by Mae Scanlan
When the POTUS and the FLOTUS
Left for Texas (per appeals),
We just couldn’t help but notice
That the FLOTUS wore high heels,
Black stilettos, raising eyebrows
As she sauntered to the plane;
Both the lowbrows and the highbrows
Had to think this was insane.
She wore sneakers when she landed
(There’s a flood. The lady’s hip.)
But one question (let’s be candid):
Fashion footwear for the trip?
by Catherine Chandler
A 100-year-old fruitcake believed to be from the Scott expedition has been found in a nearly “edible” state in the Antarctic. — The Telegraph, August 2017
Captain Robert Falcon Scott,
in A.D. nineteen hundred ten,
sailed from Wales, so go the tales,
with sixty-four courageous men.
Among provisions on the ship
were petrol, ponies, dogs, and skis,
a frying pan for the pemmican,
and tonnes of relish, jams, and cheese.
Moreover, Mrs. Scott had packed
(lest Robert tire of penguin steaks,
biscuits and beans and canned sardines)
the Rodney Dangerfield of cakes.
But in his haste to reach the Pole,
(though Amundsen had beaten him to it)
Scott left the chunk inside his trunk
where none would ever find or chew it.
And there it languished till today
in a lonely hut on Cape Adare,
still wrapped up in its rusty tin,
moist and none the worse for wear.
Though Captain Robert Falcon Scott
did not return to the land of the living,
in snow and ice, full of dates and spice,
lies the gift that keeps on giving.
by James Hamby
Perhaps the reason for Trump’s noncompliance
Is that he doesn’t believe in science.
by Bob McKenty
Home whites/road grays in days of yore
Were what all Major Leaguers wore,
But nowadays it’s camo gear
And retro styles from yesteryear,
Breast-cancer pinks and prostate blues
(Of course including matching shoes),
Pinstripes, perhaps, black tops besides,
And 42s for April’s ides.
Star-studded caps will be their way
Of marking Independence Day,
Late August they now take their whacks
With jaunty nicknames on their backs.
And next they must accessorize:
Designer shades to shield their eyes;
Those velcroed gloves that batters use;
Compression sleeves in gaudy hues;
And body armor to abate
The dangers lurking at home plate.
Our fabled boys of summer who
Once graced SI now crave GQ.
by Mark Granier
Trump
was always at home on the stump,
while the White House, unfortunately,
is more of a tree.
Bannon,
fired by the looser cannon,
landed with a light heart
at Breitbart.
by Orel Protopopescu
Pinned a flag to my lapel,
said the words I’d practiced well.
Nothing says I’m here to stay
like the order, Bombs away!
Pinko losers can’t erase
my bedazzling, orange face.
I like stars you can’t eclipse,
winners with hot tits and lips.
Jutting out my upper chin,
I tucked mouth and belly in,
looked that camera in the eye
and said terrorists must die.
Ripped that script up. Who needs plans?
Went to rouse my Ku Klux fans.
I don’t need fake gravity
for those folks to orbit me.
Kelly’s cleaning up my house—
He does Windows, will delouse.
With or without his consent,
I’ll eclipse my government.
by James Hamby
No longer for a garden bower
Or for your backyard porch,
There’s nothing that truly says “White Power”
Quite like a tiki torch!
The KKK’s so yesterday,
Come meet the new Alt-Right!
More like a luau or soiree
For everyone who’s white!
by Joanna Bird
Big Ben has rung
its final bong.
(Unless the bung
was put in wrong.)
by Chris O’Carroll
Neo-Nazis weren’t happy to hear
What I said, but there’s nothing to fear.
My staff said I had
To call the Klan bad,
But you know, bro, I wasn’t sincere.
You can tell I’m just faking PC
When I say what’s expected of me
With a nudge and a wink.
When I vent what I think,
I’m the white guy you want me to be.
by Edmund Conti
It’s time to keep calm
(unless you live on Guam).
by Cody Walker
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)
He thought he saw an Allegation
Stop him in his tracks:
He looked again, and found it was
A Hammer? Sickle? Axe?
“The trail leads back to Putin, friends!
The cash! The email hacks!”
He thought he saw a Middleman
Who hadn’t yet been paid:
He looked again, and found it was
Hot Damn! a Predawn Raid.
“We happened by the neighborhood,”
Said Mueller. Huh. Well played.
by Orel Protopopescu
(with apologies to Robert Frost)
Some say the world will end with Trump,
Some say Jong-un.
From ways his brain plaques tend to clump,
I hold with those who favor Trump.
But if he’s not a total loon,
I think I know enough of fear
To say his red-state twin, Jong-un,
Might shoot our sphere
Over the moon.
by Orel Protopopescu
Down dooby doo down down,
Vladdie won’t you please, pretty please come ‘round.
Had to leave this sad town, I’m so blue,
‘Cause breaking up is hard to do.
Don’t take our deal away from me.
Don’t leave my bank account in misery.
They made me sign that bill!
My fingers moved against my will.
I can’t tell Congress what we’ve been through.
Vladdie, darling, we’ll start anew.
Tell me, how can it be?
We started out so well, so tell me where’d you put your love for me?
I beg you, please, please, don’t say goodbye,
So sad you tabbed me “total weakness” guy.
Bad Congress forced my hand.
You must know that you’re still my man!
Down dooby doo down down,
Vladdie won’t you please, pretty please come ‘round. …
Even West Virginia made me blue,
‘Cause breaking up is hard to do.
by Mae Scanlan
Anthony Scaramucci
Is all smoochie
After President Trump hires him,
Talking about how he loves Trump and admires him.
But Anthony Scaramucci
Then becomes a vicious poochie,
Tearing apart the White House staff,
Which shows how quickly the wheat separates from
The chaff.
Anthony Scaramucci
Probably wears garb from Gucci,
But the manner in which a man covers his chassis
Doesn’t make a man classy.
by Edmund Conti
Here lies Donald Trump
All over the place
Campaigning on the stump
On TV in your face.
The lies of Donald Trump
Are they little? Are they white?
They’re big, they’re black, go bump
In the middle of the night.
Here lies Donald Trump
Who’s fallen far from grace
Behold that graceless lump
In his final West Wing place.