“Scientists now know what the head of the biggest bug to ever crawl the Earth looked like” —The Associated Press
A nine-foot-long bug’s head would suit
The ’50s movie scene,
And has now been described, to boot,
In time for Halloween:
It’s bulbous, sprouts antennae, sports
The pop eyes of a crab.
At masked balls you may see all sorts,
From Batman to Queen Mab,
But not with sixty-four long legs
And centipede-like dome.
A costumed Gregor Samsa begs
To be kept hid at home.
“Germans decry influence of English as ‘idiot’s apostrophe’ gets official approval Linguistic body has relaxed rules on use of apostrophe to show possession, not traditionally correct
in German … [T]he punctuation mark [is] colloquially known as the Deppenapostroph (‘idiot’s apostrophe’) “ —The Guardian
The orthographic errors of the grocer
Have long brought English-speakers to our knees;
Nothing, meanwhile, makes Germany moroser
Than giving genitives apostrophes.
If Germans scorn our favoured punctuation,
We anglophones are poorly placed to scoff:
At least they’re still avoiding, in that nation,
Our Lebensmittelhändlersapostroph.
“By recommending that children avoid exposure to peanuts until age 3, doctors
inadvertently turned a rare issue into a major health problem.” —The Wall Street Journal
When I was a child, the doc would command me
to watch out for cookies and Halloween candy.
“And just to be safe, keep an EpiPen handy,”
he’d tell me. “No ifs, ands, or buts.”
Now I can’t have snacks without reading the label.
I’m banished for life to the peanut-free table.
My story is sad, but it’s also a fable:
no glory can come without guts!
If I could embark on a time travel mission
I’d go back and fire that pediatrician.
And when he asked why, I would cite his position:
“You’re right, I’m allergic to nuts.”
“Boris Johnson: We considered ‘aquatic raid’ on Netherlands to seize Covid vaccine” —The Guardian
A plot was hatched at Number 10
By BoJo and his Merry Men
To cross the Channel late at night
And steal vaccine shots—crazy, right?
In retrospect, one has to laugh:
It’s not his worst idea by half.
Oklahoma resident Kody Adams “accused of stealing ambulance to drive to stolen-car court hearing” —The Guardian
One Mr. Adams stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Because the place was very far,
And judgment hour was nearing,
He had to steal an ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
You know the irksome way things are:
The ambulance lacked steering,
And so he stole a minibus,
To take him from the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Bizarre, alas, attracts bizarre:
The bus soon started veering,
And so he stole an army truck,
Because he’d dumped the minibus,
By which he’d left the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
This next you’ll read with mouth ajar.
The truck went crazy, rearing,
And so he stole a private plane,
Abandoning the army truck
He’d used to quit the minibus,
By which he’d left the ambulance,
Required because he stole a car,
And so he had a stolen-car court hearing.
Our Kody was a sort of star:
You can’t refrain from cheering
When after all he went on foot
Because he’d crashed the private plane
Which fell upon the army truck
Which rolled into the minibus
Which knocked downhill the ambulance
Which made the judge forget the car
And let him off the stolen-car court hearing.
“Flight attendants are speaking out against ‘gate lice’… passengers who hover around the gate like insects before it’s their turn to board… However, some defended [the practice]… ‘My son, who was on a… trip from LAS to (O’Hare international airport)… [would have benefited from it].’” —New York Post
Readily, steadily,
gate lice in terminals
opportunistically
gather and stare.
Though they are everywhere,
airport authorities
ought to be keeping them
out of O’Hair.
“Stranded cruise ship finally sails out of Belfast Lough” —BBC
Cruise patrons, poised to circumnavigate Earth’s oceans, weathered four months not at sea, Stuck waiting for repair jobs by the late Titanic’s shipyard on their Villa Vie. Last week, at last, their liner sailed away As far as near the mouth of Belfast Lough. Views from this spot may not be what they pay In spades for. Its more-scenic-than-the-dock Location left the cruisers sighing, “C’est La vie.” They’re philosophical. They’ll wait At anchor happily to spend each day Vacationing till twenty twenty-eight— If no more hiccups strand them far from sea, Expectant, sighing “C’Est La Villa Vie.”
“Moderate amounts of caffeine intake—defined as about three cups of coffee or tea a day—were associated
with a lower risk of developing cardiometabolic multimorbidity, said [a recent] study’s lead author…” —CNN
I love my morning cup of joe. I love that java jive.
And even more so, now I know it’s keeping me alive.
As science goes, I like this kind, so hurry and refill me—
since next week someone else will find that coffee’s going to kill me.
The ever-reliable British gossip magazine Heat reports that Tom Cruise’s inner circle are “increasingly concerned”: “We’re told the 62 year old has become so ensconced in the biohacking world of cryotherapy—wherein
a person immerses themselves in freezing or near-freezing temperatures for roughly three to five minutes,
purportedly to reverse skin ageing, support fat loss, treat inflammation and prevent chronic diseases—that he’s
letting it take over his entire life.” He also takes liquid nitrogen facials, according to the magazine.
Feeling the need, the need to freeze,
he pours liquid nitrogen over his knees,
he gives himself facials with chocolate ice cream,
then ices his eyebrows and lets out a scream,
“I want the youth!”
(He can’t handle the youth!)
Feeling the need, the need to freeze
the progress of age, he quite frequently skis
face down in the snow, and his nurse is so sweet:
he shows her the money, she smears him in sleet,
cos he wants the youth!
(He can’t handle the youth!)
Feeling the need, the need to freeze,
he buys an old hut in the mid-Pyrenees,
he leaps in a bobsled, yells “Give ‘em Mach 10!”
and in the ER, they say, “Not him again!”
cos he wants the youth!
(He can’t handle the youth!)
Feeling the need, the need to freeze,
he smiles as the scientists fleece him for fees,
and a doctor-in-training goes top of her class,
for removing the popsicle stuck up his ass,
cos he wants the youth!
(He can’t handle the youth!)
“Eating grasshoppers has been found to boost sex drive, improve sleep quality, promote healthy hair and help with weight management.” —New York Post
With voice of a ringmaster, baritone loud,
The salesman soon gathers a sizable crowd.
“Do you dread the changes that make you feel old?
Do you wish that youth could be packaged and sold?
Today is your day, and of course I allude
To this edible magical new superfood!
It helps you perform when libido is stalled,
And brings back the hair of the premature bald!
You’ll rise every morning awake and alert,
And lose enough weight for that pencil-thin skirt!
So, curious tourists, and shrewd local shoppers,
Come fill up your baskets with tasty… grasshoppers!
“Apple begins testing AI software designed to bring a smarter Siri to the iPhone… [T]he often
bumbling Siri… will be able to perform more tasks and be less prone to becoming confused…” —The Associated Press
Bumbledy fumbledy,
Siri’s abilities,
good for occasional
chuckles and laughs,
soon will be humming with
hyperefficiency,
ending the era of
Sirious gaffes.
