own throne!
Men sighed, “I must pat you!”
Though she was a statue,
Like Anna, the darling of Earwicker’s heart,
Who won the term “Floozie
Inside the Jacuzzi,”
While Molly, plus trolley, got “Tart with the Cart.”
That Tart with the Cart,
That Tart with the Cart,
Yes, Molly, plus trolley, got “Tart with the Cart.”
Her breasts are rubbed shiny,
Which makes her fans whiny,
But that’s not the end of sweet Molly Malone:
For we’re building that filly
Some tough new mamillae—
Hush, ye mockers! No knockers will equal her own!
Can equal her own,
Can equal her own,
Hush, no mockers! No knockers will equal her own!