“I’m saying this horse knew me,” Neeson said… “He actually remembered me from another western we made a while back … He whinnied when he saw me. And pawed the ground.” —The Guardian
Liam? Ah yes. I perfectly recall
How I observed him hanging round my stall
All through the shoot… It was a Western, so
We needed humans (all quite safe, you know!).
So now he’s back? I hope I’m not aloof;
I can’t, however, claim I raised my hoof
At his return—and let me, if I may,
State categorically, I did not neigh.
Still, never mind. I’m happy to provide
A co-performer with a source of pride;
For they have feelings too, let’s not forget:
The animals one works beside on set.
How do you make the case
For Kavanaugh on SCOTUS?
Just whitewash the disgrace,
The ranting that took place,
The lying to your face,
And hope no one will notice.
“The next time you’re standing at the edge of a scenic cliff or on top of a waterfall, take care before snapping a quick selfie. It could be the last thing you do.”—The Washington Post
I’ll just stand here. This should look great!
A little to the left. But wait.
Back up a little. Then they’ll see…
A little more. Right here. Aieeeeee…..
So racist. So sexist. So partisan, no?
So two-faced. So glib. So “how low can we go?”
So vicious. So cruel. So “we’d-rather-not-know.”
So baldly dishonest. So soulless. So faux.
So “ubi est mea?” (It’s all ‘bout the dough.)
So intolerant, crude. So unwilling to grow.
So shameless. So wrong. So unprincipled…whoa!
Is this who we are? Well…apparently so.
“. . . the wealth-creating sector of the economy. The people who get up at the crack of dawn to prepare their shops. The grafters and the grifters, the innovators, the entrepreneurs.” —Boris Johnson speech
How apt that while getting his fix
Of plaudits and sound bites and pix He appears to extol Those whose principal role
Is the playing of confidence tricks.
“’We were just sitting out in the middle of the ocean and then this huge male seal appeared with an octopus and he was thrashing him about for ages,’ Mulinder told the news channel. ‘I was like ‘mate, what just happened?’ It was weird because it happened so fast but I could feel all the hard parts of the octopus on my face.’”—The Guardian
Mulinder was a paddle king, his kayaking was great,
He liked to sit with sea all round and call the creatures “mate”;
He kayaked with his camera, aquatic as a plaice,
Until the day eight tentacles unfurled across his face.
His face was full of octopus—he had no time to dodge; Like some prehensile blunderbuss, it landed with a splodge. It did not act with animus, it showed a certain grace, That octopodic incubus that flipped him in the face.
A mollusk-flinging seal had caught Mulinder off his guard:
He had not known an octopus had parts so very hard.
He scratched his newly-slimy head. “What happened, mate?” he cried;
And wincing at the syllable the whiskered one replied:
“Your face is full of octopus; here’s why I had you sluiced: I’m not your mate—you’re human, plus we’ve not been introduced. I see no need to flap and flail; I think I’ve made my case; Don’t make me find a killer whale to flip you in the face.”
Some drunken dry humping, a tool to the face—
These party tricks might have been wrong.
But our Party can trust women’s rights in the hands
Of a judge with an activist schlong.
Earlier this year, Sergei Skripal, a former Russian military officer and double agent for the UK’s intelligence services, was poisoned in Salisbury, England. The two Russian suspects, who were in the UK for a total of 48 hours, now claim to have only been tourists wanting to see Salisbury Cathedral with its 123-meter spire. They decided not to visit nearby Stonehenge because of “muddy slush everywhere.” The implausibility of their alibi has been widely mocked.
Forget Big Ben, the London Eye, the Palace, and the Tower,
For Salisbury Cathedral is the landmark of the hour.
From Moscow it’s a mere three thousand kilometer hop,
Ideal for time-strapped tourists wanting just a two-day stop.
It’s proud to boast the tallest spire there is to see in Britain,
The best-kept copy of the Magna Carta ever written,
A working clock perhaps as old as 1386—
This church is truly one of England’s top vacation picks.
Be wary if you’re from the balmy climes of Russia, though:
Your trip to Stonehenge may be foiled by half an inch of snow.
“A tale of five squirrels: vets untangle ‘Gordian Knot’ of… animals’ tails that became entwined with each other and their nest ‘You can imagine how wiggly and unruly … this frightened, distressed ball of squirrelly energy was…’ the [wildlife] centre wrote on its Facebook page.'”— The Guardian
Imagine how unruly? Ah, for sure:
And I imagine “less” gave place to “more” …
“This nest’s so nice! The weather’s quite divine!
—Excuse me, ma’am: I think this tail is mine.”
“The nest indeed is charming! Just a minute:
I rather fear your tail has my tail in it.”
“I grant the weather’s fine, but really, ugh!
Please free my tail or I’ll be forced to tug.”
“I do not blame the air, or nest, or bough,
But that was not your tail you tugged, and—ow!”
“Excuse me, eek! I’ve scaled my last birdfeeder!
Yikes! where’s the Farmer’s Missus when you need her… ???”
Imagination-wise, I’m thus fulfilled:
So now let’s praise those vets so kind and skilled,
Wisconsin’s steadiest, through whose travails,
Five scrambled squirrels live to tell their tales.
“AUSTIN — History curriculum in Texas remembers the Alamo but could soon forget Hillary Clinton and Helen Keller. … Eliminating Clinton from the requirements will save teachers 30 minutes of [yearly] instructional time, the work group estimated, and eliminating Keller will save 40 minutes.”—Dallas News
Remembering the Alamo,
Where Texas was de-Mexed,
We’re going to guard the status quo
In every Texas text,
Except for stuff that won’t be missed:
It’s really been a crime,
The cost of Keller, socialist,
To Texas teachers’ time;
And when it comes to Crooked Hill,
The Lone Star State can boast
We put her through the Texas mill,
And now she’s Texas toast.
