Investors have trimmed their bearish bets

I was out of work and pretty desperate,
so I answered an online ad that asked
for people to be trimmed. Payment would
be in gold Krugerrands.

I showed up at an abandoned shopping mall,
where sweet peas came up through the cracks
in the asphalt.

There were bears all over the place.
Polar bears. Grizzlies. Pandas. Sun bears.
They rushed over to me and began wielding
scissors around my long beautiful brown
hair.

I have always been very proud of my hair.
My dad never let his grow out until he was 
put in a nursing home -- and then it grew
into a luxurious mop of silky brown wonder.
And then he died of the coronavirus.
My hair is the same. I guard it with scalp massages
and douse it with olive oil each morning.
Now these bears were ready to trim it all off!

I decided not to fight them. There were too many.
And they were bears, for heaven's sake. You
don't win a fight with a bear.
When they were done they threw Kruggerands
at me. And I was completely bald.

I used the money to buy that abandoned shopping
mall.
I threw all the bear out -- in fact, I managed
to have them captured and put behind bars
in zoos all over the world.
Serves 'em right.

The Haunted Flea Market.

On my way to the post office I passed an old abandoned parking lot, full of upheaved and cracked asphalt with weeds springing out
of the cracks like frozen green geysers.
The abandonment was poetic to me, and I forgot about the post office and instead went to the park, where I found a brown paper sack blowing down the path and used it to write down an elegy:

A dull black, sullen in the sunlight.
Cracked like egg shells from dinosaurs.
This parking lot used to host a flea market.
Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.
The click of metallic legs on cheap card tables,
unfolding in the early morning smudge,
could be heard in the land.
And gave joy to the junk-minded.
I often stopped to look at the National Geographics.
The things people can do with wooden clothes pins . . . 

But then the land got sick; the people got scared.
No one would stand next to you
and you would not stand next to them.
I sent my wife and kids to Chernobyl,
so they would be totally isolated.
The flea market stopped.
But I see ghosts and skeletons there.
Selling homemade hand lotion,
made out of glycerin, gravel, and Dawn.
Face masks sewn from leeks.
Rocks to throw at people who don't wear masks.
 Giant plexiglass hamster balls to crawl into and 
roll safely down the street.
Camphor prayer wheels.

Will a flea market ever open again in the land?
Will my children grow a third ear in Chernobyl?
Can a face mask cure bad breath?
And where will all the popcorn go?
The answer is melting in the sun.
Climbing an elm tree.
Eating a pretzel.
Kicking a mime.


Good-bye, Mrs. Calabash --
you're running a fever.

Timericks from stories by Amrith Ramkumar, Shan Li, Santiago Perez and Liz Alderman,

Tim Torkildson, creator of the 'timerick' and Kleenex recycler.

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

Shan Li. WSJ.

Amrith Ramkumar. WSJ. 

U.S. crude supply is falling at its quickest pace ever, easing a global oil glut and spurring a swift recovery in fuel prices.

@AmrithRamkumar

I guess I should be happy for investors in big oil/rising prices should relieve a bit of their turmoil/And there should be more jobs created in the industry/which should alleviate a bit of common misery/But still and all when gasoline my wallet starts to dredge/I can't help feeling upset, with my dentures all on edge!

Masks and Makeup Don’t Mix, So Cosmetic Fans Seek Permanent Fix.

@ByShanLi   @PerezEnMexico

My face is ugly as can be/a mask will hide it gracefully/nobody sees my horrid lips/my crooked nose or acne chips/you gals who worry of concealment/just be glad it's not revealment!

Santiago Perez. WSJ

The pandemic is propelling a shift toward a cashless society in ways that no other single event has. Experts say that’s not necessarily a good thing.

@LizAldermanNYT

LIz Alderman.  NYT.

I haven't got a dollar in my pocket at this time/so going

cashless is to me a very easy climb/My plastic is exhausted -- 

debit/credit, all the same/If I were any broker Weary Willie'd 

be my name!

