“Senior Chinese Diplomat Says It’s His ‘Duty’ to Pull a Protester’s Hair” —VICE
I shall do my duty
With unremitting care.
No napping on the QT:
I’m constantly aware
Of all those snide and snooty
Protesters and their hair;
So I shall do my duty
Until their heads are bare.
When you gobble up a star
You’ll be less than popular:
Undigested spheroids will
Repeat on you;
Since that hot, plasmatic mass
Obviously gives you gas,
When you gobble up a star
Your fans are few.
See this lens we’re peering through?
You are vividly in view:
When you gobble up a star,
Please learn to chew.
“The implications [of research on black holes] are mind-bending, including the possibility that our three-dimensional universe—and we ourselves—may be holograms” —The New York Times
“O, that this too too solid flesh would melt”—
Only, it isn’t solid. What we felt
Was nothing, since we’re nothing. Not such stuff
As dreams are made on even. Man, it’s tough!
“[Members of] the climate change–focused group Just Stop Oil threw tomato soup on van Gogh’s Sunflowers… . Then the activists glued themselves to the wall under the painting. … [Some people were] asking what van Gogh did to hurt the climate.” —ArtNews
Loopily, soupily,
climate-change activists
gain some supporters, but
others conclude
some of their tactics might
seem to suggest they are
counterproductively
coming unglued.
Moodily, broodily,
Vincent of Netherlands
might have been totally
vexed and said, “Gosh,
I can stop oil any
time if I switch to a
non-oleaginous
method like gouache.”
“US doctor removes 23 contact lenses stuck in eye like ‘stack of pancakes’ The patient … complained about feeling something foreign in her eye” —The Guardian
That’s worse than 23 half-specs,
One ventures.
Let’s hope an expert also checks
Her dentures.
With apologies to T.S. Eliot (also to A. Lloyd Webber and R. Kipling)
“Larry the Cat outlasts fourth U.K. prime minister… The 15-year-old tabby dutifully serves as Chief Mouser of No. 10 Downing Street…” —NPR
There’s a whisper through that door, though it’s just day 44,
That the PM is ready to split.
Ah, but “Larry where is Larry, is he off with Meg and Harry?
We must find him or the boss can’t quit.”
Videographers, reporters, and our newsrooms’ sons and daughters
Are searching high and low
Crying, “Larry stop your messing, this event requires your blessing—
A PM can’t just go!”
At 11:42 the announcement’s nearly due
When Larry’s spotted circling someone’s shin,
And the people cheer and sing ‘God Save the Queen … uh … King,’
As a friendly cop comes out to take him in.
And Larry flails his twirly tail
And daintily wipes his mouth,
To signal us off to the southernmost part
Of “another one goes south.”
Then he gives a twitch of his whiskered nose
To say: “’Til next time we meet!
I’ll see you again when the next one goes—
I’m The Cat of Downing Street.”
“Sarcasm banned as China cracks down on its surly civil servants” —The Telegraph
It seems that Chinese bureaucrats from Beijing to Shanghai
Were insolent, aggressive and (I cannot fathom why)
Averse to the philosophy of service with a smile,
And laughable suggestions they should go the extra mile.
But now that their hostility and failure to perform Have been attacked, they’re rowing back from rudeness as the norm.
Observe the verve with which they serve, their faces bright and eager,
Dispensing tea and bonhomie (unless you are a Uighur).