by Chris O’Carroll
Ed mouthed my script on crime and race,
But stiffed me on his fond embrace.
I said he’d make Virginia great.
Now he’s a loser, which I hate.
When candidates that I support
Betray my trust by falling short,
It must be their fault; it can’t be
My failure. No way. They failed me.
by Patrick Biggs
On November 7, New Zealand Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern’s cat, Paddles, was killed by a car. A polydactyl rescue cat, Paddles once famously interrupted a phone conversation between the PM and Donald Trump by “flying through the cat-flap” and “announcing her very squawky arrival,” and she had a popular Twitter account (@FirstCatofNZ). In the aftermath of Paddles’ death, businessman Gareth Morgan sparked outrage by criticising the PM for allowing her cat to wander freely, questioning Ardern’s “conservation integrity.”
New Zealand’s in mourning, and raw lamentation
Resounds through the hills and in every bay,
For Paddles, preeminent pet of our nation,
So young and so perfect, was taken away.
She once was a stray on the streets of Ranui,
An outcast defined by opposable thumbs.
Alas for poor Paddles! Our eyes are all dewy.
Our grief is a torment that harrows and numbs.
She rose to distinction despite her beginning
(Social justice for all is what Labour’s about).
Alas for poor Paddles! Our heads are still spinning.
We’ll not love again for our hearts are in drought.
Paddles would sometimes behave as she oughtn’t—
She once interrupted a president’s call.
Alas for poor Paddles! She, too, was important,
And spoke better sense with her loud caterwaul.
A cantankerous businessman quickly went bleating
That it’s good for the birdlife that Paddles is dead.
Alas for poor Paddles! She really liked tweeting.
Alas it was not Gareth Morgan instead!
Remember, remember the Seventh November!
How desolate, dismal, and doleful a day!
Alas that poor Paddles, First Family member,
So young and so perfect, was taken away!
by Orel Protopopescu
A private “chase plane” tagged along wherever Immelt flew,
without a single passenger— just pilots, staff and crew.
Why should the boss be idle when an engine needs repairs?
Why waste time renting charters when you have convenient spares?
If only stocks had taken off with Immelt’s perks and pay,
his stunning carbon wingprint might still stretch to Mandalay.
by Ian Graham
Self-driving bus involved in accident on its first day—CNN
A robot that once said it would “destroy humans” just became the first robot citizen—Business Insider
“I’ll destroy humans,” Sophia once said,
Right off the shiny bright top of her head
But over all this we’ll at last draw a veil
Which she’ll have to wear when outside without fail
As she’s now a subject so new and so proud
Of the Kingdom that’s ruled by the stern House of Saud,
The first to grant citizenship to a bot,
And a female one too. But some breaking news: what
Is this that I hear from the sands of Nevada?
The self-driving shuttle bus robot armada
In venturesome Vegas is one shuttle short
Because on its very first day it was caught
In a bit of a crash, but it wasn’t its fault.
A truck driver (human, of course) failed to halt.
Yes, all humans stray
And these days, I fear,
We get in the way.
So call in Sophia.
by Mae Scanlan
Bad news everywhere you turn,
Icebergs melt and cities burn.
Madman causes loss of life,
Puerto Rico still has strife.
Three key operatives indicted,
Five more male molesters cited.
Yet, one bit of GOOD news, dearies:
Astros win their first World Series!
by Julia Griffin
Yellow-crested cockatoos have already caused $80,000 in damage to Australia’s national broadband network wiring.—The Guardian
That bugaboo
The cockatoo
Delights to chew
The network through.
An out(r)age, yup,
To think a sup-
Ping cockatoo
Can cock it up.
by Bruce Bennett
One of the most buzzed-about inventions has been the sex robot.
The first one, Harmony,… can connect with virtual reality so the user
can interact with her in that space. … —New York Times
That headset, quick! I can’t wait to begin it.
O Brave New World, that has such robots in it!
by Chris O’Carroll
The White House tells itself, George Papadopoulos
Is much too insignificant to topple us,
But discontent is mounting in the populace.
by Julia Griffin
@RealDonaldTrump does not exist.
Tap to retry, determined masochist.
by Mae Scanlan
Somehow, there should be a ban on Bannon;
No one needs the views of this loose cannon.
Bannon holds no government position;
Sowing seeds of chaos is his mission.
Trump et al is quite enough to cope with;
We don’t need the rants of Steve to grope with.
He’s a happenstance we didn’t plan on;
Somehow, there should be a ban on Bannon.
by Ed Shacklee
They skulk about the premises philosophers debunk:
cousins to the crocodile and scions of the skunk,
somnolent if sober, somewhat flammable while drunk,
waging war with common sense to win a hill of beans,
their thoughts are tanks; their words are gas; their motives, submarines;
their motto is a winking hint, but none know what it means.
They’re wearing clownish masks above their chalky painted faces.
Their comedies are tragedies; their poison pen erases.
They bare their asses to the wind while covering the bases.
They’re plotting like the Borgias, eating clotted cream on toast
with devils down in Georgia and the pirates on the coast,
and sweat and strain to forge a chain to drag like Marley’s ghost.
Their truths are lies with faces bared, their jobs are holidays—
they golf while Rome’s engulfed within a fuel-assisted blaze,
then later feast on barbecue for which the victim pays.
They’re dancing past us naked with their patterns recognizable.
Their pickled minds are mousetrap quick, their toothy smiles are sizable,
and children like to shake their hands, but this is not advisable.
by Edmund Conti
Of all the recent drivel
From the President (our nation’s),
The worst is that he’s “civil.”
This guy does try our patience.
He is treated so unfairly.
The problem is the media’s.
Can we tolerate him? Barely.
The man is getting tedious.
by Orel Protopopescu
Blood and Beauty on a Texas Exotic Game Ranch—The New York Times
Seems that Texas is a nexus
of endangered species fans.
No narcotic’s like exotics
shot from tanks or armored vans.
You will pay just fifteen K
to shoot a wildebeest. (A bongo
sets you back a bigger stack,
but you will feel you’re in the Congo.)
It’s high tech, the chief exec
says of his hunting operation.
Take note of the burning love
we give the beasts, for conservation.
They can run, enjoy the sun,
on eighteen thousand wild acres.
Numbers grow because we show
that captive herds are moneymakers.
by Mae Scanlan
The senators Corker and Flake
Had a weighty decision to make,
For they found the regime
Of their leader and team
Was increasingly painful to take.
To avoid this bizarre can of worms,
They will quit at the end of their terms.
For the nonce, they decry
Ship of state gone awry,
While their GOP coterie squirms.
Though Corker and Flake have defected,
Their pals want to get re-elected,
So they grovel and fawn
While the anguish goes on,
And the problems remain uncorrected.
You’d think there’d be some with the pluck
To rise and denounce all this yuck.
If they don’t find a way,
The besieged USA
With Trump and his team will stay stuck.
by Catherine Chandler
Said The Donald to Mr. Jeff Flake:
You’re a loser! Sad! Gimme a break!
I’m Ivy-League gracious,
the news I’m salacious
and crazy and stupid is FAKE!!!