“Mark Zuckerberg has raised eyebrows by commissioning a giant sculpture of his wife, Priscilla Chan. … Chan is rendered in green and appears to be mid-stride, with a large silver cloak flowing behind her. … Zuckerberg… recently post[ed] a video of him surfing while wearing a tuxedo and holding an American flag.” —The Guardian
Behold Priscilla, in a goddess-attitude:
A towering spectacle of caryatitude;
Now mark how Mark, the Internet torpedo,
Bestrides the surf, flag raised, in full tuxedo.
These images are overwhelming. Which is
A finer sign of super-human riches?
See two philanthropists to scare Attila:
Hail the united fortunes of Zuckzilla!
Fat cat, fat cat, posting shite
In the cybersphere at night
And exchanging ego-strokes
With the fan of Diet Cokes
Who scents more deals in “property”
In melting ice and rising sea.
X/Twitter boss, doyen of dumb,
The globe’s on course to kingdom come
From gas and oil’s bouquet of fumes,
Heat trapped beneath its toxic plumes:
What satiric hand or eye
Can match your folly as we fry?
“How Two Stranded Astronauts Are Camping Out in Space” —Time
They’re “roughing it,” in Mark Twain style,
With grit, good humor, and a smile,
Where, were it you or I, we’d fold,
Complaining of the heat, the cold,
The lack of privacy, the grub,
The distance from the nearest pub—
Not Butch and Suni! Nope, they’re tough,
Two “campers” made of righteous stuff.
“Technically, Thompson’s right hallux [big toe] was the first body part to complete this Olympic final. But finish lines only recognise the chest. Lyles won gold by five thousandths of a second, quicker than the time it takes to blink.” —The Independent
The finish lines just recognize the chest.
They cavalierly disregard the rest,
Like Mr. Thompson’s charging dextral hallux
(It seems this word does not require italux).
It does make sense. However much diminished,
Until your chest goes still, you are not finished;
For Mr. Thompson, though, his brief elation
Must now appear a sad halluxination.
“Italian gymnast Giorgia Villa has sent fans wild with her photos posing with Parmigiano-Reggiano (parmesan) cheese taken when she had a cheesemaker sponsorship deal. …. The gymnast is seen in her leotard, sitting on a pile of giant wheels of cheese, and doing the splits over a line of the wheels.” —CNN
Grazie molto, signorina!
Truly, we have never seen a
handstand done with such élan
atop a wheel of parmesan.
Your agile leaps, your daring vaults,
and graziosa somersaults,
have helped Italia to grow
the sales of our formaggio.
Belissima! We never knew
cheesemongers came as cute as you.
(The lesson is, when selling parm,
a little cheesecake does no harm.)
“King Charles III bestows royal title on rare golden goat breed.” —The Associated Press
The Guernsey girls are sewing night and day to make the coat
To carry the escutcheon of their Royal Golden Goat.
A bovine baroness has been rehearsing how to bow:
The latest peer in Cumbria—a Whitbred Shorthorn cow.
Supporting aristocracy, the populace of Wales
Are seeking gooey mantles to adorn Llyn Tegid’s snails.
And Scottish hearts beat faster now the Manxshearwater flea
Has made the recent Honours List: it’s earned the CBE.
But pride in our nobility won’t reach its full extent
Till owls are picked as members of the British Parliament.
“Fish That School Together Save Energy, Study Finds” —The New York Times
Another school day, my life wasting away—
Two fins and a tail in the crowd.
Each day in the shoal, the sheer lack of control
Is leaving me weakened and cowed.
How I long to be free, to discover the sea,
From trenches to eddying reefs,
Ride seahorses’ tails, sing duets with the whales
And question my school-taught beliefs.
Today is my chance—I’ll embrace the expanse,
Before I’m completely stir-crazy!
Ah, who am I kidding? Those depths look forbidding
And frankly, I’m simply too lazy.
“Eau de Fido: Dolce & Gabbana launches luxury perfume for dogs.” —The Times
There is no if or but,
A malodorous mutt
Is a creature it’s best not to meet.
But my God! On what grounds
Can a perfume for hounds
Be decently sold on the street?
Yet a king of couture
Has come up with a “cure,”
To ensure darling Fido won’t stink.
He thinks his solution
Beats simple ablution.
The fellow should visit a shrink!
This distasteful debut
Is a step, in my view,
On the road to olfactory Hell.
From dachshund to husky,
Let’s keep our mutts musky,
And doggedly au naturel.
“More Chinese swimmers [who] secretly tested positive… for trace amounts of an anabolic steroid… were cleared [by] the Chinese Anti Doping Agency (CHINADA)… The World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) later confirmed the basic details of the report… [The case] has sent ripple effects throughout the anti-doping community. …
[T]he U.S. Anti-Doping Agency [USADA]… repeatedly [said the WADA attempted] to sweep the Chinese doping cases under the rug.” —USA Today
“Pole Vaulter Alysha Newman Twerks After Winning Medal at Paris Olympics” —People
She clears the bar then wiggle-wags her booty.
Athleticism is a thing of beauty.
The dance in which she chooses to indulge
Reminds us sport’s not all about the bulge.
Olympian’s an every-gender role.
A vaulter can soar high without a pole.
