My Life is but a Rerun

Netflix Inc. may soon have to contemplate life without its No. 1 show. It’s “The Office.”

Three of its biggest programming suppliers—AT&T Inc.’s WarnerMedia and Walt DisneyCo. in addition to Comcast Corp.’s NBCUniversal—are entering the streaming-video arena. After licensing rerun content to Netflix for years, happy to cash its checks, they are looking to take their hit content back to feed their own platforms.

WSJ

My life is but a rerun; an old sitcom, if you will.

With daffy situations that show little writing skill.

As I sit in my recliner with my laptop on my knee

I watch again "The Office" or some other potpourri.

My vegetable existence -- ne plus ultra for a clod --

is waiting for revival (where oh where is "The Mod Squad?")

There is no balm in Gilead that matches watching "Friends,"

and if I don't binge watch some more I'm gonna get the bends!

If I could but imagine life without my Netflix fix

perhaps I'd have an intellect that wasn't all toothpicks.

Can I afford the fees for streaming channels by the score?

I can, I guess, if it will bring me Mary Tyler Moore.

Pence's Tax Returns, Like President Trump's, Stay Out of Sight

WASHINGTON—Vice President Mike Pence has filed three tax returns since taking office, but he hasn’t publicly released any of them.

As Democrats fight with President Trump about his unreleased tax returns amid a key deadline Tuesday, the vice president’s decision to keep his own recent tax documents under wraps has gotten far less attention. It is just as much of a break from his predecessors: Going back to Walter Mondale in the 1970s, all have disclosed their returns. 

WSJ

You can see my driver's license, or my pinky ring.

I'll even let you gaze upon my balls of twine and string.

Not a problem if you need my library card to see --

but tax returns are sacred (or at least they are to ME.)

I'll show you photo albums and diplomas by the score.

Test results and shopping lists; and what is even more,

my x-rays are an open book, my bank statements are too --

but what I file with Uncle Sam will never come to view!

I am a public servant and as such should be immune

from nosy parkers who would see if I am a tycoon.

I'll even show you my tattoos (my chest has got a doozy.)

But when it comes to tax returns I'm gonna be quite choosy!

Is Netflix a Romance Killer?

A 2017 paper in “Archives of Sexual Behavior,” which revealed that Americans were having less sex, on average, than they did three decades ago, offered streaming video as one possible culprit.

WSJ

An evening full of romance is a treasured memory

to many an old geezer, and I certainly include me!

Those nights of passion with my spouse; those were the good old days.

We didn't have the internet to tempt us with delays.

And so our fam'ly grew apace; the kids just kept a-comin'.

It was our way to keep the GNP up high and hummin'.

I guess that's 'chauvinistic' now; unpopular and trite.

But let me tell you, buddy, we looked forward to each night!

But nowadays with Netflix and those other streaming views,

couples sit around at night and wind up in a snooze.

No wonder that our birthrate is in nugatory zones,

what with ev'ryone addicted to that "Game of Thrones."

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More to come

Hobby Horse Girls

A veterinarian lectured girls on hobbyhorse vaccination schedules, saying “check that the eyes are clear and there is no nasal discharge.” The girls discussed hobbyhorse bloodlines and hobbyhorse temperaments, hobbyhorse training routines and hobbyhorse diets. There were rhinestone-studded bridles for sale.

NYT

I wish I was a hobby horse, with little child astride;

I'd take him on a marvel trip to open his eyes wide.

We'd breach the starry heavens and splash through the Milky Way;

circle round the foolish moon and pull a comet sleigh.

Gallop o'er the greenest hills and slide down deepest glade

to seek for cotton candy with a pail of lemonade.

Or I could be a bronco with a cowboy on my back;

buckin' and a snortin' as I ran around the track.

We'll ride into the sunset like all western heroes do,

and never worry or grow up -- like Peter Pan or Pooh!

Ah me, to find the secret of such ever-young enzymes --

but now I'd better get back to the Sunday New York Times . . . 

