by Chris O’Carroll
Come into my Oval parlor.
(I’m the fly and you’re the spider.)
I’m important, I get briefings,
I’m a beautiful insider.
No one’s bigger, no one’s smarter,
No one knows more secret stuff.
No one spills the beans like I do.
Please admire me enough.
by Edmund Conti
The Donald decided to pillory
The Director with heavy artillery,
Declaring that Comey
Could not be his homey
Because he was mean to poor Hillary.
by James Hamby
“Your chains resemble mine,” said Ailes’s ghost
To Bill O’Reilly, the former Fox News host.
“So think of this, before your life’s expired!”
O’Reilly thought, then stated, “I was fired
For seeing women only as good lays;
Perhaps I should repent and change my ways…”
But Ailes’s Ghost cried, “You misunderstand!
Harass them all! Get pleasure while you can!”
by David Hedges
As with every move The Donald’s made,
His pick for envoy to the Holy See
Defies credulity. It’s retrograde
To taunt the Pontiff with impiety.
Forethought ordains an envoy versed in God,
A diplomat whose creds are Simon-pure.
Why did Callista Gingrich get the nod?
Was she the only soul he could procure,
A cinch to gain Republican acclaim?
The third and so far current wife of Newt,
The flake who flipped and flopped his way to fame
As Speaker of the House of Ill Repute,
Callista was his mistress, an escape
From holy matrimony’s bonds. The Pope
is bound to get his nose bent out of shape.
What does The Donald take him for, a dope?
This Shepherd isn’t one to fleece his flock
Or plunder nations to assuage caprice.
Unlike The Donald, Francis walks his talk
And has a pipeline to the Prince of Peace.
Is Trump rewarding Naughty Newt because
He flogged Bill Clinton for the escapade
With Monica (despite no broken laws),
While he himself played footsie with an aide,
None other than Callista? Their affair
Was overlooked upon The Hill, though why,
God only knows. (Why would reporters care,
When they had Bill, a bigger fish, to fry?)
Number Two was mistress when the first
Of Newt’s three wives was licit. Number Four
Might well be waiting in the wings to burst
Upon the scene through Newt’s revolving door.
This theory may illuminate the deal
Newt cut: “You send Callista off to Rome,
While I stay home to test my sex appeal.
She’ll be content to climb Saint Peter’s Dome.”
by Mae Scanlan
In France’s vote, across the boards,
Macron was chosen by the hordes,
Which goes to prove that once again
The horde is mightier than Le Pen.
by Jane Blanchard
May I propose a tweet-free day
So that we might be spared
Un-Presidential rants or raves
Much better left unshared?
Imagine how the nation and
The world could benefit
If only we hashtagged a few
Less tweets of such a twit.
by David Hedges
NASA’s Saturn probe produced results
Observers weren’t expecting in their dreams
(Commoner events engender cults).
The northern polar region sports, it seems,
A hexagon that science can’t explain,
A geometric shape that has no match
In all the universe, such strange terrain,
It forces top astronomers to scratch
Their astral noggins, rack their brains (mistakes
Can cost them research money). Theories flow:
A hex nut that a space mechanic takes
A wrench to every umpteen years or so?
A honeycomb? A fractal flower head?
A column of basalt? Some kryptonite?
A colony of aliens who fled
Their planet at the dying of the light?
by Chris O’Carroll
Steve said a mouthful of naughty
About Don with a mouthful of Vlad.
The gang at the Pussy Grab fan club
Takes a dim view of smut. #Sad!
by Edmund Conti
With every stipend
Bank accounts ripened…
by Mae Scanlan
Says Trump, “Kim Jong Un is a pretty smart cookie,”
And he “would be honored to meet him.”
Our leader is such an incompetent rookie,
One wonders why nobody beat him.
And now he’s invited the Philippine prez
(A tyrant) to come here and talk;
Each word our ridiculous president says
Elicits a loud global squawk.
If Vlad the Impaler were back on the scene,
Along with Attila the Hun,
Trump would invite them both over to glean
His Floridian Place in the Sun.
by Chris O’Carroll
Old Hickory could have headed off that war,
Maybe by shrewd Trump-like negotiation.
(We know he was too tough to go in for
Some liberal failure like emancipation.)
Perhaps he would have built a wall between
The North and South to keep the war at bay,
Or cut the taxes that the Bowling Green
Massacre had made slave owners pay.
No one has worked out why the war was fought.
No scholars have explored that mystery.
Thank goodness Donald’s giving it some thought
As he and Andrew rewrite history.
by Jerome Betts
(Council elections in England, Wales
and Scotland on the 4th of May 2017)
He was sent to get facts for a piece
In a key rural seat, eve of polling.
Signs of swing down to lack of police?
The debate about badger-controlling?
After hours in the old Fox and Geese
He reported: “The countryshide’s rolling!”
by David Hedges
When Donald Trump first met Theresa May,
He clasped her outstretched hand and pulled her tight,
Mumbling the sorts of nothings he might lay
On bright-eyed bimbos in the dead of night.
He pulled the same faux pas with Shinzō Abe,
Though faux pas’s absent from The Donald’s lexis.
It’s not like calling someone kemosabe
Or pardner or compadre in West Texas.
A body language expert boiled it down
To alpha male behavior. Power and sex.
The pull, the pat, the smirk, the circus clown
Burlesque, the slow withdrawal, meant to vex.
He added Netanyahu to the notches
Carved where he keeps track of crude behavior.
(He fills in scorecards when he’s groping crotches.)
Republicans are calling him their Savior.
by Edmund Conti
Donald Trump, our latest sage,
Waning, sometimes waxing,
Has his plan on a single page.
I guess it won’t be taxing.
by Mae Scanlan
Yikkity yakkity,
Kellyanne Conway was
One of the staples of
Cable TV.
Lately we’ve not seen her
Telecommunicate;
That was on orders from
Powers that Be.
She was a chatterbox,
Kellyanne Conway was,
Till she began to flog
Jared’s wife’s wares.
That was a no-no, so
Unhesitatingly
She was admonished (if
Anyone cares).