Tim Torkildson's Clown Alley

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Your Recycling Gets Recycled, Right? Maybe, or Maybe Not

Plastics and papers from dozens of American cities and towns are being dumped in landfills after China stopped recycling most “foreign" garbage. NYT

Oh, we sent our trash to China but they didn’t want the mess.

They told us they were sorry, but they’re planting watercress.

Our dirty rags and paper were too filthy for their taste,

So we’d have to find another dump to take our poison waste.

We sailed the seven oceans looking for another hole,

But no one could we threaten, bribe, or smilingly cajole.

The nations turned their backs on us, refusing Uncle Sam --

We were in a pickle, not to say a rotten jam!

When nobody was looking, all our garbage ships released

Their stinking cargoes in far waters that were not policed.

But Neptune came up foaming, wroth as only gods can be,

To send our garbage sailors back unto our own country.

And so the rubbish piled up in our cities and our lanes,

Until we shipped it all out to the desolate Great Plains.

The prairie dogs expired and the wheat fields wouldn’t grow.

Our garbage tainted ev’rything from trees to buffalo.

We shot it into space so Mars would have to clean the dreck;

The Martians sent it back again, and boycotted Star Trek.

We burned it, churned it, turned it into soylent green to eat;

But even hippie vegans did not find it such a treat.

Finally, we shrunk it with atomic accelerator --

Creating antimatter (and a freaking big ol’ crater.)

And now the world is pure again; the clouds go drifting by.

Of course, mankind no longer grows up more than two foot high . . .

The Pothole That Conquered the World

Potholes across the U.S. are flourishing, with aging roads

pummeled by harsh weather and larger-than-average temperature

swings. Repair crews seem to exit each winter deeper in the hole

. New York City last year had more than triple the number of

reported potholes compared with the mid-1990s. WSJ

A pothole, looking innocent, appeared on my fair street.

I called the city to come fill it up all clean and neat.

They never came, despite the calls I placed with many folk;

I only got the runaround -- they thought it was a joke.

And slowly that wee pothole grew; twas gaining too much depth,

And slowly did it widen to a most disturbing breadth.

And so I got some filler of my own and mixed it thick,

And laid it in the pothole, thinking that would do the trick.

Imagine my dismay the morning after when I saw

That pothole still wide open, with its asphalty great maw!

It gaped like something living -- a black monster on the prowl;

Waiting to devour cars while giving a low growl.

In panic I mixed up another batch of filler, which

I loaded with some wolfbane, garlic, and even barber’s itch.

The pothole simply sucked it down, then gave a vicious belch.

Twas now a creature I alone could not pretend to squelch.

The SWAT Team came a runnin’, and the bomb squad paid a call;

In too much of a hurry, they into the hole did fall.

They never made it out alive -- we took it pretty hard.

The Governor decided to call out the National Guard.

They fired off their cannons and they threw in hand grenades.

They charged it with sharp bayonets and hoes and rakes and spades.

But all their puny efforts could not stop this pothole fiend;

The Feds came in at last to say my street was quarantined.

NASA brought in gizmos and the Pentagon surveyed

All the landscape round about, while Mike Pence loudly prayed.

A jet swooped in to drop atomic weapons on the pit.

That did not stop it growing, not a single little bit.

A refugee, I fled the scene -- now homeless and a pauper.

The pothole swallowed half the state, a cancerous deep whopper.

The scientists say that it will soon devour the East Coast,

And then, with global warming, all humanity is toast.

The stock market has tumbled and the riots never cease.

Ev’ryone is jaywalking and razzing the police.

But what care I what happens -- I’m a vagabond and lout.

But, say, I’d better tell someone that streetlights are burnt out . . .

the hidden beauty

of a thing interrupted

emerges slowly

the drifting daybreak

hints at more excellent things

for those with chaste eyes

Uganda passes tax law on social media users to discourage ‘gossiping’ online

Uganda’s parliament has passed a law to tax those

who use social media platforms like Facebook,

Twitter, Viber, and WhatsApp . . . The controversial

tax was first introduced by the country’s president,

Yoweri Museveni, who wrote a letter to the treasury

stating that social media encouraged gossip that was

costing Uganda time and income.

The tax will come into effect on June 1st, imposing a

200 shilling ($0.05) levy per day on those who use

social media platforms . . .

