Postcards to President Trump

Ode to Reporter Leslie Scism

O muse, grant me a rainbow prism

to celebrate Ms. Leslie Scism.

Her piercing eye, her mighty pen

that always knows just where and when

Her subtle brain that does delight

in complications left and right

Her knowledge of insurance rackets

and CEO's high income brackets

In fact, unless I miss my guess

she's Frida Kahlo of the Press!

The Emperor's Great Wall

Administration officials on Thursday confirmed that they were looking at a range of government accounts that Trump potentially could tap into for the Wall, but would not comment specifically on which projects were being eyed.  LATimes.

Long ago in ancient lands an emperor decreed

that out of bricks and sticks and tricks a wall must rise with speed.

His counselors, they scratched their heads and faintly wondered why

such a wall must be put up until it reached the sky.

The emperor did not enjoy the doubts of any servant.

He kicked them and he cussed at them in language that was fervent:

"Don't you know that foreign hordes are right this minute waiting

to overwhelm my empire -- a nasty mess creating?"

And so the retinue of He Who Must Be Compensated

fanned out to find the manpower to make his project fated.

Any man found idling in doorway or saloon,

any woman peeling carrots or the sharp cardoon,

children playing marbles -- all were swept up in a trice

and put in cells of cockleshells, to live off prunes and rice.

Manacled together, they were marched out to the site

of the nascent border wall to work from morn til night.

 But where to find the funding for the bricks and thick cement?

The servants of the emperor did not have one red cent.

Deputizing publicans, they sent those greedy pigs

out to tax entire worlds of cloth and tools and figs.

But that's not all these creatures did, to finance that great wall;

they raided all departments of the government, y'all.

The navy lost its rudders and the army its puttees;

the scribes had no more pencils and accountants no more cheese.

All the schools were shut down, so their funding could be swiped 

for the emperor's great wall, which now was really hyped.

Calamity was prophesied if building was delayed;

recruiters signed up volunteers -- by using a sharp blade.

The towns were all deserted and the farms were fallow all --

just so that the emperor could have his toxic wall.

Commerce at a stand-still, and the temples in decay;

the land turned back to jungle in a verdant disarray. 

 Now while the people slaved upon the wall in subjugation,

strangers from the East and West began a sly migration.

Taking over farms and shops, restoring many homes,

they settled in quite cozily -- like little garden gnomes.

So set upon his sacred wall, the emperor ignored

his people's anger and their rising temper and discord.

At last full civil war broke out, and none were spared the sword --

so ev'ryone was gutted like an overripened gourd.

When the pall of battle cleared the emperor alone

survived upon his blood-stained and near-splintered royal throne.

The wall had tumbled down around his ears -- he gave a sigh,

and then far in the distance his new people did descry.

With a grave panoply of his solitary person

he marched up to his newbies (all their happiness to worsen.)

"I am your emperor supreme!" he gabbled at their faces.

"Full of strong authority and self-effacing graces."

The newbies didn't care a fig for this benighted dummy;

they kept on with their singing, swinging, and playing of gin rummy.

"I command you to begin the digging of a ditch . . . "

he cried, but then they cut him down -- that sorry son of a . . .gun.

  

Postcards to President Trump

Welcome to the Hotel Avaricious

The push by hotels to swamp travelers with fees is expanding: The fees you used to only find at resorts are moving downtown.

Many big-city hotels are adding mandatory facility fees or urban-destination fees to hotel bills, hiding the add-ons, which sometimes reach $50 a night, from advertised room rates. The Boston Park Plaza adds a required $22 fee per room per night. The St. Regis in New York, often more than $800 a night, now adds a $50 mandatory destination fee.

There’s a $25 a night resort fee at the Radisson Blu Aqua in downtown Chicago. Same at the Hilton Anatole in Dallas. Neither are what most travelers would consider a resort.

WSJ

Make your time away from home relaxing and auspicious;

come stay in a luxurious suite at Hotel Avaricious.