Photo Essay: Postcards Mailed to my Favorite Reporters. Vol. 4

To:  Sheera Frenkel.

To:  Sarah Toy

To:  Laura Reiley

To:  Kathryn Dill

Photo Essay: Saturday, July 4, 2020. Provo, Utah.

Timericks from stories by Gwynn Guilford, Nancy Keates, Joe Morgenstern, and Annie Karni.

Gwynn Guilford, reporter and Swedish Meatball enthusiast.

Driving Over Air Travel, Takeout Over Cafes: Pandemic Shapes Consumption.

@sinoceros

Driving and takeout is how I respond/since I am cautious and also beau monde/The world ain't a safe place to gather and drool/It's online for shopping and working and school/I drive by myself, want no waiters about/I'm wearing a mask and will catch my own trout.

Nancy Keates, reporter and anchovy enthusiast.

Your Summer Escape Hits a Detour: Quarantine Chaos.

@nkeates

Crossing state lines on a jaunt/is complicated as Detente/Must you wear a mask inside/or does this state just let it slide/Must you prove you're Covid-free/Will they take your temp for free/All the rules go inconsistent/when your travel plans are distant/No summer break for me this year/I'll stay at home and just drink beer.

Joe Morgenstern, reporter and amateur magician.

Netflix Review: The Old Guard.

@JoeMorgenstern

Since the Cineplex is closed/I am getting discomposed/Not that I don't like Netflix/but their shows are all cake mix/Formulaic to the max/The writer's brains must be of wax/Big screen movies, too, did splutter/but I sure loved their popcorn butter.

Reporter Annie Karni, recent winner of nothing much in particular.

Trump Uses Mount Rushmore Speech to Deliver Divisive Culture War Message.
@anniekarni

There is no virus anymore/So says Trump at Mount Rushmore/Instead, the peril lies with those/who leftist fascist teachings chose/and now will make our country weak/by uplifting the common geek/and putting curtains on our faces/so we can't tell apart the races/This cancel culture must be stopped/and Trump stern measures will adopt/if we give him four more years/I think I'll laugh -- then shed some tears.

When Death Can Take It Easy.

Coronavirus cases in the U.S. rose to another single-day high as the nation entered a Fourth of July weekend marked by restrictions on many activities and warnings to maintain social-distancing practices.
(Washington Post)


The Great Perhaps awaits us all/as certain as a coming squall/But when we hurry it along/by doing things so very wrong/then Death can take it easy, for/we do perform his ev'ry chore/We won't wear masks; we congregate/We eat off one another's plate/We sneeze and spit and subsidize/sly quacks with their moronic lies/The Reaper Grim is free to roam/while we build our own catacomb/And with our current president/Death a ski chalet can rent/and spend his time upon the slopes/while mankind acts like headstrong dopes.

Timericks from stories by Isaac Stanley-Becker, Robert E. Lee, A.O. Scott, Louise Radnofsky, and Andrew Beaton.

Tim Torkildson, CEO of Timerick Inc.

At coronavirus crossroads, U.S. weighs ‘one more chance’ to quell escalating outbreak.

@isaacstanbecker

Americans won't take the veil/even at the threat of jail/They wash their hands infrequently/and never wipe their noses, see?/They spit and cough and spritz away/without a thought of Judgement Day/But I'll be safe, because, by golly/I'm moving off to germ-free Mali!

A Summer Without Superheroes.

@aoscott

Batman's gone, Green Lantern's out/

What IS this summer all about/

Without ol' Spidey looping loops

or stern Avengers -- only moops!/

Since Hollywood can't stay the course/

I'll stay at home and read old Norse.

Washington’s NFL Team to Undertake

 ‘Thorough Review’ of Redskins 

Name

@andrewlbeaton    @louiseradnofsky

Why not name 'em 'Former Glory'/or perhaps 'The Dino-saury/'Rip Van Winkles' just might do/Then, of course, there's 'Scooby-Doo'/Not a hint of the Red Man/So why not try out 'Also Ran?'