The Verge

Uganda has passed a fine law

For citizens who like to jaw

On internet sites

In large megabytes,

Neglecting their bricks without straw.

Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Private Charitable Foundations Give Lavish Rewards to Insiders

A mutual-fund manager earned nearly $5 million

over eight years from a lucrative side gig. He

was trustee of his business partner’s private

charitable foundation. Another charitable foundation,

set up by a carpet merchant, has millions of dollars

in loans outstanding to the man’s carpet company.

A third paid out more to companies owned by the

foundation president’s family than it gave to charity

in a recent year. WSJ

I dropped a coin into the cup of some poor soul today,

Standing on the corner like a pitiful old stray.

And straight away a fellow in Italian silk appeared.

“Don’t be a fool!” he said to me. “You’re acting mighty weird!”

He grabbed me by the arm and led me to a coffee shop,

And there he told me private charity was such a flop.

“The poor do not appreciate the finer things in life”

He said while spreading marmalade on muffins with a knife.

He then explained that charity is just another name

For gouging money from the suckers, like a carny game.

“I set up an endowment for some trendy thing” he crowed,

“And you should see the shekels that come in by the carload!”

“Once I have a bundle I begin to loan it out,

Or buy a hundred acres with a stream that’s full of trout.

I get away with murder cuz the tax laws are inept;

So if you are nonprofit, then the books are barely kept.”

“My brother takes a large slice, as a consultation fee;

My sister gets a hunk for serving us warm herbal tea.

And if there’s any leftovers, or crumbs we do not need,

We give it to somebody who has got a good newsfeed.”

My eyes were opened by this man’s approach to giving alms,

And I intend to get donations in my sticky palms.

For charity begins at home, but once you think expansion

Then you can keep on stealing till you’ve got yourself a mansion!

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

this is the color

of my hope for tomorrow

upon goodly hills

look up to grayness

looking down to the grayness

it tells no secrets

A letter from my missionary daughter in California

Hello everyone!!

We have had a busy week! And come to think of it, I don't think there's been a week that we haven't been busy, which is great. Now when it comes to remembering all the things we've done this week, that's a different story! We had transfers, and found out that both of us (Sister Peterson and I) are staying in Dana Point!! We are so excited to have another six weeks together, this area is really cool and there is so much work to be done. And we are both really musical, so we love to make music together!

We have dinner with members almost every night, which gives us a great chance to get to know the people here and this week we had dinner with a family by the last name of Brown. They're a couple in their 50s that manage medical offices and can pretty much work from home but also travel whenever they want. They're pretty well off, financially, but they have a modest house and they're such kind and genuine people. They asked us about our families and shared their stories about when they joined the church, which are always my favorite stories to hear! Brother Brown said that he joined when he was 14 and living in Chicago on the Southside. His parents had passed away and so he went to live with his aunt, but he remembered that the Mormon missionaries used to visit his mom before she passed away. His mom was too sick to be baptized before she passed away, but she wanted it very much. . And he also remembered that his dad would greet the missionaries at the door with a shot gun, but they kept coming back ! I was really taken aback by that and I thought to myself "Would I got back to a house where someone had pointed a gun at me?..." I mean, I'd like to think that the answer would be yes if God was the one telling me to do it, but that takes an insane amount of courage and faith. But I think the reason those missionaries kept visiting them is because they knew one day Brother Brown would accept the gospel, and he did! And so did his sister. And His father eventually stopped pointing a gun at the missionaries when they would come over. But for Brother Brown, joining the church was about becoming part of a family, not so much about making a promise to follow Jesus Christ and our Heavenly Father. And everyone has a different story about how they came to know the church was true, because we are all different. But that's the wonderful thing about the gospel, there's something for everyone! No matter who you are, or where you've been; it's all about knowing where we're going, returning to our Father.

We had so many great things happen this week with less active members and recent converts that we've been working with! There was one day that we were thinking of people to visit and Connie Riddle came to mind. She is a returning less-active member who is getting ready to get married and move in with her soon to be husband. She had been packing up some things in her apartment and had thought about asking someone for help, so she said a quick prayer. And the next thing she knew, we were on her doorstep offering to help! I love it when we are able to be an answer to someone's prayers, it's awesome to be God's hands :)

Thank you all for what you do for your families and friends and the good that you do in your communities! Keep it up! I love you all, have a great week!