From the Wall Street Journal. Friday March 23 2018

President Donald Trump threatened Friday morning to veto
a sweeping spending bill just hours after it passed both
chambers of Congress, despite assurances from White
House officials and GOP leaders that he supported it.

Congress may vote as it chooses,

But Trump plans on giving it bruises.

Like some child at game

He vetoes sans shame

Whenever his temper he loses.

Pedestrians were victims of about 15% of traffic fatalities in 2017,
with the estimated 6,000 pedestrian deaths representing a level not seen
in 25 years, according to a report released last month by the Governors
Highway Safety Association.

Pedestrians get in the way

Of traffic most all of the day.

They think a crosswalk

Is someplace to gawk --

So they get squashed like a beret.

The crocodile skin business is booming, with especially strong
demand from Asia, and Australia’s crocs are coveted for their
particularly fine skin patterns—American alligators tend to
have horny backs—and because more of the hide can be used.

A gator came from Adelaide,

Skinned into purses all made

For just the beau monde

To be really conned

By prices blown up like grenade.

How beautiful . . .

. . . and whoso shall publish peace, yea, tidings of great joy,

how beautiful upon the mountains shall they be.

First Nephi. Chapter Thirteen. Verse 37.

The mountainsides rejoice when peace is published in the land.

When people come together and for goodness take a stand.

Though clouds of strife descend upon us in our daily chores,

We know the Prince of Peace will fight our battles, win our wars.

We have but to obey Him and to offer up our hearts

To find in Him protection ‘gainst the adversary’s darts.

As one we are so beautiful in God’s eternal sight

That He will lead us safely to the blessings of His light!

The First Shall be Last

 . . . and the last shall be first, and the first shall be last.

First Nephi. Chapter Thirteen. Verse 42.

In this topsy turvy world there’s one last switch in store

For the rich and haughty, for oppressors of the poor.

Their day of glory falters, and their sun is nearly set;

They’re in for tribulation that they never will forget.

Those in front, established in the best seats will be told

They must recede despite their learning and their bags of gold.

The meek and quiet children of the Lord will take their place,

To feast in adoration neath the Savior’s smiling face.

It may not be tomorrow, or the next day, but it’s coming;

The wings of angels stirs the air with expectant humming!

From the Wall Street Journal. Thursday March 22 2018

General Mills Inc. will raise prices on some meals and snacks

to reflect higher ingredient and shipping costs, as food

companies battle inflationary pressures that are eating into

profits.

My cornflakes grow expensive and my yogurt is too dear;

For breakfast I’ll eat toast that’s stale on which corn oil I’ll smear.

I haven’t had an egg in weeks and hash browns too are pricey.

And coffee? Not a chance at all -- I drink tap water icy.

This ain’t the life of Riley I’ve been told would come to me;

I’m saving for a rainy day, but it drizzles constantly!

Median pay for the chief executives of 133 of the largest

U.S. companies reached an all-time high of $11.6 million in

2017, up from $11.2 million in 2016, a Wall Street Journal

analysis of proxy statement data found.

I wish I was a CEO, with perks out the wazoo;

I’d have my own espresso bar and front seats at the zoo.

I’d own a minor league farm team and bet upon the ponies;

Big charities would use my name when I made them rich phonies.

My office would look out upon the teeming millions that

Had a few shares of the stock that’s making me so fat.

My yearly bonus would put paid to hunger and disease

In many smaller countries (in particular, Belize.)

Yes, if I was a CEO I’d milk that cash cow dry --

Then flit away to Mexico like monarch butterfly!

Americans are relocating to retirement

hot spots scattered around the country

and returning to suburbia, according to

Census Bureau figures released Thursday.

There’s no place I’d rather retire
Than someplace with sturdy barbed wire.
So children would pause
Before their wee claws
Tore up all the blooms I admire.

There currently are about 150 private rail cars

(also called “varnish”) in good enough shape to

be certified to run attached to Amtrak trains in the

U.S., according to the American Association of Private

Railroad Car Owners.

The castanets of railroad tracks beneath the metal floor

Are memories of traveling I’ll cherish evermore.

Cruising on a train is motion civilized and sane;

You’ll never match it in a car, or on a cramped airplane.

A little sway, a jolt or two; it still can make me smile

To think how once so long ago we all could ride in style . . .

From the Washington Post

President Trump did not follow specific warnings
from his national security advisers Tuesday when
he congratulated Russian President Vladi­mir
Putin on his reelection — including a section in
his briefing materials in all-capital letters stating
“DO NOT CONGRATULATE,” according to officials
familiar with the call.

A naughty little president

Broke many rules, and some he bent.

He was told that phone calls to

Russia were a big taboo.

But still he had to grab the phone

And call up Putin all alone.

