by Julia Griffin
US President Donald Trump tweeted his thanks to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un Thursday, after the possible remains of American war dead killed in the Korean War arrived back on US soil.—CNN
Thank you, Chairman Kim Jong Un,
For keeping of your word:
I like you more than Good Night Moon,
Whatever you have heard.
I’m not at all surprised you took
This action nice and kind;
And let me add how thin you look
When photo’d from behind.
We’re thrilled you’re sending back our dead:
We’re sure beneath each lid
We won’t find something else instead,
The way the British did.
Your letter, too, was kind and nice.
I hope to see you soon
And treat you to an Egg McRice,
Dear Chairman Kim Jong Un.
by David Hedges
My best advice to Michael Cohen: Flee.
This latest tape has turned The Donald blue.
Eyeball to eyeball with reality,
He’s bound to wonder, “What would Putin do?”
by Ian Graham
“A topiarist says he is having to make regular repairs to his hedge due to drunk people pretending to have sex with it. … The hedge, which he has sculpted over the past 40 years, started off as a Greek god but he changed it into a reclining woman at the turn of the millennium.”— BBC News
In the twentieth century, to please the drunks,
I carved Dionysus (without any trunks)
Into my hedge, and there the god lay
Quite undisturbed until one fateful day
A slip of the trimmer on the hardy perennial
Converted him into a female millennial
Which greatly augmented the passing trade
And also the toll of repairs to be made
But to tell you the truth, I have zero regrets
As workloadwise, I have hedged all my bets
For in terms of the topiarist’s sacred arts
Women have easier privet parts.
by Cody Walker
(with apologies to Lewis Carroll)
He thought he saw an Empty Suit
Abandoned on a Table:
He looked again, and found it was
A Genius (“very stable”).
“A ‘Made in Russia’ genius! Snap!
I saw it on the label.”
He thought he saw the word “COLLUSION”
Spelled with just one L:
He looked again, and found it was
High treason? Hard to tell.
“Let’s toss another coin or two
Inside the wishing well.”
He thought he saw a Cage (a Cage!)
Constructed at the border:
He looked again, and found it was
Ivanka. (He ignored her.)
“She’s like an extra extra on the
Set of Law & Order.”
He thought he saw his Country’s Fortunes
Crumble—wait a minute:
He looked again, and found there was
Another way to spin it.
“In eighty years we’ll be cadavers.
Kinda funny, innit?”
by Julia Griffin
—Barefaced cheek: Rubens nudes fall foul of Facebook censors — The Guardian
Farewell, ye nudes of Rubens, all unbodiced,
Each dimple and each pimple, rosy-ripe;
Now Facebook bans all hints of the immodest;
The arts require a purer prototype.
No longer shall we peep in shy rubescence:
Such grossness on the screen is now pre-shunned;
We’re giving up exuberant nubescence,
Eschewing the cherubic rubicund.
Yet cynics claim we’re mere naïfs and newbies;
It’s no square deal, they sneer, but cubic con;
We’re choosing prudish rubrics over rubies,
And heading for a pubic Rubicon.
The Facebook cops (say these) are worse than rubes:
They’re manifested as tremendous boobs.
by Dan Campion
“Birds are dinosaurs. ”—Steve Brusatte, The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs
“[A] farmer spotted the fossils while herding sheep.”—Reuters
They dig each week from arid ground
Another beast, age so profound
It staggers us unused to such
Deep time, who do not venture much
Outside our own sad, savage era
Stained by ink and smeared mascara.
With signs of feathers, colors, wit,
These dinosaurs look custom-fit
To rule ten million years times ten
On Earth, then do it all again.
Instead, a vagrant star took charge,
Upstaging lizards living large.
They slumped off Earth without a word
And left it to the hummingbird.
by Chris O’Carroll
The friendship we build at the summit
Will be such a beautiful thing.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
They say his spies hacked our election,
But he’s strong, so I’ll give him a pass.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
He’s tough. He’s so full of machismo,
He makes my heart beat double quick.
As soon as I get to Helsinki,
I’ll be kneeling to kiss Putin’s ring.
by Mae Scanlan
President, President, where have you been?
