Today's Timericks.

 

Big government is here to stay/but not how pundits like to say/Democracy and otherwise/are not the ruling macho guys/Our lives are ruled from dusk to dawn/but no one else but Amazon.

Our country's at a wonderful stage/with Space Force, but no living wage/While power fails and taps spew dirt/we now have sugar-free dessert/Although America has heart/our infrastructure falls apart.

The battle to change the rules has been reignited by a court ruling in the western city of Osaka Japan last month that awarded a former student $3,000 for “emotional distress” incurred after she was hounded out of high school because her hair wasn’t black enough. But the court controversially backed the school’s legal right to impose the rule.  (WaPo)

In Japan you must take care/to go to school with deep black hair/Otherwise you're hounded so/your education goes fallow/Courts have upheld this cruel rule/So if you're blonde, don't go to school!

Today's Timericks.

 

A nursing home is such a pleasure/residents recline at leisure/Attendants cater to their whims/working under pseudonyms/Their fees are growing ever steeper/So I'll stay home for the Grim Reaper.

If you're down in old Kentuck/you will be way out of luck/if you look cross at a cop/On your head they'll give a bop/then give you a guided tour/of the hoosegow, that's for sure!

The pork barrel is back in style/It causes congressmen to smile/Once again they're doing favors/for their district's green engravers/Calling it an 'earmark' means/they're getting back their limousines.

Elon Musk puts men to work/no matter if contagions lurk/at a Tesla plant or two/what cares he for sickly crew?/When a car from him you buy/remember those who had to die.

Down in sunny Mexico/children have no place to go/without parents anywhere/Border agents do not care/children rounded up like kine/left alone in camps to pine/Isn't this a pretty fix/all because of politics?

Here's a shout for good old MAD/a magazine that made kids glad/at the japes it gave adults/for their silly insane cults/How their artists must have chuckled/as a mutiny they suckled!

Nearly 7 million tax filers are in limbo and facing substantial delays in getting refunds so far this tax filing season, as the Internal Revenue Service struggles to keep up with the demands of issuing stimulus checks and implementing myriad tax code changes from coronavirus relief packages, including the one President Biden signed this week.  (WaPo)

Waiting on the IRS/this delay to quick address/is like waiting for the sun/a cold cinder to become/It may happen one fine day/long after we have passed away.

Market manias abound/Gold that's easy to be found/Bitcoin, NFT's, sports cards/investors hoisted by petards/insiders collect their fee/the rest of us risk poverty.

Once a bagel you have et/you're not likely to forget/just how good they chew and taste/Never let one go to waste!/I don't care just where they bake 'em/given choice, I'll always take 'em!/Even stale, I much prefer/a bagel over gold and myrrh. 

Photo Essay: More Postcards Mailed to President Joe Biden.

 

Today's Timericks. (Now with Beeple!)

 

I never use essential oils/my skin's beyond repair/where there isn't wrinkles/there is gross unwanted hair/I look more like a troll than man/with warts and wattles, too/I'd scare away the bogie man/if my face he could view!

Sightings of the thylacine/are happening now all the time/It's been extinct a hundred years/and yet it still in news appears/People see just what they want/and that's why Trump remains to haunt.

On Thursday, a digital collage of hundreds of weird, brightly colored images made by a South Carolina artist known as Beeple sold at the prestigious Christie’s auction for $69.3 million. The staggering price is the third highest ever for a work by a living artist, second only to pieces sold by art-world giants Jeff Koons and David Hockney. (WaPo)

I've been working in collage/without any entourage/My poor stuff wont fetch the price/of a fountain drink with ice/Beeple's stuff is NFT/it's digital entirely/He's no Rembrandt, that's for sure/But he makes the cash cows purr . . . 

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

For those curious about NFT's, here's some further quotes from the WaPo article:

An NFT is a type of digital crypto asset. They represent a specific version of any digital file — whether it’s a song, a video game or a simple image. Using the same technology that bitcoin uses, people can “mint” NFTs, creating a record of ownership that’s spread across thousands of computers around the world that cannot be changed by anyone except the owner. It’s a way of turning a digital file into something that can be bought and sold like a physical object.