Notre Dame & Yellow Vests. Asian Carp.

PARIS—The campaign to rebuild Notre Dame, in eliciting vast donations from France’s richest families, has become a target of the yellow-vest protest movement.

Protesters taking to the streets Saturday for the 23rd consecutive weekend of yellow-vest marches, however, decried the hypocrisy of elites who they said were willing to mobilize large sums to rebuild the cathedral while allowing France’s working class to languish.

WSJ

When the poor and needy get a notion to rebel

there is very little that will shrink their tattered swell.

Once the bit's between their teeth they gallop steady on;

elites are left in terror at their peril, come the dawn.

And so a great cathedral needs expensive restoration;

 this adds fuel to demonstrations in the Gallic nation.

restoring ancient beauty now becomes a new crusade,

because the Yellow Jackets think that THEY deserve the aid.

I call them Yellow Jackets cuz they sting how'ere they please;

I wonder if they soon might bring the French unto their knees?

It's like the old Bastille again, and Uncle Sam should heed

how the disenfranchised can make any country bleed.

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Southern states are ramping up efforts to control the problem, but some officials worry they may be too late. For years, Midwestern states and the federal government have spent millions of dollars on research, electric barriers and other methods to keep Asian carp from infiltrating the Great Lakes and hurting its ecology and $7 billion annual fishing industry.

WSJ

No one likes the Asian carp; it is a horrid fellow.

Its fangs are long, its gills do smell, its eyes are scary yellow.

It lurks upon the bottom of a river or a stream,

and jumps into your fishing boat to make you weep and scream.

From whence this interloper hails, we do not care to know,

or why it jumps so viciously and wriggles to and fro.

Enough to realize this fiend destroys our native catch

and turns the bottoms of our lakes into a desert patch.

Dissembling to the last degree, the Asian carp pretends

he is an honest immigrant and wants to be just friends.

But if you let him in your pond you'll soon find he produces

nothing but a muddy scum and plenty of excuses!

La Destrucción de Montana

Sucedió tan rápido que nadie lo vio venir, o supo a dónde fue después de que se hizo. En otras palabras, fue el mejor de los tiempos y la peor de las historias. Hasta el día de hoy, los medios todavía están decididos a silenciar las cosas en lugar de dejar que los verdaderos y horribles detalles de la destrucción de Montana se produzcan para que nuestra nación se ruborice y tiemble.       ¿Y quién puede ¿Y quién puede culparlos? Todo comenzó en una noche tranquila cerca de las estribaciones de las Montañas Rocosas, ya que se apoyan en el gran estado de Montana. Monty Mothballer, un ranchero de ganado robusto y patán de hachís, se estaba acostando con una dosis de aceite de ricino mezclado con caldo de cactus cuando escuchó un estruendo terrible que venía de las montañas distantes. Cuando salió a la calle para ver de qué se trataba todo ese ruido, tuvo que frotarse los ojos con incredulidad varias veces antes de reconocer que un Chinook canadiense se había escapado de sus captores del norte y estaba avanzando hacia su rancho como un grupo esclerótico que intentaba llegar al Mick Jagger. Puedes imaginar el resto, ya que no tengo ninguna intención de entrar en detalles.

culparlos? Todo comenzó en una noche tranquila cerca de las estribaciones de las Montañas Rocosas, ya que se apoyan en el gran estado de Montana. Monty Mothballer, un ranchero de ganado robusto y patán de hachís, se estaba acostando con una dosis de aceite de ricino mezclado con caldo de cactus cuando escuchó un estruendo terrible que venía de las montañas distantes. Cuando salió a la calle para ver de qué se trataba todo ese ruido, tuvo que frotarse los ojos con incredulidad varias veces antes de reconocer que un Chinook canadiense se había escapado de sus captores del norte y estaba avanzando hacia su rancho como un grupo esclerótico que intentaba llegar al Mick Jagger. Puedes imaginar el resto, ya que no tengo ninguna intención de entrar en detalles.