“I’ve been to London to visit the Queen.”
President, President, what did you there?
“I maddened our allies, but what do I care?”
by Joanna Bird
On the streets there’s been much agitation;
There’s frustration and rage in the air.
Could it be anti-Trump protestation?
No! It’s fighting about Build-A-Bear.
by Julia Griffin
“I’m a Very Well-Bred Toff Says Ex-Showjumper who Daubed Pig’s Blood on Cheating Lord’s ₤1m Flat”: After praising the “very nice judge” who let her walk free, [she] said: “Everything starts in Norfolk. It is a hotbed of sex. I am a very, very well-bred toff, I was born and bred in Norfolk. So many people have said I should write my life story but I am so bonkers I can’t remember it.” —Daily Mail
How patrician this whole scenario:
Jumping lady and humping lord
(Sixty-three and a true Lothario);
Low-browed plebs must be over-awed.
Ex-Showjumper has found catharsis
Through this sanguinary jamboree;
Such impulsiveness quickly passes
With such aristocrats as she;
Blue-blooded character soon reconquers:
She’s regretful for what she did,
Characterizing herself as “bonkers”
(Charged, on top, fifteen thousand quid).
Now she’s doing Community Service,
Banned by miles from her Tory peer;
But the price of her fervent lurve is
Not so high as a prole might fear.
In South Africa, not in prison,
Fined the price of a Ritz cocktail,
Ex-Showjumper, her stock much risen,
Speaks her mind to the Daily Mail:
“The judge understood that we’re not like poor folk:
Toff-style passion’s what flutters our wigs;
Everything starts in naughty Norfolk—
Hotbed of sex, and poshos, and pigs.”
by Viveca Priestley
After illustrating a lecture on turtles with photos of scantily clad former students, scientist Dick Vogt was stripped of his Distinguished Herpetologist Award.
He was wrong to include those bikinis,
but think of what’s truly obscene: he’s
the jerk whose slides make us
show all, from cloacas
to purple reptilian weenies!
by Dan Campion
“President Trump kicked off his trip to Europe with a biting critique of the United States’ longtime allies, declaring at a breakfast meeting that Germany ‘is captive to Russia.’ Next to him, three of his senior officials seemed uncomfortable at times, pursing their lips and glancing away from the table. … In a statement to The Post, White House press secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders said, ‘[Gen. John Kelly] was displeased because he was expecting a full breakfast and there were only pastries and cheese.'”—The Washington Post
I miss my customary fare.
Alas, the sideboard’s almost bare.
I’ll look forlorn. They’ll have a heart
And send a proper breakfast cart.
My President is speaking, though—
I’ll do my best to smile and glow. . .
Nope, nothing doing. In a pet,
A four-star needs an omelet.
by Jerome Betts
It’s hardly civil in a guest
To stab his hostess in the chest
With praise of one more crass buffoon
Who hopes to dispossess her soon.
Bad form, not cricket, bloody bumptious—
Or should we rather term it Trumptious?
by Julia Griffin
(with apologies to Byron)
“Now experts say it’s possible the Supreme Court could reverse the landmark ruling that legalised abortion nationwide in America more than 40 years ago.”—ABC News [Australia]
So, we’ll bet no more on Rovie,
For years a legal right;
The Court has long been mauvey;
It’s looking red tonight.
For a law’s good health depends
On favor more than truth,
And Rovie has few friends
But Elena, Sonia, Ruth;
And though they’re holding steady,
I’m very much afraid
That the tide has turned already.
Watch poor Rovie wade.
by Bruce McGuffin
“[Starbucks] said Monday that by 2020, it will be using straws made from biodegradable materials like paper and specially designed lids.”—The Boston Globe
We teetered on the edge of the abyss,
brought to the brink of doom by plastic straws.
Who ever thought the world would end like this?
Then Starbucks bravely rallied to our cause!
The clouds of gloom disperse, the sun shines through.
“Three cheers!” I say and raise a grateful venti.
“To Starbucks, they have saved us, yes it’s true!
If we can just hold on till 2020.”