Reservations guaranteed, as long as you book early.

(So many people have 'em now, twould make your bald head curly!)

Accommodations are deluxe; we never let you down.

Our lobby's so decorous it could pass for a ghost town.

 Conveniently located, next to stockyards and a mill

that quaintly grinds fish bladders into such a healthy pill.

We're happy to take credit cards, or debit -- even cash.

We don't ask many questions (like "How did you get that gash?")

Our gift shop is amazing, full of overrated rubble.

And if you show them your room key, all prices they will double.

Our staff is very helpful and have trained to serve you well;

 if you neglect to tip them large they'll give you bloody hell.

The desk clerk's ever ready to provide you with a smile.

The maids will sweep the bedbugs up with hardly any guile.

We have a troupe of bellboys that know how to get things done;

when they see Immigration you will see how fast they run.

We've tour guides by the dozens, who will lead you far away

to caves that are storm sewers when we have a rainy day.

Our coffee shop is splendid, and our grill is never closed.

We serve organic burgers (if the meat ain't decomposed.)

The cocktail lounge invites you to sophisticated gab;

their bar brawls are quite mannerly -- no shooting, just a stab.

Come swim in our Olympic pool, or sunbathe if you like;

you can fish for dinner, cuz we stock the pool with pike.

The tennis court is lively, since it is a parking lot.

(Avoid the deck chairs, buddy; they are more or less dry rot.)

And when you come to pay your bill we think you'll be surprised

how every stinking item has become so fertilized.

We gonna gouge you, sweetheart, and there's nothin' you can do;

it goes on your expense account, so watsa matta you?

If you have trouble paying we will be most understanding.

Guido will arrange for you to have a neat crash landing.

Be sure to tell your friends about the Hotel Avaricious.

Cuz if you don't we've video that makes you look suspicious.

Postcards to President Trump

The New Rumplestiltskin

DUBAI -- There are gold-flaked pizzas and gold-injected soups, gold-dusted french fries and gold-infused Bloody Marys, cakes and pies topped with gold frosting. An Italian restaurant offers gold flakes in lieu of Parmesan cheese. In the past year, several major hotels have begun offering cappuccinos infused with gold.
WSJ

Inside the hotel dining room

loud voices could be heard to boom;

rude tourists with their manners bold

demanded biscuits dipped in gold.

The chef did not know what to do.

He turned to his loyal kitchen crew

and said he had no gold to spare,

and then began to pull his hair.

"Oh woe is me!" said he in grief.

"What shall I do to find relief?"

"My customers will surely leave

if something rich I can't conceive."

Just then, through noisome kitchen drain

a little man popped up quite plain.

His nose curved down to meet his chin;

he had a leering wicked grin.

"I'm at your service" he began,

this tiny little homely man.

"I'll spin you gold from yonder heap

of plastic spoons and forks so cheap."

"And you can do this?" asked the cook,

as with great sanguineness he shook.

"If this is true, just name your price --

I'll give you wine or meat or spice!"

The little homunculus bowed

and gave an evil laugh aloud.

"Please keep your foodstuffs, cuisinier;

I only want what's truly fair."

He sidled up to the sous chef

and murmured in a low bass clef:

"I want your mix for vichyssoise

so I can have the world's applause."

"Mon Dieu!" the chef cried mournfully.

"That is my cherished recipe."

"If I should give it up to you

I'd be in such an awful stew!"

The little man, he shrugged a bit

and waited as the sound waves hit

from customers whose chant was brief:

"Now give us strudel with gold leaf!"

The chef, he was a beaten soul.

He threw down his clay batter bowl

and made a bargain with the imp,

although it left him feeling limp.

The little man said "By the way

if you should guess my name today

I'll forfeit that there recipe

and all your gold will be scot-free"

And so that wicked little rogue

put all that plastic through a drogue,

and out came gold dust by the ounce --

enough to make the chef's eyes bounce.

