Postcard to President Trump

Our Newsroom Doesn’t Have a Poet Laureate. But This Retired Circus Clown Is Pretty Close.

Tim Torkildson is a retired clown who got the attention of New York Times journalists when he began emailing original limericks to the newsroom several times a week.

By Lela Moore  

Tim Torkildson’s limericks — he calls them “Timericks” — are a familiar sight in the email inboxes of New York Times journalists.

Several times a week, he sends them to 22 journalists, including eight at The Times.

“He is often clever and on point regarding human foibles, the press and our current national situation,” said Dennis Overbye, a science reporter at The Times who regularly receives Mr. Torkildson’s poems. Often, Mr. Overbye said, they relate to articles that he has written.

At 64, Mr. Torkildson is retired from clowning and lives in Provo, Utah. “I was born different,” he said. “I truly believe I was born to make people laugh.” He was born in Minneapolis; his father was a bartender and his mother a homemaker.

“To them, the best thing in the world was to have a good steady job, even if it was boring,” Mr. Torkildson said.

During his senior year of high school, he applied to and was accepted by Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Clown College. He said that after his mother called the Better Business Bureau to determine if the school was legitimate, she gave him her blessing.

Then Mr. Torkildson hitchhiked to Venice, Fla., in 1970 to begin what he called “boot camp for funnymen.”

He did not expect to end up with a job. “I was the worst, least funny student they’d ever seen,” he said. “I couldn’t juggle, couldn’t ride a unicycle, my makeup was horrible. I never expected that they’d hire me.”

In 1974, he left the circus to serve as a Mormon missionary. He worked in Thailand under the auspices of the Red Cross, performing his clown show in schools, prisons and other venues.

Upon completing his two-year mission, he briefly performed again with Ringling Brothers.

One of his early recipients was Lizette Alvarez, a former New York Times Miami bureau chief. She shared some of his poems with her husband, Don Van Natta, Jr., a senior writer for ESPN who is the founder of The Sunday Long Read and a former New York Times correspondent.

“Tim was sending her limericks off Florida news stories; Lizette thought they were fun and funny and she’d share some with me,” Mr. Van Natta said in an email. “He has a particularly sharp eye for stories that skew writers and editors.”

Mr. Torkildson now serves as senior limerick editor for the online edition of The Sunday Long Read. To craft his news poetry, he reads four newspapers online daily and, depending on what stories strike his fancy, constructs a limerick or two.

“I usually choose my stories by first going to Google news and entering keywords of current interest to me,” Mr. Torkildson said.

“I don’t have a TV, I don’t watch local news, don’t listen to radio news. My news comes from newspapers — the last best defense against tyranny and against falsehood,” he said.

No Christmas Paycheck for Hundreds of Workers -- Small Donors Beware! -- Facebook is a Blabbermouth -- Barcoding Fish Eggs.

The partial government shutdown most powerfully impacts the lives of low-wage workers, particularly those who clean and secure museums and other mammoth Washington buildings frequently seen in movies or on postcards. 
by Seung Min Kim, Ian Shapira, and Rachel Weiner for the Washington Post

Olympic gods may argue and explode with righteous ire,

but why is it the little guy whose feet are to the fire?

Cossetted and insulated from financial woe,

the Trumpster and the Congress do not care and do not know

that hundreds, maybe thousands, of the Capitol's mum staff

have nothing left for Christmas and don't hear their children laugh.

I wish those mighty humbugs dining on organic greens

might someday be reduced to living on just pork and beans.

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WASHINGTON—Republicans dominated small-donor fundraising in the era of direct mail and telemarketing, partly because a bumper crop of companies saw an easy way to cash in on the lucrative political industry. But that capitalist ethos has backfired as small contributions have moved online.

by Julie Bykowicz for the WSJ

I used to get so many pleas
for money in the mail, like fleas.
But now they put the bite on me
with online begging constantly.
Some charity or politicking
gives my wallet quite a licking --
Republicans and Democrats
want me to save their habitats
with just five dollars, s'il vous plait;
I wish they all would go away.
The internet is one big scam.
I'm moving to the Moon, I am! 

