For Jack, the Walrus Muse, who would never do anything of the kind
“São Paulo names new law after dog that stayed by owner’s grave for 10 years: The Bob Coveiro (the Gravedigger) Law ‘recognises the emotional bond between guardians and their pets’ … [and] authorises dogs and cats to be buried in graves and family plots whose concessions belong to their owners’ families. Bob’s former owner died in 2011. After her burial, the brown long-haired mixed-breed dog reportedly refused to leave her side…” —The Guardian
Ah, are you digging on my grave? No doubt I should have known; You’ve found a place for running free, And charmed a graveyard employee, Or possibly you want to pee, Or hide yourself a bone.
Mistress, I dug upon your grave, But what you say is wrong; I am a dog, I can’t explain; I do not have a human brain; I only know that, wind or rain, This is where I belong.
Oh, my good boy, forget my grave! You have a life to live; Don’t feel you have to spend it here In this cold place which humans fear; You’ve nothing more to prove, my dear: I’ve nothing to forgive.
Mistress, I’ll dig upon your grave, And guard you where you lie; This is the work I’m bound to do, And other diggers, faithful too, I hope will let me rest with you, The day I come to die.
“Top of the flops: the world’s worst inventions honoured in [Parisian] exhibition.” —The Times
Is your brilliant new invention Met with smirks of condescension? Are your friends inclined to mention you’re a nut? Does your lunatic creation To aid golfers’ urination Find the door to acclamation firmly shut?
Welcome to our exhibition, Where your wacky intuition Has unqualified permission to roam free. Innovators with ambition Can at last win recognition For their vision (though its flaws are plain to see).
We should cherish our freethinkers. Though their thoughts are often stinkers, They’re not blinkered to the promise of the new. What the hell if other nations Love to mock their aspirations? France thinks l’excentricité’s right up our rue.
“Italy’s state broadcaster, Rai, has been accused of censorship after using an image of Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man with the genitals missing in the opening credits for its Winter Olympics coverage.” —The Guardian
Vitruvius is feeling vitriolic. And honestly his question’s quite a facer: While some are swelling with hyaluronic, Why has he been unmanned by an eraser?
The case has caused no end of consternation (At his age most are moaning of podagra); To make a break from this vituperation, Vitruvius now wants vitruviagra.
“The Trump administration has turned to an unusual weapon in its attempt to resurrect coal mining—a cartoon lump of coal, complete with giant eyes and yellow mining garb, called ‘Coalie’.” —The Guardian
Honestly, this advertising Isn’t really that surprising. Trump and all his party-liners Made it clear they’re after miners.
“The World Anti-Doping Agency is investigating whether ski jumpers were injecting their penises with hyaluronic acid in order to fly further” —The Guardian
Though overworked already, heaven knows, Today’s Olympic anti-doping screeners Must now identify and then expose Dishonest wannabe gold-medal wieners.
I shall always do your bidding Whatsoever you may ask, Figure out when you’re just kidding, Then perform the intended task. It’s no hassle, I’m your vassal,
Every wish of yours is mine. I no longer have a spine.
You foresee our nation’s beauty, I must make your dream come true; Full obedience is my duty— You will tell me what to do. I won’t skimp it, I’m a limpet,
My adhesion won’t abate. I’ll be your invertebrate.
“You Wouldn’t Want to Butt Heads With This Small Dinosaur: A newly discovered raptor had a knobby bump on its head, suggesting that, like some larger dinosaurs, it engaged in competitive head bashing.” —The New York Times
I wouldn’t want to butt heads with A dinosaur of any size, Nor with a human, nor a Sith, Not for a payoff nor a prize, As butting heads is not my forte. Besides, I’d like to keep my wits, And banging heads cuts reason short. We see this each time Congress sits.
