Today's Timericks: Why Police Have Been Quitting in Droves in the Last Year. (NYT)

 

Policemen have got a hard job/Messes they constantly swab/They don't get much thanks/keep little in banks/No wonder they quit in a mob.

Britney Spears: ‘I Just Want My Life Back’

(NYT)

Poor Britney Spears wants control/of a life that her guardians stole/She wants to be free/not as parolee/But unfettered, messy, yet whole.

A Culture War Between Hungary and Europe Escalates Over L.G.B.T. Bill.

(NYT)

Hungarians have passed a law/that sticks in the E.U.'s wide craw/Hungarians prate/you'd better be straight/or we'll turn you into scrimshaw. 

Members of Congress from states hit hardest by planned Postal Service delivery slowdowns say the agency should restore service and look elsewhere for cost savings.

(WaPo)

The Post Office wants to go slow/It's already glacial in flow/To save a few cents/they now will dispense/with anything like allegro.

Today's Timericks: We Are Very Free. How China Spreads Its Propaganda Version of Life in Xinjiang. (NYT)

 

China free?

Of course it's true!

If you think that 

white is blue.

Tech Giants, Fearful of Proposals to Curb Them, Blitz Washington With Lobbying.

(NYT)

Deck the halls

with lots of calls

from lobbyist

who do insist

with cash in hand

that Tech is grand.

So get in line;

the money's fine!

Kim Jong Un, fearing loss of control, has grooming and parenting advice for North Korean women.

(WaPo)

Kim Jong Un,

the stylish one,

tells comrades fair

to brush their hair.

He also sez

don't wear a fez.

His words are sweet,

though folk can't eat.

Today's Timericks: Tucker Carlson Calls Journalists ‘Animals.’ He’s Also Their Best Source. (NYT)

 

Writer's block

does not constrain

reporters from

their old refrain:

Call us any

name you choose,

as long as we

 can get some news!

The economy isn’t going back to February 2020. Fundamental shifts have occurred.

(WaPo)

Economies

are frenemies;

first they hug

and then they squeeze.

Unmasking the far right: An extremist paid a price when his identity was exposed online after a violent clash in Washington.

(WaPo)

It's called 'doxing'

and it's poxing

ultra-right

to lose their fight

by online outing --

but still they're shouting.

Laughing, clapping, cheering/the circus came to town/showing skill and pity/with acrobat and clown/No more those days of wonder/no blending of a crowd/as we sit home a-brooding/the TV on too loud.

A Compliment from a Friend

 

I received the following in an email today and thought I'd share it . . . because I am a flaming egomaniac.

I mean that at least partly seriously. One of the reasons you are as you are and do what you do is that your peculiar gifts contribute something important to the kaleidoscope of human existence. I suspect that at least part of that contribution is to keep things from getting too rigid, to keep reminding us and inspiring us to value and even indulge in whimsy and tomfoolery. There's value in structure, but there's also value in shaking up the structure a bit, making it more fluid and alive, allowing space for creativity, enjoyment, and surprise--even allowing space for the Spirit.

Today's Timericks: McConnell vows to block voting legislation, spurning Manchin’s compromise offer.

 

Old McConnell had a farm/where he did a lot of harm/blocking legislation aimed/at injustice to be tamed/A Senator who slops the hogs/while we're going to the dogs.

Record-setting heat blasts the West: ‘Your skin is almost sizzling.'

(WaPo)

It's so hot in western states/there's a law against ice skates/Temperatures have gone so high/that the lakes do ossify/Even Mr. Scratch won't stay/but tucks his tail and runs away/This is global warming writ/large enough to make us . . . um, sit up and take notice.

Bitcoin miners exit China, beat a path to the U.S. as crypto climate shifts.

(WaPo)

From their humble little cottage/bitcoin miners use much wattage/They consume entire grids/putting climate on the skids/What that means to you and me/is we won't have much a.c./Rolling brownouts soon will start/showing miners have no heart.

Some states are cutting off emergency food-assistance programs and making it harder to qualify.

(WaPo)

20 million people in the good ol' USA/go hungry on occasion -- not from diets, anyway/State governments are cutting aid to those who need it most/and think they're saving money -- so, at least, is what they boast/Just remember, governors, that starving people vote/maybe at the ballot, or perhaps with creosote. 

Prose Poem: A strange new world.

 

After the war/there was no one left/I signed the peace treaty/all by myself/then marched away/to start/a strange new world/Homo sapiens/were obviously out of the running/So I started with rabbits/Very efficient breeders/Too efficient/as it turned out/They soon went to war/with each other/over Lebensraum/hiring weasel mercenaries/to do the dirty work/So I tried tortoises/slow and steady/never lose their tempers/and very hesitant breeders/They liked to eat/only prickly pear cactus/and tried to turn the entire planet/into a desert/the perfect environment/for prickly pear/I turned from them to iguanas/After all, look at Godzilla/an iguana who made good in Tokyo/They sat on rocks/and sunned themselves/Never argued or pushed an agenda/Of course, their tendency to blow sea water out of their nostrils/was disconcerting/but I figured/Hey, if that's the worst thing/about them/they can become the dominant species/no problem/But then the space aliens/landed/and were in cahoots/with the weasels/and everything/went to hell/in a hand basket/The upshot/is that planet Earth/is now nothing/but a parking lot/for spaceships/managed by/Cleverciti Systems/out of Beta Centauri/And me?/I run a gazpacho stand next to the veeblefetzer works/It's a living.

