Prose Poem: The Bank Teller.

 

I had to go to the bank to get a roll of quarters.

To do my laundry.

The teller was a very nice young woman.

She had a lovely smile.

She got me my roll of quarters,

then asked if I would be interested in 

a car loan.

"I don't drive anymore" I told her.

"Do you need a second mortgage,

or a reverse mortgage?" she asked politely.

"No thank you" I replied. "I'm trying to stay

out of debt."

She gave me another lovely smile,

then wrote something down on a

yellow legal pad.

"What are you writing?" I asked her.

"I'm making notes for my MBA class

on marketing" she told me.

"About me?"

"Well, yes" she said. "You show 

remarkable sales resistance."

"Oh, do I?" I said, suddenly very pleased 

with myself.

"Yes, you do" she replied. Then hesitated,

looking down and then back up at me.

"Would you mind answering a few

questions for me -- for my class?" she asked.

"Of course!" I said gallantly. "Anything to advance

your education!"

So she took me into a back room to

ask me all sorts of questions about my 

spending habits and attitude towards

debt. She took copious notes.

When we were done she thanked me

effusively.

I was so overcome by her attention --

I'm a widower of many years --

that I went ahead and took out

a car loan -- for my daughter;

she's driving an old wreck that's

going to fall apart any day now.

And I applied for a reverse mortgage, too.

I've always wanted to put in a backyard

hot tub.

She shook my hand warmly and tenderly.

Even though that's against the rules nowadays.

I couldn't help myself: I asked her to marry me.

She was very sympathetic, and let me down easy.

She had to get her MBA first, she said.

"Then we can talk about a relationship" she

finished, handing me a brochure on investing

in Bitcoin and gently pushing me out the door.

I got back in the nursing home van and sat down

with a knowing smile

that drove the old ladies sitting up front

crazy.

"You look like the cat that swallowed the canary"

said one of them.

"I almost did" I told her smugly. "Do any of you

gals need quarters?" 

Photo Essay: Experiments in Collage. Vol. 9

 

TImericks from today's Washington Post.

 

Trump’s dubious tax gambit fizzles, as even red states balk.

Even the rednecks can see

Trump's tax plans are lunacy.

He'll bypass the laws

to play Santa Claus,

till he gets the old third degree.

Facing backlash, Netflix defends ‘Cuties’ as ‘social commentary’ against sexualizing young girls.

Nothing succeeds like young sex,

so Netflix is cashing big checks

because now and then

the dirty old men

like to get steam on their specs.

‘Worst case scenarios’ at Sturgis rally could link event to 266,000 coronavirus cases, study says.

Restraint ain't a biker's ideal.

The virus to them's no big deal.

They gathered and spread

disease without dread --

Their conduct is that of an eel.

Timericks from stories in today's New York Times.

 

As Clock Ticks, Trump Engulfs Himself in Chaotic News Cycles.

When a president begins

tweeting naught but trash and sins,

he will find the spotlight thus

fixed on him producing pus.

If he's given one more chance,

I wonder -- will he keep his pants?

Dated 1920, a Postcard Finally Gets Delivered.

The mail will get through; never fret!

But maybe they won't break a sweat;

after it's sorted

it will be transported

by tortoise or sloth, but not jet!

Timericks from stories in today's Wall Street Journal.

 

Hopes Fade for New Stimulus Checks, Federal Jobless Aid.

Congress moves with lightning speed

when the rich are in great need.

But when common folk grow poor,

Congress answers with a snore.

Thus we see that legislators

only work for large donators.

AUTONOMOUS ROBOTS ARE COMING TO THE OPERATING ROOM.

When surgery is necessary

robots will be making merry

with the scalpel and the gauze --

slicing, dicing, without pause.

I would rather cyborgs stay

from my tonsils far away!

Private Texas Border Wall Will Fall Into Rio Grande, Opponents Say

Like the walls of Jericho

border walls to heck will go.

When the engineers are done,

Mother Nature has her fun;

flooded out or earthquake shook,

they're condemned by the Good Book.

Photo Essay: Experiments in Collage. Vol. 8

 

Timericks from stories in today's Washington Post

 

End of an era: E! announces ‘Keeping Up With the Kardashians’ will air final season next year.

And so all mournful Trashian

will have no more Kardashian.

The brawls and scandals soon will cease

and big screen TV will have peace.

What to buy and what to wear

no longer will be their sole care.

They'll have to find some work that's real:

May I suggest they sell fish meal?

Coronavirus cases spike among school-age children in Florida, while state orders some counties to keep data hidden.

Little Johnny cannot read;

and his lungs may start to bleed.

When his teacher starts to cough

still a mask he does not doff.

Little Johnny isn't naughty;

he just needs to use the potty.

 Angels lift him to the skies,

while the school board shuts its eyes.

Hot new job title in a pandemic: ‘Head of remote work’

Now your boss is far away

(and let's hope he stays that way!)

So a new boss takes his place,,

with a smile upon his face.

He (or she) looks at your screen

and can tell where you have been;

playing solitaire all day,

or a slave to Frito-Lay.

Napping, reading, writing poems --

he knows if we work in our homes.

So beware this cyber fink,

or you'll get the slip that's pink!

Timericks from stories in today's New York Times.

 

Manhattan’s Office Buildings Are Empty. But for How Long?

See the ghostly working place

disappear without a trace.

Corporations have decided

office space must be derided.

Rental agents in Manhattan

watch their income quickly flatten.

Landlords who need sympathy

won't be getting it from me.

N.Y. Will Move Homeless Men From Liberal Neighborhood After Backlash.

As a concept, homeless folk

are not taken as a joke.

But if they move in way too close

they are shunned as way too gross.

I can love them distantly;

just don't let them close to me.

Trump, Calling Himself ‘the No. 1 Environmental President,’ Green Washes His Record.

'Greenwash' is a term that's new

to me, and it sounds coo-coo.

Yet when Trump's the story fodder,

there is no such thing as 'odder.'

Trump's about as green as coal,

or a pulsating black hole.

Timericks from stories in today's Wall Street Journal.

 

U.S. Stock Futures Rise After Tech Selloff

Stocks and bonds that fluctuate

nothing but great stress create.

I'm so risk averse, it seems,

that I'm always sweating streams.

So instead of Wall Street dread

I keep my money in my bed!

Trump Is Targeting the Suburbs, But They’re Not All Alike.

Suburbs lost their shopping malls.

And they've spurned their Barbie dolls.

They are wising up to things

and have cut their apron strings.

So if Trump still wants their vote

he will have to drain his moat.

A four-legged robot is prowling Ford’s 2-million-square-foot plant to map the space, freeing up engineers for other tasks.

Robot dogs are here at last;

they don't rest and they are fast.

They don't leave behind a mess;

and they never bark, I guess.

But they never will play catch

or sit down to have a scratch.

Don't give kids a robot dog;

they prefer one analog.

Foolish and blind guides

 

"How long will ye suffer yourselves to be led by foolish and blind guides?"

Helaman 13:29

Wisdom and righteousness hide

in plain sight, so anxious to guide

the humble and meek

who earnestly seek

the spirit of God without pride.