Headlines: Detroit. Write Your Own Obituary. Brazil. Postcard to the President. Boeing.

If teenagers are any guide, Americans’ love affair with the automobile may no longer be something car makers can bank on.

The percentage of teens with a driver’s license has tumbled in the last few decades and more young people are delaying purchasing their first car—if buying one at all, say analysts, generational experts and car industry executives.

WSJ

Seems the era of our teens/driving in their cool machines/is about to end at last/which will leave Detroit aghast/Kids would rather speed and race/with their games on cyberspace/This lets parents off the hook/and replenishes bankbook.

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Once you resolve to write your own obit, how do you get the job done? My advice is to set aside 15 to 30 minutes once or twice a week until you finish. Don’t fuss about literary flourishes. Just write the story simply, in your own voice. As for structure, I’m going with chronological order. It may not show much imagination, but it provides a clear path for the writer and the reader.

James R. Hagerty.  WSJ

Born upon September morn/in the Minnesota corn/Never was one much for school/ran away to be a fool/Worked for Ringling off and on/often had my things in pawn/Had eight kids with just one wife/Crowning glory of my life/Now I'm old and fat and write/poetry that's awful trite.

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BRASÍLIA—Brazilian judges are ratcheting up a campaign against what they deem to be misleading press coverage and offensive social-media posts, raising concerns among free-speech advocates.

Following a Supreme Court order, police this week raided homes and seized documents and computers of several Facebook and Twitter users who had accused the court on social media of corruption and other crimes, according to press reports and some of the targeted people.

WSJ

With their high and holy calling

judges in Brazil are bawling

for their citizens to cease

agitating cyber-peace.

Those who turn their face in scorn,

to the courtroom swiftly borne,

find themselves behind steel bars --

with time enough to write memoirs.

So if to Rio you must go,

watch your Facebook postings, bro;

otherwise a nice cadeia

is the hotel where you'll staya.

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Postcard to the President

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NORTH CHARLESTON, S.C. — When Boeing broke ground on its new factory near Charleston in 2009, the plant was trumpeted as a state-of-the-art manufacturing hub, building one of the most advanced aircraft in the world. But in the decade since, the factory, which makes the 787 Dreamliner, has been plagued by shoddy production and weak oversight that have threatened to compromise safety.

NYT

I think that I shall never fly

in Boeing planes up in the sky.

Their factories do shoddy work,

with wiring that goes berserk.

They used to be reliable

but now are way too pliable

with standards and their training schools --

employees scratch their heads at tools.

I think their unions better say

to immigrants "Please come and stay!"

"We need your fresh and younger brains

to once again make safer planes!" 

Timerick

Trump Lashes Out as Mueller Report Reverberates Around Washington

WSJ Headline

House Democrats Subpoena Full Mueller Report, and the Underlying Evidence

NYT Headline

Democrats are looking for/something that will make Trump roar/Mueller seems to be the one/which will give them greatest fun/With his club they hope to smash/Donald into hopeless trash/but beware just how you swing/if you miss you've made him king!

Postcard to the President

I only know what algorithms tell me

The algorithms that power Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and YouTube have a disproportionate control over our lives. And while there are certain controls that allow us to tweak what we see when we’re on these massively popular networks, there’s no real escape.
WSJ

I accidentally clicked an ad

for hotel spots in Trinidad.

So right away I hit delete,

then went to post my latest tweet.

But algorithms now awoke

and my news feed became a joke:

New recipes for Planters Punch

and having conch stew for my lunch --

I didn't read of Tiger's win

or of the Trumpster's latest sin.

Instead I got how very close

Trinidad's to Barbados.

Bargain airfares now appeared

and advice was volunteered

on the cheapest getaway

all around Montego Bay.

I tried to let my Facebook page

know that I was in quite a rage,

and fiddled with my Instagram --

but they gave not a tinker's dam.

Nothing I could do or post

could rid me of this awful ghost.

And so from now on I'll be seein'

nothing but the Caribbean . . .