by Jerome Betts
“Worth a shout? Yelling is the best way to deter gulls, UK study suggests”
—The Guardian
It seems that shouting has deterred
The crime of “robbery by bird,”
But, when starved seagulls mount attacks
On tourists’ chips and other snacks,
The sort of yell the thieves might wish
Is . . . Sorry that we stole your fish!
by Thomas DeFreitas
“New Hampshire [Democratic] Sen. Jeanne Shaheen defended her vote to end the record-breaking government shutdown…”
—USA Today
It’s been a while since Jeanne Shaheen
Last surfaced on my radar screen,
And, truth be told (does this sound mean?),
I much preferred Shaheen unseen.
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“I tried [soccer star] Erling Halland’s fitness routine for a day. I’ve rarely felt so smug”
– The Telegraph
But even just a small amount of training
Can leave you with a gratifying glow,
As long as you are regularly checking
It’s slightly more than anyone you know.
by Clyde Always
A flier with measles allegedly trotted
through Newark unnoticed. You’d think he’d be spotted.
by Bruce Bennett
“President Trump’s Halloween party at Mar-a-Lago, set to the theme of ‘The Great Gatsby,’ re-enacted the decadence of that story’s licentious era … The revelatory moment says so much about where we stand today—and what we could be lurching into next.”
—The New York Times
Gatsby’s back, alive and well.
Let the country go to Hell!
Drink and spend and have a ball!
Who says rising things must fall?
Who says we can’t spend and spend?
That “good times” are bound to end?
That one can’t just say “Old Sport”
and think that will hold the fort?
Party on, and bust, and break!
All is for the taking. Take!
Spoils are for the Well-To-Do.
Raise your glass to You Know Who.
Raise your glass and fork that cash!
Who says there will be a Crash?
See that Oval Office gleam?
Make a nightmare of the Dream.
Snatch huge profits from the loss.
Then, pay homage to the Boss.
Never suffer shame or doubt.
Dance, as that green light goes out.
by Clyde Always
“Serial bandit—with 5 prison stints for burglary—keeps hitting NYC kosher stores on the Sabbath but remains free”
—New York Post
Saturday-shatterday,
Angelo Robinson
breaks into delis—through
Brooklyn he stalks.
Kosher ones seem to be
hypersusceptible.
Warning: this crook may be
picking your lox.
by Marshall Begel
“Judge shocked as officer joins court meeting over Zoom without wearing pants”
—Fox
His Honor grants a legal stay
allowing press its exposé
about an officer in court
whose wardrobe choices came up short
as long as no reporter probes
what judges wear beneath their robes.
by Steven Kent
“Slang terms like ‘six-seven’ have no definition. But they’re loaded with meaning”
—The Guardian
The kids who spout this gibberish today
Must learn to speak in words both pure and true.
If they should still refuse the proper way,
Hey, 23 skidoo!
We’ll school ’em till the cows come home, for sure,
In phrase and elocution while we can.
Their slang and nonsense, no one should endure—
Your father’s mustache, man!
by Steven Urquhart Bell
“Gamble to become a full-time artist pays off with debut exhibition”
—Evening Standard
I’d love to make a brand-new start
And chuck my job to ply my art,
But first I need to find the pluck
And then I need a job to chuck.
by Dan Campion
“Small Businesses Gear Up for Tariff Fight at Supreme Court”
—The New York Times
This “gearing up” to meet the Court
In battle royal may
Produce a win or come up short.
Observers cannot say.
Young David slew Goliath, yes?
Hence justice may prevail.
But bet on it? Good luck! My guess:
A small thumb’s on the scale.
by Marshall Begel
“Tyra Banks is launching ‘hot ice cream’… a creamy, dreamy consistency that can be sipped from a cup…”
—CNN
So, Tyra Banks announced her drink debut?
But I’ve already crafted such a brew:
My mocha cappuccino with a hint
of caramel, vanilla, peppermint,
a healthy splash of heavy whipping cream
infused with almond concentrate, then steam
till just about a boil, with room for rice
milk, sprinkled with a dash of pumpkin spice.
But I suppose I’ll try hers for a span,
at least till Starbucks lifts my lifetime ban.
by Steven Kent
“New Jersey [police] officer charged after going out for pizza instead of responding to shooting”
—The Guardian
Our officers are dedicated, to the nth degree.
Okay, so Sarge Bollaro wasn’t right where he should be
The night he stopped for pizza as two locals lay here dyin’,
But hey, at least he didn’t order Cali or Hawaiian!
by John Branning
“Trump Suggests He Knows He Can’t Run Again: ‘It’s Too Bad'”
—The New York Times
I can’t run again… That’s a shame, it’s too bad—
when I’ve been the best POTUS that you’ve ever had.
I would not be allowed, based on what some have said
(though I’ve heard I could run as the VP instead).
But I won’t use that loophole, I think it’s too cute.
And the POTUS, not Veep, holds the clout absolute.
I think Marco would make a good Prez, or else Vance.
(It’s a real goddamn shame I can’t get a third chance.)
Continuing past ‘28 surely beckons,
but of all the Amendments, the damn 22nd’s
the reason I’ll have to leave office unwillingly
(There must be an end-run; you know this is killing me…)
My polls are the highest, my fame is white-hot.
And I had one term stolen, in case you forgot.
The economy’s great, with the stock market high.
In the POTUS ranks, folks—I’m your Number One guy.
Now, that pesky Amendment? I’d just like to strengthen it:
forget a third term; take the second and lengthen it.
For those who object, I’d most likely respond that
I’ll rule ‘til I’m dead—and a few years beyond that.
by Chris O’Carroll
Andrew has no more royal titles, since
“Prince of a fella” won’t work for that prince.
by Julia Griffin
“A charismatic, tweed-wearing grower from Perthshire falsely claimed to be able to create thriving tea plantations
in Scotland. His elaborate deception took in luxury hotels, media outlets and tea growers across the country”
—The Guardian
A tweed-wearing grower from Perth
Observed the deplorable dearth
Of local-grown tea
So he grew some (said he),
And he milked it for all he was worth.
The experts first hailed him, but soon
Indignantly altered their tune:
Now shown as a sham,
Mr. Tweed’s in a jam,
And they’re specially sorry in Scone.