“Emergency services are currently dealing with a single vehicle [collision] on the A381 by the South Milton turn where a car has overturned. The driver stated he swerved to avoid an octopus. He is currently in custody on suspicion of drug driving.” —Kingsbridge Police Report
He thought he saw an octopus
Reposing on the road;
He looked again, but not before
He’d too abruptly slowed,
And consequently overturned
And breached the Highway Code.
He thought he saw a kangaroo
Reciting from a text;
He looked again, and found it was
A judge, distinctly vexed,
Who sentenced him to kick the drugs
And change his glasses. Next!
“‘It’s a Beatle haircut’: historian claims 15th-century portrait is from the 1960s: National Gallery’s 1450 portrait by Rogier van der Weyden was created in the 1960s by Eric Hebborn, says art historian.” —The Guardian
Imagine there’s no fraudsters:
It’s easy if you try;
No crooked sales or hoardsters,
Compelled to sell or buy;
Imagine giving painters
What collectors pay … a …ay
Perhaps some dealer-reamer Just thought he’d have some fun; You may say he’s a schemer, But he’s not the only one.
Imagine I’m a Beatle:
I’ve got a ’60s do;
This scroll is no decretal,
Just songs From Me To You;
Imagine giving paintings
Credit just per se … a …ay
Suppose I’m by a lemur: I’d still be nicely done; You may say “art blasphemer!” But I’m not the only one.
“Karl Marx’s London grave vandalised in suspected hammer attack” —The Guardian
Ye workers of the world, unite
To put this wrongful ruin right:
Exploited proletarians,
Condemn the guilty hooligans,
Then call, as swiftly as may be,
Your friends among the bourgeoisie,
Who may indeed corroborate
Society’s existing state,
But when it comes to monuments
Will spare no effort or expense.
“Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.” — Matt Groening
For you I’ll race my snowmobile And take the risk that it may heel Until it tips, and when it flips I’ll end up as a weasel meal.
“A discussion panel at the Davos World Economic Forum has become a sensation after a Dutch historian took billionaires to task for not paying taxes.”—The Guardian
As Davos’ billionaires began
To scratch each other’s backs,
A strange, farouche historian
Leapt up and shouted tax.
“You do not pay enough!” he cried;
A slogan which forthwith
The massed philanthropists denied
As economic myth.
“Pray look around,” they urged him, stunned:
“Behold how much we give!
Our institute! Our special fund!
Our youth initiative!
“We’ve founded schools! Created jobs!
Just read this dossier!”
The ingrate answered, through their sobs:
“Don’t give before you pay.
“Tax, tax, and tax! No more BS!”
This unrefined refrain
Has guaranteed, as you may guess,
He’ll not be asked again,
Until he’s learned that truth the poor
Are so unapt to learn: You cannot get a tax break for An IRS return.
“A farmer who became too upset when taking his lambs to the abattoir gave his flock to an animal sanctuary.”—BBC
Dear lambs, who skip on soft new sward And race up grassy hummocks,
The feelings that such sights afford Leave many in a flummox
As each spring strikes the same old chord In human souls . . . and stomachs.
“White House press secretary Sarah Sanders said she believes God wanted President Donald Trump to win the 2016 election, the Christian Broadcasting Network reported on Wednesday.”—CNN
Because the States were in a slump,
The Lord supported Donald Trump
In his campaign for President,
Revealing thus the discontent
Of Heaven (as, of course, elsewhere)
With DACA and Obamacare.
So Donald was assigned the post
By Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
Which might appear a rather odd
Decision on the part of God,
Did life not show (and Scripture, too)
The kinds of things He likes to do.
“Here the buffoonery never stops. … I never get tired of the show.” —H.L. Mencken, “On Being an American” (1922)
Rapt fans await the Super Bowl
With cheese balls, brats, and beer.
The game will take a fearful toll
On diets. But a cheer
Will greet each devastating hit,
Each end-zone demonstration,
By gladiators young and fit,
The pride of MAGA nation.
And if the referees don’t muff
Too many calls, the best
Team wins—but if they lose, well, tough.
The volk still had their fest.
“The teen is smirking—his expression, for me, oozes entitlement.”—The Guardian
“Covington student did no wrong.”—CNS News
A Trump-supporting schoolboy’s smirk
Revealed him as a racist jerk,
Insulting arrogantly an
Indigenous old veteran—
Until a second video
Appeared and clarified that, No,
The racists here were not young whites
But old Black Hebrew Israelites,
Who claimed the tribes had damned their souls
By idolizing totem poles.
Meanwhile, the Trumpists went to work
Upon the victim of the smirk,
Declaring him an arrant sham
Who’d never been to Vietnam;
The Anti-Trumpists reeled, but soon
Rebounded like a woke balloon
And blamed the boy again—so Vox;
He found support, of course, in Fox,
And gave, for further sympathy,
An interview to NBC
Which somehow riled both right and left—
A thing which might have bridged the cleft
And thus produced an armistice
In some quite other world than this.
The vet was also interviewed:
This too’s been variously booed,
But even journalists now seem
Fatigued or running out of steam.
The videos are quite a botch,
And really not much fun to watch;
Besides, there’s plenty more on view—
Trump-Nancy, and the Oscars do.
The details of this sad event
Will quickly fade, all passion spent;
Just one vignette looks set to lurk:
That MAGA Mona Lisa smirk.
“It’s a girl! Gender of penguin raised by Sydney’s beloved same-sex parents revealed” —CNN
Welcome, little penguin girl,
Daughter of two penguin pops!
All the Internet’s a-whirl:
Welcome, little penguin girl!
Where’s the homophobic churl
Who’ll deny your fluffy chops
Welcome, little penguin girl—
Daughter of two penguin pops?