And when the grownups said ‘no no’

To his porn star gigolo

He just pouted, stamped his feet,

And said words from the potty seat.

Then he made a face and said

‘I wish I’d married her instead!’

He ran away to Asia where

He saw Kim Jung’s underwear.

Leastways that is what he claimed,

When he came back unashamed.

Then he pushed a button red,

And soon there was a million dead.

You naughty little president,

Why do you like to so torment

Your Uncle Sam and make him yell --

When you grow up you’ll go to . . . well,

It’s not a very pleasant place

Where you can’t tweet in any case.

From the New York Times. Wednesday March 21 2018

“Facebook has the attitude that if you are really a good employee
you will live, eat and sleep Facebook,” he said. “That creates
insularity, which is a big problem in Silicon Valley already.”

Welcome to Zucktown, where drudges cavort,

As they quaff kombucha down by the quart.

Their homes are quite modest, but of the best stuff,

The air seems so winsome, with clouds of pearl fluff.

The schools are pitch perfect; the trash doesn’t smell;

The sidewalks are marbled with dainty seashell.

Flowers and trees grow with quiet profusion;

Republicans live in real quiet seclusion.

All workers can walk to their jobs, or commute

On pink bicycles that are lightweight and cute.

They work for long hours, and see not the light

Of sunset when they traipse on home for the night.

In fact there are hammocks and fleecy down cots

To sleep on at work, with soft macrame knots --

So no one need leave their nice office unless

It is for a seminar or tooth abscess.

Even the graveyard is tidy and slick,

And no one is laid there unless they’ve been sick.

So: Welcome to Zucktown, the city that cares

If you have German or Swedish au pairs!

sharp green thorns cooling

sharp green thorns cooling

into white and gentle morn

claw at the brown air

From the Wall Street Journal. Wednesday March 21 2018

The extraordinary legal battle between the president of the

United States and a former adult-film star has been building

for seven years.

A president who won’t resign

To keep the office like a shrine

To all who worship still our state

Of probity, is tempting fate.

No man or woman should presume

That office has such wiggle room

That they can do just as they please

And sport about like loose trained fleas.

When such a person still persists

in keeping idiotic trysts

I think the country ought to be

Prepared to stage a mutiny.

Presidents who don’t behave,

To pleasure still are just a slave,

Deserve to have their ears pinned back

And from our Congress get the sack.

In recent weeks, a frenzy of social-media buzz

whipped Ashley Andersen into a state of jubilation.

A chocolate egg containing a toy, long outlawed in

the U.S., had finally been decriminalized.

At Easter I does always begs

For creamy luscious choc’late eggs.

Nestled in their green grass nest

They are the positively best!

But still I find it hard to swallow

When my choc’late egg is hollow.

Give me nougat, give me jelly --

Something sweet to fill my belly!

Empty choc’late eggs to me

Are just an Easter travesty!

Rumors of War

. . . and in wars and rumors of wars I saw many

generations pass away.

First Nephi. Chapter Twelve. Verse 21.

Scattered round the world as pawns to palsied heads of state,

Soldiers spread the gospel of their military hate.

So many wars and whispers run amok in these last days

That nations dash around like rats inside a twisting maze.

Even my own country, which I love with all my heart,

Is bound to war and menace till all judgement will depart.

My children and their offspring must grow up, it seems to me,

Never knowing peaceful coexistence that’s carefree.

The answer is not arsenals that burst with guns and bombs,

Nor policies that sweep away our fears with dire pogroms.

To place each life beneath the wing of Jesus, Prince of Peace,

Is the only way to make all killing warfare cease.

From the New York Times. Tuesday March 20 2018.

“You feel better eating your food, man,” he added.

Sometimes you just want a meal

That takes you to places unreal;

To childhood retreats

Made up of good eats

That fill you and then help you heal.

Mr. Stamos, who plans to leave Facebook by August,
had advocated more disclosure around Russian
interference of the platform and some restructuring
to better address the issues

In the hinterlands of woe, in the wastes of thorns and snow,

Lurks the Russian troll, dear child; it is mean and fat and wild.

Horns about its scabby head, teeth so sharp they strike you dead,

Breath that stinks of tuna fish -- feet that like young things to squish;

Such a beast do not befriend -- it will be your very end!

Creatures like the Russian troll are not whimsical or droll.

They are crabby as can be; they will burn your Christmas tree.

Sometimes they play hide and seek; sneaking behind passive geek.

But their games are never cute; they are seeking only loot.

Telling lies and making threats are their only real assets.

Little presidents who play with these trolls soon rue the day

They decided they could please such purveyors of black sleaze.

If you give them but an inch you will soon feel their hard pinch.

There is nothing they won’t do if it makes the world turn blue.

So my little friends, beware! These creatures could be anywhere.