But unlike Koons’s balloon dog sculptures and Hockney’s acrylic paintings, the collage, known as “Everydays: The First 5000 Days,” is entirely digital. In effect, what the unnamed buyer bought is not very different from the photo posted at the top of this article.

What sets it apart, though, is that this specific file is an NFT, or non-fungible token. Using the same principles behind cryptocurrencies such as bitcoin, NFTs allow people to claim ownership over specific digital files, be they songs, videos or static images. Beeple, whose real name is Mike Winkelmann, is the latest beneficiary of a rush into NFTs that’s a side effect of the fast-growing interest in digital currencies and the technology behind them.

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

America is none too chaste/when it comes to plastic waste/Poorer countries take our trash/making mandates balderdash/Charity begins at home/but our garbage has to roam.  

Photo Essay: Postcards Mailed to President Joe Biden.

 

Today's Timericks.

 

Whenever heavy meals I eat/the thought of napping is so sweet/I lie upon my couch and dream/of further pie and whipping cream/I had a wife who liked to talk/and said that I should take a walk/after heavy meals, not purr/I wonder what became of her?

Time was when a hug did not/ever cause a second thought/People poked and pinched a lot/It never put you on the spot/Now a look that seems too wry/causes such a hue and cry/that I think it's best if we/act just like an amputee.

Team building exercises are a waste of time, I trow/they're either idiotic or a lot of wind to blow/and sometimes they do mimic cultic dramas quite insane/like running 'round all naked while you lug a ball and chain/if people don't know how to work together, it's a shame/but it is not a reason to resort to some damn game.

The Feast.

 

The day will come when all will feast

with our Lord, the Great High Priest.

A celebration is in store

for scapegoats, outcasts, and the poor.

The high and mighty, though, will sigh --

as they are served with humble pie.

 

Prose Poem: Which way to Sego?

 

If only North Dakota were closer,

I could walk to it.

Breathe in that scent of watchful waiting;

Hear the quiet hum of icicles fighting the sun.

If only I could get to North Dakota tonight --

I feel certain someone would have a piece of

cud for me to thoughtfully chew on

for the rest of my life.

And people would nod at me,

in a friendly manner,

and not talk very much.

But no -- I'm stuck way out here between 

leering mountain ranges;

a victim of encroaching prosperity, surrounded by

cunning do-gooders who want to help me

improve myself.

They never stop talking.

They give me water with special

molecules in it.

Ancient inedible grains 

that go down like gravel.

They don't even stop talking to eat.

When I look at them, all I see

is Doris Day.

When I look deeper, all I see

are plastic bags floating in the wind.

They tease me incessantly

to invest in cyber widgets;

they tell me my money will grow

exponentially. 

I don't even know what

'exponentially' means.

They want to lave me in essential oils.

Take me into salt caves.

Cure my malaise with a perky smile

and a positive attitude.

They attack my cherished melancholy

like committed terrorists.

If I can't reach North Dakota,

maybe I can get to a western 

ghost town.

Sit silently on a hill of mine tailings.

Immerse myself in the fumes

of underground coal fires.

Let my veins fill with alkali. 

Which way to Sego, kind sir?

And don't come near me with that

skin moisturizer!  

Photo Essay: A Postcard Portrait History of President Joe Biden's Family Tree.

 

Today's Timericks.

 

Pastor Stewart-Allen Clark/has now really made his mark/telling maidens plain so shy/that they need to beautify/their dull faces so to rouse/men to want to be their spouse/With no money in his plate/told his pulpit to vacate/this poor preacher now resides/far from any blushing brides. 

When you shake the money tree/who cares about trajectory?/As long as I am getting mine/I won't waste breath on some big whine/about the undeserving poor/who also this time 'round will score/a check from Uncle Sammy's purse/I love he's now a free wet nurse! 

Reporters ought to know by now/police expect them to kowtow/to their demands to leave a place/or get some cayenne in the face/Though it's their job to cover news/some judges find that's no excuse/to witness what police may do/when protestors have come in view.