“President Donald Trump’s first actions in the Oval Office included rolling back healthcare policies put forth by former President Joe Biden, including expansions to the Affordable Care Act…” —Fox News
I voted for the MAGA King, Big Don: He’s promised to reduce the price of eggs! And that’s why I don’t care my healthcare’s gone, And probably I’m going to lose my legs.
“Anders Vistisen, a Danish member of the European Parliament, told President Donald Trump to ‘f*** off,’ in response to Trump touting the idea of buying Greenland.” —CNN
Let’s hear it for the Danish. Plain speaking’s for the Dane. Greenland’s been theirs eight hundred years, and theirs it will remain.
And here’s one Dane who says so, Who speaks up for their land, and uses words— a few at least— that Trump can understand.
“The Commander in Chief Ball was only the first of three balls the president planned to stop by… [The balls] are a longtime tradition… The first inaugural ball was held in 1809 for President James Madison…” —USA Today
Normally, formally, incoming presidents dance in extravagant ballrooms and halls.
One could infer that they feel a compulsion to ritualistically show they have balls.
“Men have grown twice as much as women over past century, study shows Data from dozens of countries reveals height and weight differences between sexes have increased since 1900″ —The Guardian
Where are they found, these giant men With mighty torsos, arms, and feet? You’re likely to remember when You’re next assigned a middle seat.
“Yes, a US Senator Displayed Misspelled Poster During Hegseth Confirmation Hearing” —Snopes
Oh, sht, Misery’s Senatr Has spelt it “MILTARY”? Our military must defer And redo, yessiree, They’re signage, so it shal agree With MAGA poster buoys. If eny fuel dere disagree, Beewear hume he annoise.
“Chimney sweeps asked to park away from customer homes, due to wood-burning stove embarrassment” —LBC
Please, Chimney Sweep, don’t park your sooty van At my front door when sweeping out my flue: Remain as incognito as you can. Keep mum about particulates I spew. A Brighton Council ad campaign upbraids Wood-burning stoves for dirtying clean air, And if folks learned I’m burning wood in spades, You’d cause embarrassment beyond repair For me—I beg you, park away from me … Relax. No sweat. I’ll paint my van: the phrase “Orchestral Coach” will blot out “Sweep” and be My cover, this old tuba case conveys My tools … and you must sound this tuba—or, Embarrassment may threaten like before!
“Rats get taste for drugs in Houston evidence room” —The Guardian
Hey Templeton, you lazy little sot, In Houston there’s a sight you’ve got to see: a Warehouse full of confiscated pot All locked up tight (I’ll bet there’s sinsemilla).
Let’s hop a freight and raid that sticky stash, Then party till we cannot walk or stand. It’s Bound to make us famous in a flash: Two barnyard rats, two crafty contrabandits!
“Japan aquarium cheers up lonely sunfish by taping photos of human faces to its tank: Staff had noticed that the sunfish was showing signs of distress after the aquarium was closed for refurbishment… A day after [the taping] the fish regained its appetite and looked generally more content, according to the Mainichi Shimbun [newspaper].” —The Guardian
In this bleak week, I’ve learned a fix, And Tokyo’s to thank, Where one sad fish was cheered by pics Of humans on its tank.
Inspired by this, I hereby wish The next four years to be A vista of contented fish, Taped over my TV.
“Joe Biden Warns of ‘Tech Industrial Complex’ In Farewell Speech…” —Deadline
I’m old and still remember Ike’s Grim warning to our land. The complexhe named drove in spikes And built just as they’d planned. The tech lords too will stake their plot And rule it. But thanks, Joe. Another “complex”? Well, why not? Let’s stay and watch the show.
“Trump Names Sylvester Stallone, Mel Gibson and Jon Voight as ‘Special Ambassadors’ to ‘Troubled’ Hollywood: They’ll Bring ‘Lost Business’ Back” —Variety
Yes, all that we need to get showbiz on track Are three geriatric “Ambassadors”; This will for certain bring Hollywood back! Well, this—and a few flux capacitors.
“Hiring a private fire crew costs thousands of dollars a day… Some wealthy property owners are calling them in directly.” —The New York Times
For corporate investors, famous actors and their ilk, I’ll don the red suspenders of asbestos-woven silk. For I’m the firefighter of the rich and well-connected, Where houses shown in magazines are rightfully protected.
With tunic by Armani, matched with flame-retardant pants, I use the finest water from a mountain stream in France. Oh, how I love to hear the children’s happy little voices, When thanking me for saving their Jacuzzis and Rolls Royces.
“Volkswagen van that survived Palisades fire in Los Angeles is a ‘beacon of hope'” —The Guardian
The hippies knew A thing or two: VW vans Are maybe man’s Best motor deal. So much appeal: No speed, no tricks, But cheap to fix; No muss, no fuss, This microbus, And now we learn The thing won’t burn!
“The annual No Trousers Tube Ride event has returned in colourful fashion as people stripped down to their underwear and hopped on the London Underground.” —The Guardian
The annual No Trousers Tube Ride Is booming as never before! Don’t stand there and blush like a new bride: Just push those bare legs through the door! The suavest, most chic city slickers, The veriest bumpkin and rube Are stripping to long johns and knickers And hopping half-nude on the Tube!
The yearly untrousered commuting Gives joy to the brightest and best, From Cockfosters southwards to Tooting, From Barking to Slough in the west. We gape at the garters some slyboots Is flourishing, pert and overt: (It’s not thought the thing to wear thigh boots, Or even a scrap of a skirt).
The trouserless troglodyte transport Cares nothing for sleet or for snow: The feet of each woman and man sport Wet socks with a vaporous glow. What brainwave could serve as a segue? What vision could match it in pride? It’s making such headway, such legway, This rousing, no-trousering ride!
“Male stripper reveals ‘crazy’ cheating trend for brides…’” —New York Post
Tell me, My Darling, I’m dying to know: how did your bachelorette party go? All innocent fun with the ladies, I swear! They gave me a sash and tiara to wear. We nibbled hors d’ oeuvres and went light on the sauce. You play any games? A little ring toss…