Prose Poem: The World Ran out of Heart.

 

When the world ran out of soap/it ran out of heart/It all happened this year/when the algorithms for/soap manufacturing were /hacked and held for ransom/Nobody/thought it important/enough to pay anything/so the ability to make soap disappeared/Do you know how to make/soap?/No one does/Not even Bill Nye the Science Guy/He tried/ and came up with pink gelatin/Me personally/I ran out of soap/on May 15th/and now smell like a dead carp/I have dirt blisters/and my hair hangs down lankly/like Severus Snape's/Without personal hygiene/the social fabric/becomes rank and filthy/Bulldozers level homeless camps/Old baseball cards are burned in public squares/Every third person/in Vermont/has joined an amateur clown club/Billboards are up with movie spoiler alerts/Hasbro taks over Bitcoin/and turns it into Monopoly money/The FDA bans dill pickles/Not to mention/spelling 'Albuquerque' correctly becomes/mandatory/in order to vote/Me/I've bought an olive press/in Italy/When I get there/I'll lather myself/with olive oil/and then scrape it off/and go lie in the sun/That's how the ancient Greeks kept clean/You can look it up in Ulysses.  

Poetic Odds & Ends.

 

My friends will forgive me when foolish I act/My lust for the spotlight still leaves me no tact/Absolve me, my dear hearts, and let folly slide/if I have embarrassed you with my ill pride. 

Ears are prone 

to itch for praise

so tell your boss

she needs a raise.

If you want

a long long life

never march to

drum and fife.

Stomach rumbles

do remind

that to my flesh

I must be kind.

Ham and eggs

are good for me;

just don't ask an

actuary.

Buttered toast

is very well

but it plays hob

with my lapel.

Why get up

if you can't sleep?

Work from bed

by shearing sheep.

What resembles

pork and beans?

The content of

most magazines.

No use praying

for clean air

when you car's

in disrepair. 

Candidates say

little of note.

They always find

tripe gets the vote. 

Got a call

from Kolkata --

said they were

my alma mata.

Made donation --

now I'm busted.

Goes to show

phones can't be trusted.

Prose Poem: The I.R.S. almost never audits private equity firms, even as whistle-blowers have filed claims alleging illegal tax avoidance.

 While intensive examinations of large multinational companies are common, the I.R.S. rarely conducts detailed audits of private equity firms, according to current and former agency officials.  

(NYT)

So I dropped a dollar bill on the sidewalk/and this guy pounces on it like a cheetah/I said "Hey that's mine!"/He gave me a serene smile before answering/"Mister, this is your lucky day/I'm gonna use your dollar/for a private equity deal/that will knock your socks off/"I don't want my socks knocked off" I told him severely/"I just want my friggin dollar back!"/He paid no attention to my outrage/Instead he gathered a large crowd around him/and began tearing bits off my dollar/and handing them out/to complete strangers/telling them "Give me all your spare change for this bit of bona fide/U.S. currency/and I'll guarantee  twenty percent profit within two weeks"/People were slow to respond at first/but then he added/"And folks, you'll never pay any taxes on the money you make with this deal"/That did the trick/The crowd almost smothered him/giving him quarters and dimes and five dollar bills/even credit cards/He pocketed it all/looking as smug/as a Republican denying the vote to a new minority/When the crowd was gone he told me/"Meet me back at this exact same spot in one week and we'll divvy up the loot"/Then he disappeared in a cloud of brimstone/I was skeptical/but I came back in a week/and by golly/he was right there/with a satchel full of hundred dollar bills/which he handed to me with a wink/then mounted his Tengu/to fly off into the marmalade sunset.

Today's Timerick: An Exposé Has Congress Rethinking How to Tax the Superrich. (NYT)

 A report showing that the richest Americans, including Jeff Bezos, Elon Musk and Warren Buffett, pay almost no taxes has refocused attention on the tax code.

When the worker for her wages finds the taxes burdensome,

and cannot get the ends to meet she may feel mighty glum.

She ought to learn a thing or two from Bezos, Musk, and more --

For the wealthy of our species are more scheming than the poor.

Lazarus the Bible beggar never had a decent meal;

while down the street the cakes and ale for Mr. Dives were very real.

When wealthy Dives at last was took he never lacked for rum and coke --

for the loaded of our species are more blessed than the broke.

At the homeless shelter they are puzzled and made troubled

with how the rich accumulate and have their income doubled

without a bit of toil or moil, just sitting 'round all greedy --

for the upscale of our species are more lazy than the needy.

Stocks and bonds and cyber-coin are juggled with the greatest ease

by the plutocrats and minions, while the beggar's on his knees.

"Someone's got to herd the money" says the robber baron fat --

for the moneyed of our species are more nimble than the flat.

There is no use in complaining that the rich get all the breaks;

that they stay so full of laughter while the poor have but headaches.

For the world is cantilevered to support those with the dough --

Yes, the well-off of our species are more quickened than the slow.