—New York Post

by Bruce Bennett

It’s merely a glitch. Do not worry.
Just take out your card in a hurry.
And though it seems strange,
Don’t bother with change,
Because — well — it might come out furry.

by Julia Griffin

“Musher loses huge lead in Alaska’s Iditarod Race after dogs go on strike:
Nicolas Petit says dogs stopped after he shouted at them”
—The Guardian

O have you heard tell of a musher named Nick,
Who traveled the ice with his sled and his pick,
And sixteen brave huskies, a regular squad:
And all for the prize in the Iditarod?

They set out from Anchorage early in March:
The sled was heaped high with tarpaulins and starch,
The dogs were in harness and sturdily shod,
Intent on success in the Iditarod.

They sledded through Willow, their spirits were high,
The tundra and spruces were sweet to the eye;
Brave Nick offered praise to the dogs as they trod:
O how could they fail in the Iditarod!

Now Rohn was behind them and also McGrath,
When Nick felt inside him the stirrings of wrath:
Two huskies were snarling. “This isn’t so odd,”
Thought he, “with the strains of the Iditarod”;

But three blizzards on, by the cold Bering Sea,
He turned on the two with a curseword or three.
Then snorted the pack: “Does he think he is God?
Let him take the pull for the Iditarod!”

And down on their haunches they parked in the snow.
Not one further step could he coax them to go;
So home again sadly Nick knew he must plod,
So close to his goal in the Iditarod.

And this is the story of Nick-out-of-time,
Defeated by dogs in a difficult clime;
Let’s hope they’ll forgive him and give him the nod
To come back next year for the Iditarod.

by Julia Griffin

“A man stranded with his dog in snow in central Oregon for five days survived by eating taco sauce packets”
—The Guardian

Five days quite unusually chilly
Trapped two in a car willy nilly—
A fearful fiasco
If not for tabasco,
Sriracha and hot piccalilli.

Yes, Taco Bell’s sauce has no rival
For keeping us warm and salival:
With Bell’s for your ketchup,
Wherever you fetch up
You’ll have a wild chance at survival.

—The New York Times

by Bruce Bennett

Trump counts on his Saters and Peckers
To keep his misdeeds from fact-checkers.
But Dems have the crew
And know what to do
To be both restorers and wreckers.

The rest of us say, About time!
We’re sick of the sludge and the slime.
The swamp must be drained.
Trump must be restrained.
At last he will pay for his crime—

His crimes. What are those? We shall see.
Stay tuned. Each new day there will be
Unforeseen revelations
And tawdry sensations
Delicious to you and to me!

Until, at the end—but who knows?
At the least, he won’t smell like a rose.
We’ll get rid of his henchmen
And some of the stench when
He picks up his marbles and goes.

by Orel Protopopescu

Power’s an aphrodisiac
for one, now half-amnesiac,
whose fourth term’s nearly done.
As fragile as a shriveled stalk,
he cannot talk and cannot walk,
but somehow, says he’ll run.

by Ruth S. Baker

“GOP lawmakers wore pearls while gun violence victims testified”
—The Washington Post

Look at our lawmakers, dressed up so fine!
Guns before sanity; pearls before swine.

by Julia Griffin

“The tiny Jacquemus Mini Le Chiquito bag is smaller than a credit card and can be held in the palm of your hand”
—The Guardian

The Jacquemus Mini Le Chiquito
Can hold a folded leaf of chard
Or maybe up to half a Cheeto,
But not a current credit card.
You may, though charmed, be apprehensive
About the price, and this is high;
It’s made, however, less expensive
By all the stuff you cannot buy.

by Jerome Betts

(Theresa May faces another “meaningful
vote” concerning Brexit on March 12th.)

MPs argue! Softer! Harder!
European Union’s vile?
Some deal? No deal? Stock the larder!
Weasel words and bilge and bile!

Referendum? Splits! Dissension!
Break up? Scotland leaves UK?
No election! Claim extension?
Backstop? Back-stab? Bye-bye, May?

by Phil Huffy

“Last week, Michael Cohen revealed that he threatened academic institutions not to release Donald Trump’s school records.”
—The Washington Post

Down at the Middle School,
in archives there curated,
the President’s old 5th grade files
have now been infiltrated.

Some of the data kept,
and records there collected,
appear removed or modified
by persons undetected.

Those portions which remain
of all the things impacted
include report cards still on hand,
though heavily redacted.

And IQ quotient scores,
so vital to our nation,
now show irregularities
suggesting alteration.

by Nora Jay

“I met two T-shirt vendors who had parked their carts, full of Trump hats, hoodies and pins, in the path of the attendees. Angel Gaudet and Skaheen Thompson, both from South Carolina, have been following Trump to his rallies since his 2016 campaign. …
I asked if they would support higher taxes for millionaires if it meant that people like them would get free healthcare. Gaudet didn’t hesitate. ‘No, because one day we might be the millionaires.’”
—The Guardian

O what could hearten Mammon more
Than such accommodating prayers:
The aspirations of the poor
To be as mean as millionaires?

by Dan Campion

“Why is so much of television so bad? … I would like to see television improved.”
—FCC Chairman Newton Minow, in famous 1961 speech

“Shows like ‘Barry’ and ‘Russian Doll’ are trying to re-instill basic lessons in human decency that might have gotten misplaced somewhere.”
—The New York Times, 2019

Where did I place my dignity?
I’ve dropped it, like a key.
No need to search on hand and knee;
I’ll find it on TV!

Now, where’s lost generosity?
Where can that virtue be?
But (short a vow of poverty)
I’ll find it on TV!

Where’s modesty? Where’s chastity?
That great whale, Decency?
O, Newton Minow, pray for me!
I’ll find them on TV!

by Julia Griffin

“Scientists stunned by discovery of ‘semi-identical’ twins:
Boy and girl, now four, are only the second case of ‘sesquizygotic’ twins recorded”
—The Guardian

Memini Gemini
Twins (names unknown to us):
Semi-identical,
Girl next to boy;

Savor the word for them:
Sesquizygotical!
Sesquipedalia—
Always a joy.

by Chris O’Carroll

Though they tortured our guy in their prison,
Kim has said he knew nothing about it.
Ever since our first beautiful summit,
I’m in love with him, so I don’t doubt it.

I believe in the Prince and in Putin
When they say to me strongly, sincerely
That they’re not into bone saws and hacking.
They’re tough leaders and I love them dearly.

By canoodling with Kim for the cameras,
I have proved I should win the Nobel.
He’s still got his nuclear weapons,
But believe me, the deal’s going well.

by Julia Griffin

“A new object has been discovered in the distant reaches of our solar system and given the name FarFarOut, according to a prominent astronomer.”—The Guardian

Time was when space was full of tales:
When Greek was still our mentor,
We had the Virgin and the Scales,
The Hunter and the Centaur;

The clustered moons of Jupiter
Were loves to share his slumbers;
But now astronomers prefer
To name things after numbers;

Alternatively, it appears,
The latest sort of craze is
To fasten on the cosmic spheres
Some well-selected phrases:

When now there swims into our ken
An object never labelled,
We call it not Square Root of Ten
Or Name of Someone Fabled,

But something that admits no doubt—
Not nerdified or silly:
Like, for example, FarFarOut,
Or LonelyLonelyChilly.

by Dan Campion

There was to be a signing,
Then Nobel Prize (a hunch).
But Kim and Don, repining,
Saved ink and canceled lunch.

The papers left unsigned-on,
The napkins left still bunched,
The cukes and nukes declined-on:
How sad. They should’ve lunched.