by Barbara Loots
“Jackson jail’s screening policy on
underwire bras causes an uproar.”
—Kansas City Star
Her underwires have caused a blip:
the lady lawyer has to strip.
What contraband might be holed up
suspiciously in that D-cup?
A shiv, a razor blade, a gun,
a six-pack, a forbidden phone?
A bra with such a sturdy frame
could hold a kilo of cocaine.
Attorneys wearing certain bras
are not exempted from the laws
preventing key and belt and shoe
and kitchen sink from passing through.
Never mind your background clearance.
There’s no telling from appearance,
say officials, what’s in there
besides your lacy underwear.
The hapless client’s legal aid,
and justice, too, must be waylaid.
by Ruth S. Baker
“Wild bees from Argentina are building their homes from plastic”
—National Geographic
Some bees make homes in human eyes.
Some build with shards of plastic.
If these two groups should compromise,
Things might get rather drastic.
by Dan Campion
In the room the members come and go,
Impeachment, yes; impeachment, no,
To the last syllable of recorded time.
Then Time will clearly say it: “Crime.”
by Nora Jay
“Led not into temptation: Pope approves changes to the Lord’s Prayer
The pope said in 2017 he believed the wording should be altered. … ‘It’s Satan who leads us into temptation: that’s his department.'”
—The Guardian
O let us not fall to temptation:
This upgrade deserves an ovation.
The Lord should not do
The leading into—
Except during Satan’s vacation.
by Ruth S. Baker
“Anderson Cooper forgot to tell his Mom he was coming out.”
—Entertainment Weekly
Perhaps he should have told her—what’s polite is mostly best;
But by the time he’d come half way, she surely must have guessed.
by Ruth S. Baker
“Austrian official warns against ‘cow-kissing’ challenge for charity.”
—HuffPost
When it’s blowing from the south,
Kiss no cow upon the mouth.
Easterlies are fine for ships:
Not for kissing bovine lips.
Self-control in this is best,
Till the wind be in the west;
While there’s still a northern breeze,
Do not snog the cattle, please.
by Julia Griffin
“Everybody is tweeting about ‘cliff wife‘”
—The Guardian
“Watch my wife fall down a cliff!”
Tweets Jack, and shortly after,
He becomes a meme and gif
And butt of Google’s laughter.
“Cliff Wife Guy” now rues his life,
And Jill’s must also rankle:
Thanks to Jack, she’s Cliff Guy Wife;
She’s also bruised her ankle.
by Chris O’Carroll
“Trump’s misspelling of Biden’s name trends on Twitter”
—The Hill
I’ve said Joe Bidan has a low IQ,
And Little Rocket Man has said so, too.
Bidan’s a dummy. Kim and I both know
Stupidity when it puts on a show.
Believe us when we tell you who’s not smart
And whose deals are pure stable genius art.
by Julia Griffin
“Miss India 2019 organizers blasted for fair-skinned finalists.”
—India Today
The earth has nothing to show more fair
Than the belles who would be Miss India,
Mincing along in their Disneywear—
And every darn year pale-skinned-ier!
O who would have thought that the favoured sheen
Of a 50s Barbie- or Cindy-Girl
Would be de rigueur in the year ’19
For Punjabi- and Rawalpindi-girl?
O why must it be that the human peach
Who overcomes every rivalry
Is fleshed in a colour approaching bleach
And ethically-suspect ivo(l)ry?
Say, why can’t her darker sisters preen,
Lips puffy and paint meticulous—
Or collagen-free and size sixteen
(But that would be just ridiculous).
by Julia Griffin
“Man says an intruder broke into his house, cleaned it and left.”
—CNN
Yes, an intruder came and cleaned and left.
I’d really have preferred a normal theft
Or downright smash-and-grab-style daylight robbery
To this embarrassing unpaid odd-jobbery.
The bathroom’s full of toilet-paper roses,
As if we bought the paper for our noses.
We’ve changed the locks now—no more interloping!
(The kitchen window’s open, though. Here’s hoping.)
by Dan Campion
“Amazon is reportedly working on wearables that can read your emotions”
—CNBC
I do not want my feelings read
By Bezos, Google, Cook, or Zuck.
The very thought fills me with dread.
Oops. Now they know. Wish me good luck.
by Nora Jay
“In June 2017, the American Chemistry Council’s (ACC) senior director Stephen Risotto in a letter asked the agency to ‘suspend the implementation’ of the 2014 EPA memo laying out how regulators should hasten TCE cleanups.”—The Guardian
(i)
So this is the motto
Of Stephen Risotto,
American Chemical king:
“We don’t have a pre-nup
Enforcing a clean-up,
Which anyway isn’t a thing.
Let’s hear no more ructions
About our obstructions:
The charge (unlike spills) doesn’t stick;
We’ve never obstructed
The things that our muck did;
And if that upsets you, you’re sick.”
(ii)
Leak of lead and spill of oil,
Gobbets of polluted soil,
Halogenous solvents (yum!),
Hexavalent chromium,
Lashings of formaldehyde,
Scum of ponds where frogs have died
(EPA-approved as clean);
Add trichloroethylene,
Mixed with babe’s discolored tongue,
Damaged heart and failing lung,
All with tasty tumors rife
(And, of course, the Right to Life).
Boil it down and serve it hot
In a big asbestos pot
For a rich Risotto dish,
Fit for CEOs! (You wish.)
by Ruth S. Baker
“Grumpy Cat, the internet’s most famous cat, dead at 7”
— CNN
The door gets opened when I please.
I prowl the whole night long,
Then sleep on warm computer keys.
You think I’m happy? Wrong.
I’ve pricey sofas for my claws
Plus Frank Lloyd Someone’s chairs,
All mine for shredding into straws.
I sit on saints. Who cares?
Oh, here we go. You think, perchance,
Scared mouse for every meal
And snacks of prized umbrella plants
Impress me? Please. Big deal.
I have to eat and mate and doze
Then do it all again.
Dear God! One hardly even knows
To whom one can complain.
by Julia Griffin
“Library stink: smell of durian prompts evacuation at University of Canberra”
—The Guardian
In test-time, librarians say,
It’s hard to dislodge a BA;
But what neither flu
Nor boredom will do,
A dishful of durian may.
by Dan Campion
No requiem for Doris Day,
In film the fairest queen of May,
Can capture her pellucid tone
Or claim her luster for its own.
Warner movies of her era,
Their patter à la Yogi Berra
(Not exactly Sophocles),
Reduced her range to bait and tease;
Like Elvis she was handicapped
But still held audiences rapt
With spirit no one’s caged or mapped
Or bottled, packaged, cloned, or apped.
Now, therefore, let us celebrate
An actor who transcended fate
And singer who from “Que sera”s
Could wring a flinty world’s applause.
