Vaccination passports are a coming thing, I guess/even though they're causing the Right Wing a lot of stress/If you prove you're punctured you can do most anything/But if you haven't got one it will mean a large hamstring.
The White House don't leak gossip like it did in days of yore/when staff would spill their guts to sharp reporters by the score/Biden's folks are silent as the tomb; and that's the rub/Journalists are feeling that they're getting a scoop snub.
Man’s death after taco-eating contest sparks lawsuit against minor league team. (WaPo)
The basics of taco consumption
require some daring and gumption.
The filling you eat
is mystery meat --
the sauce is volcanic presumption.
There's an Asian woman lying on my bed.
I don't know who she is
or how she got into my house
and into my bedroom.
I've been home all day,
pondering deep subjects
like how to avoid paying too much
capital gains tax.
I never saw her enter my lovely
and spacious home, where I
love to entertain family, neighbors,
and guests of all sorts.
I'm really a very outgoing
and hospitable person
who cooks lavish meals
and is known for giving extravagant
presents at the drop of a hat.
So far I have not approached her
too closely, nor interacted with her.
But she knows I'm looking at her.
And she's smiling.
There's only one thing I can do --
leave immediately and sell the house.
I'll get a good price for it.
I'll throw in the teakwood furniture at
no extra charge.
And the strongbox of gold Krugerrands in the basement,
I'll also throw that in for free.
Like I say, I'm a generous guy --
who doesn't want any trouble.
Rock and flower both agree
there is nothing here to see;
yet it seems that destiny
made this scene for poetry.
Yet confess I must sadly
that I see but reality.
Deliver me some pizza/deliver me some fries/and while you go about it/send sixteen apple pies/There's nothing like calzone/while watching HBO/No calories are counted/out on my patio/Spring weather brings rejoicing/and many greasy tubs/of KFC and Popeye's/to me and my fat schlubs!
There was a lawmaker named Matt/who wanted some cuddling, stat/His staff didn't know/that this Romeo/would land them all in boiling fat.
The MLB steps up to bat/and leaves Georgia feeling quite flat/by pulling their game/from their state so lame/A great way to show tit-for-tat!
There once was a President Biden/who money was always providin'/to fix all the roads/and public commodes/despite all the GOP's chidin'.
The South may never rise again/considering the acumen/with which their states restrict the vote/It's getting many people's goat/So companies both small and great/are leaving Georgia to locate/somewhere that defies Jim Crow/where suffrage never must tiptoe.
The trees are going, going, gone/falling like it's Genghis Khan/chopping down an army brave/not a single trunk to save/Too bad Treebeard ain't around/to protect the battleground!
The mountains shout; the valleys sing --
to celebrate their hallowed king.
We, too, know of this great report:
that Christ the claims of death did thwart.
The world cannot withstand the cheer
that Christians feel this time of year!
At the age of fifty-five I decided
to run away from the circus
and join a home.
I packed enough cotton candy to last
me for a week and snuck off the lot
in the middle of night.
First I went to my son's house
in Walla Walla.
His mother was the bearded lady.
But he would not let me in.
Said I abandoned him and his mother
when times got hard back in the 90's.
I guess I can't blame him.
So I went to my daughter's house
in Oshkosh.
Her mother was head kinker.
She died during the Great Milwaukee
Circus Parade of 2009.
Run over by an elephant.
She was glad to see me
and made up a comfortable
back bedroom for me,
with a view of apple trees
from my window.
She only made one condition:
I was to never go into the garage,
where her husband kept something
secret and terrible.
I said okay, sure, no problemo.
I was very happy playing with
the grandkids and eating oatmeal
at the same table every morning.
I never got bored watching the mailman
come by every day at 4 p.m.
Then my daughter's husband disappeared.
He went into the garage one day and never
came out. The police searched for him
but got no clues from the garage.
When I went into the garage there was
nothing in there but hundreds of dried
peach pits.
My daughter was so distraught
that she packed up the kids
and joined my old circus --
as a ticket taker.
She left the house to me.
I take in boarders and embroider
face masks to make ends meet.
My God shall be my strength;
his might he shares with me,
when I obey his will
with true sincerity.
His spirit speaks of love;
of comfort, joy, and peace.
With God I hope all things;
his power brings release.
Where are the cranks of yesteryear;
the ones we jeered but did not fear?
Without a cyber platform stand
they rattled folk throughout the land.
On street corners, in public parks,
they gave us such delightful larks.
There was Carry Nation, then;
the terror of all drinking men.
She axed saloons with pious glee;
bartenders thought her quite screwy.
Emperor Norton, of old Frisco,
whose mental state was that of Crisco,
lorded over all the nobs --
and ruled the merry, laughing mobs.
He dined for free on lobster bisque
and granted titles without risk.
And nobody is quite surpassin'
the nuttiness of Harold Stassen.
For president he ran nine times
(he had a glitch with his enzymes.)
Taken first so seriously,
later on 'twas deliriously.
He was a laughing stock, but stay;
nobody said "Put him away!"
Compare those cranks of former days
with how we treat our mental strays
in this cruel, suspicious age --
when ev'ry quirk doth have its cage.
Police respond with rubber hose
to those who thumb a public nose.
The internet is laid with traps
for those who make the slightest lapse.
All innocent eccentricity
is treated with severity.
Mike Romanoff, we need your kind --
to give us laughing peace of mind!