Handed quietly a locket

when the busboy picked his pocket,

the chef now knew the wee man's name,

and made of him a silly game.

"Your name must be Sir Himmelfarht"

did say the chef, "or Miss Descartes?"

"Pooh! Pooh!' the imp replied with pride.

"Your feeble guesses I deride!"

"And now I'm done, as promised I --

the recipe you will supply!"

The chef looked up, the chef looked down;

he mimed a most dolorous frown.

"Oh very well" he sighed at last.

"Dear Rumpelstiltskin, write it fast!"

"Say what!? Have you discovered me?"

shrieked Rumpelstiltskin angrily.

Then Rumpelstiltskin stamped his feet

and turned much redder than a beet.

  He ground his teeth and shook his head

so hard that he fell down, quite dead.

Now hotel patrons dine on quail

wrapped in gold foil as thick as kale.

And for dessert their hot cross buns

with molten gold so gaily runs.

And with the gold dust left behind,

the chef and all his crew have lined

their pockets with a goodly sum --

Thanks, Rumpelstiltskin . . . you old bum! 

Postcards to President Trump

Men Without Coats (or Brains) -- The World Institute of Slowness -- The Last Straw in San Dieg

EVERY WINTER, the season’s most confounding species emerges: the Male Nojacketus. On that first freezing day, you can spot him standing on the subway platform or hoofing it toStarbucks, nonchalant in his meager button-up shirt. Even when this foolhardy creature can see his own breath, he may not don a coat, or even a pair of pants (Male Nojacketae adore shorts, especially of the cargo variety). Scarfs or hats? He would never stoop to such compromising accessories. The most extreme members of the species will bare his toes in flip-flops on days that could easily end in snow.

WSJ

The reason that men don't wear coats

when winter is sowing wild oats

is that they are clear

on not showing fear;

they won't even cover their throats.

******************************

Geir Berthelsen, founder of the World Institute of Slowness, a think tank in Norway, says starting the day with intentional slowness helps spark creative thinking. “Business leaders need to take time to forget about time, and that helps them be creative when they arrive at work,” he says. “That’s the goal of doing this before going into the workplace.”   WSJ

Norwegians who savor the slow

start mornings like syrup in snow.

They dawdle and sit

to daydream a bit;

velocity makes them cry "Whoa!"

***************************

San Diego joined 119 other California cities on Tuesday by banning polystyrene food and beverage containers, which have been blamed for poisoning fish and other marine life and damaging the health of people who eat seafood.

The City Council approved the ban by a 6-3 vote along party lines, with all Democrats in favor and all Republicans opposed.

LATimes

The city council took a whack

at the polystyrene claque.

When the Democrats had won,

take out food was all undone.

 Now let's blame the GOP

for some new conspiracy.

Europe Says "Bang Bang!" -- Trump Continues to Rearrange Deck Chairs on the Titanic -- The Poor are Smoking More--

Gun ownership is rising across Europe, a continent that until recently faced far less gun crime and violence than much of the globe. Not long ago it was rare to see armed British police.

WSJ

There was a young person in Spain

who wanted a gun to obtain.

Said she: Caballeros 

will scatter like sparrows

when my weapon starts to explain.

*******************************

President Trump will address the nation on Tuesday night and travel on Thursday to the U.S.-Mexico border to press his case for a wall there, amid a partisan funding impasse over the issue that has kept the government partially shut down into a third week.

LATimes

If I were in Trump's shoes today

I think that I'd like just to say:

Instead of dividers

let's welcome outsiders

to make our economy pay.

***********************************

For starters, the people living in neighborhoods with higher smoking rates tended to make less money than people in neighborhoods with lower smoking rates. The researchers calculated that a $10,000 increase in a census tract’s median household income corresponded with a 0.92 percentage-point decrease in smoking prevalence.

LATimes

Tobacco makes paupers of folk,

the more that they inhale the smoke.

You're much better off

without that old cough,

and finances that aren't a joke.