Timericks from stories by Katie Bindley, Nathan Draper, Rob Reed, Bruce Veldhuisen, Alex Janney, Mike Colias, and Sarah Toy.

Tim Torkildson, creator of the 'timerick' and official window dressing at the Swedish Institute.

The question of how to live life under shifting coronavirus precautions is straining relations among friends and relatives; ‘Boys, you’re too close to Grandma’

@katiebindley

Grandma's too close to the twins/they are almost touching skins/Uncle Jake just sneezed upon/couzin Suzie's pickled prawn/Why am I stuck with the task/of asking kin to wear a mask?/I'd rather eat dry raisin bran/than get together with my clan!

During Covid-19 Pandemic, the Used-Car Lot Is Hot.

@MikeColias

Buying a used car remains/one of life's miserable pains/The fuel line is slow/How long will it go?/The front seat still shows some blood stains!

Ellie Kesselman, from the Wall Street Journal, emailed me back her response to the above poem, thusly:  Unlike a used car, he isn't even good as a temporary solution. There's still some utility to be wrung out of even a $1000 used car. Biden's public appearances so far are totally dysfunctional. I'm off topic though...
And Mr. Al Pittman, from the same source, had this to say:  The used cars trend maybe an indicator why the Biden's missteps are seemly looked over.  Like the used car, once possibly a functional model, Biden is a temporary solution with little residue value between the old past and some future candidate.   Wonder if this marketing trend will expanded to China products and the new green deal temporarily for the election cycle.

What Makes Bars and Restaurants Potential Covid-19 Hot Spots?

@danielas_bot    @sarahtoy17

At a cafe people belch/in the bar the towels all squelch/

Microbes love a crisp french fry/or a liquor deadened fly/

Sanitary lapses bloom/at lunch counter or barroom/

What is wrong, I'm asking you/with tasty at-home 

barbecue?/

At home I never tip a soul/and Doritos fill my bowl.

Texas Mandates Face Masks as Coronavirus Cases Surge

Taking the veil.

Down upon the Texas plains the folks are full of pep;

and iffin you do easy bruise, you better watch your step!

For Texas folks are eager to maintain their die hard ways;

they'll lynch the nearest varmint that eats donuts with a glaze! 

They want no namby pambies and do independent stand;

nobody tells 'em what to do, from Arp to Rio Grande.

Their Governor, Greg Abbott, is a straight shooter fer real;
he always gives the cowpokes quite a fair bodacious deal.
He bristles at the thought of Federales in his hair;
and tells 'em where to go with forceful words and baleful glare.
His mother was a rattle snake, his father a horned toad;
he ain't afeard of nothin' in the sage or on the road.
So when the Federales said to wear a wicked veil,
he rose up on his hind legs and did surely give 'em heil.
"Nobody in the Lone Star state will wear a mask, by Jove!"
he thundered at those bureaucrats -- who hid in their alcove.
"No citizen of Texas will be gagged by such decrees!"
he said in full defiance of the spreading dread disease.

And so the state of Texas went about its bizness great;
sellin' and a-swappin' with no maddening debate.
But strange to tell the virus did not back down in the least,
and Texans caught it like the plague (and like the folks back East.)
Twas nothing but collusion, so the Governor did claim;
folks just had to buck up and not play the doctors' game.
But soon the hospitals were full, and graveyards did prepare
to solemnly partake of their anticipated share.
It came to pass that Mr. Greg his mind was forced to change,
and now the purple riders wear a mask upon the range.
Nobody is to go outdoors without they hang a curtain
over their own mouth and nose, and keep it on for certain.
Even Texas Rangers have to wear the silly things;
which from the hearts of Texans fearful sobs already wrings.
I reckon those ol' microbes think they got ol' Abbott's goat --
but he's already working on a state-surrounding moat!
Texas may be down, but she ain't stayin' there for long --
and she'll be up and runnin' soon . . . or my name's Scuppernong!