“Peter Schickele, Composer and Gleeful Sire of P.D.Q. Bach, Dies at 88” —The New York Times
Farewell, dear Peter Schickele,
The “Sire of P.D.Q.,”
That trickster Bach who, prickly,
Was almost good as you,
But, in a way, your nemesis
(Four Grammys to your one)
For philharmonic emphasis
On cockamamie fun.
“A passenger hid bullets in a baby diaper at New York’s LaGuardia Airport. TSA officers caught him.” —AP
“A typical sniper would not use a diaper,
but I am ingenious,” he gloated.
“My thinking is clever; officials will never
check diapers that someone has loaded.”
However, they caught him and pointedly taught him
a lesson regarding his stash:
“When looking for camo to cover your ammo,
your choice of a diaper was rash.”
“Tornadoes, Blizzards, Floods: Severe Storms Hit Vast Sections of U.S.” —The New York Times
I shoveled snow twice yesterday,
And then again this morning.
Amazing how much snowflakes weigh
When locust-like and swarming.
They brought down branches from my trees.
They’ve made my shoulders sore,
And put cricks in my back and knees.
Plus, shoveling’s a bore.
The news, however, says much worse
Befell my fellows coast to coast.
I’ve suffered, then, no private curse.
Do I feel better now? Almost.
“[T]he journalist and royal commentator Omid Scobie makes an enticing promise [to reveal] ‘some of the darker truths at the heart of the institution of the British monarchy…'” —The New York Times Book Review
“Enticing” isn’t what I’d say.
So what if they’ve got feet of clay?
This royal gossip’s so inane
It’s giving me a royal pain.
“US House Republican says pay bump would attract ‘credible people’ to office” —The Guardian
Raise minimum wage? We are not on that page, But a Congressmen’s paycheck won’t feed us.
Our $180K is a pittance today; Can’t you see, friend, how badly you need us?
A clerk or a waiter can wait till much later To gain a small raise or a perk here,
But we in D.C. crave a shot of esprit— Can’t you see, friend, how hard we all work here?
“Last US lighthouse keeper steps down… Sally Snowman… retires this weekend from her post looking after the first lighthouse built in North America, on a tiny island in Boston harbour…” —The Guardian
The Keeper of the First-Built Light
Departed with the Old Year’s flight:
For as the Old Year turned to flee,
The Keeper felt it bodily;
And as the Keeper’s body bent
It craved a calmer Element;
And since the Elements go on
When human builders all are gone,
And what they build must also go
Like houses lit or men of snow,
Just so the Light must pass at last
The point its Final Keeper passed.
“Pigeon found outside Florida hair salon reunites with owner after 15 months” —WSVN
I’ve heard “rats with wings” amid scurrilous things
Describing the lowly rock dove,
But harming a pigeon would cross my religion
For he may be somebody’s love.
That lawn-wrecking hole might be home to a mole
That’s cherished by someone or other.
Assume every spider might have eggs inside her,
And people admire a mother.
So don’t predetermine that pests are mere vermin
For all may be precious to some,
Except I cast vetoes on grace for mosquitos—
To hell with that bloodsucking scum!
“Here’s a pre-new year prediction: In stores around the nation, children—and their parents— will stand in line to sit on Santa’s lap and beg him to bring them a different presidential race.” —Gail Collins in The New York Times
Dear Santa, When you come this year
we hope you’ll pack your sleigh
with common sense and candidates
prepared to save the day.
The Constitution’s getting old
and looks a little sick—
please send some clever elves to heal
the body politic.
If you’ll bring human rights for all,
we’ll wish for nothing more
and dump the naughty girls and boys
in 2024.
“Colorado thieves ask for lesser charge because items they stole were on sale” —The Guardian
The stuff that we stole was on sale,
Reducing the incident’s scale:
When profits are leaner,
It’s just “misdemeanor”;
We saved a nice sum for our bail.
“Romeo and Juliet, two elderly manatees, get a happy ending For months, Romeo, a sexagenarian manatee, spent his days alone swimming in circles in a small tank at a Miami aquarium. Stuck in another tank was Juliet, also in her 60s, along with a third manatee. … [A] team of veterinarians and animal care specialists this week transported Romeo, Juliet and the other manatee, Clarity, to new homes at ZooTampa and SeaWorld in Orlando, two animal critical care facilities.” —The Washington Post
Two manatees (plus one, to be exact)
From fair Miami (not completely fair)
Have gone to find the freedom that they lacked,
And also proper veterinary care.
Hauled up, then down, with special cranes and cranks,
Soothed into crates (the best that science boasts),
They’ve zoomed upcoast: zoophilites, give thanks!
ZooTampa and SeaWorld are now their hosts.
There they may swim in something more like seas,
And we can feel a certain righteous glow;
Thank manatees, humanity’s at ease:
For never was a story of less woe
Than this of Romeo and his Juliet!
(And also Clarity, let’s not forget.)