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■ Facebook shared users’ personal details with advertisers even though the company had promised not to do so, the agency said.

by Natasha Singer for the NYT

If you want the world to know

what you buy and where you go,

how you brush your teeth at night,

what sets off your appetite,

why you never bite your nails

and a billion more details,

post on Facebook and you'll find

you life story has been mined.

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Barton and his team have pulled fish eggs from Scripps Pier with a plankton net every week for six years, doing DNA barcoding, egg by egg, to find out which fish are breeding.   by Deborah Sullivan Brennan for the LATimes

Some scientists so zealous be

that they know not hyperbole.

Their all consuming dedication

leads them to much cogitation.

But counting fish eggs in a jar

would make me long for caviar.

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China, the Antichrist -- Trump, the Autocrat -- Our Children, All Geniuses -- Russia, the Usurer.

Mr. Xi, apparently concerned that independent worship might pose a threat to the ruling Communist Party’s dominance over daily life in China, has sought to bring Christianity more firmly under the party’s control. The government this year banned online sales of the Bible, burned crosses, demolished churches and forced at least a half-dozen places of worship to close.

by Javier C. Hernandez for the NYT

The Christ is not a symbol to be waved like any flag.

His life is not a subject that a government can gag.

That gentle Man from Galilee lives in the hearts of men;

where He works lovely miracles before He comes again.

No party or dominion can define His love supreme;

their power and their glory shall pass on like airy dream.

The words He left behind Him, and the words He says today

through prophets and apostles cannot just be thrown away.

Demolish all the churches and harass the humble folk

who take upon them Christ's own name and voluntary yoke;

you cannot stop the King of Kings from claiming all His own,

although today they may stand mute and seem to be alone.

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Another key concern among investors came from reports over the weekend that Trump had discussed whether he could fire Powell. Trump has leveled unprecedented public criticism at Powell for interest rate hikes even though the nation’s economy has been growing strongly this year, which normally causes the Fed to inch up its key rate.  by Jim Puzzanghera for the LATimes. 

There was a blonde White House crackpot
who of finances didn't know squat.
With all his bluster
he was just like Custer,
and let the economy rot.

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The notion that becoming a musician makes you smarter has long been popular. Learning to play an instrument has been linked in several studies to higher intelligence.

by Sue Shellenbarger for the WSJ

A child who can toot on a horn

will Harvard or Yale soon adorn.

The tot that plays violin sweet

will have an IQ can't be beat.

A prodigy on xylophone

will never need beg student loan.

And kiddies with good embouchure

will never toil in jobs obscure.

Too bad I was raised no songbird,

just to be seen and not heard!

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In exchange for modest loans and bailouts over the past decade, Russia now owns significant parts of at least five oil fields in Venezuela, which holds the world’s largest reserves, along with 30 years’ worth of future output from two Caribbean natural-gas fields.   by Anthony Faiola & Karen DeYoung. 

A loan is a trap for the fool;

the usurer then has a tool

to suck victims dry

and then by and by

feed on the corpse like a ghoul.

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Postcard to President Trump

New York City: Capital of Fare Dodgers -- Meet One of the Dumbest People on California Freeways Today -- The Last Christmas for Sears --

But it has not been clear exactly why fare evasion is up. New Yorkers, it turns out, have many reasons for not paying.  by Emma G. Fitzsimmons for the NYT.

No subway fare in New York Towne;

when tolls go up the folks sneak down.

Their reasons for evasion might

be so legit or really bite.

Whatever causes them to shirk,

it gives 'em all that New York smirk.

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A man who police said shot himself in the ankle while playing with a handgun in a car on a freeway in Los Angeles County was taken to a hospital early Monday, authorities said.

by Hannah Fry for the LATimes

The dumbest people always thrive

when on the freeway they do drive.

They play with guns; they have to text --

ye gods, you morons, what is next?

A headstand or a tooth extraction --

if you've a brain, tis but a fraction.

That's why I always take the bus;

I'm bigger than some addled cuss! 

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This is the last Christmas at Sears for thousands of workers across the country after Sears Holdings Corp.filed for bankruptcy protection in 

October . . .  

by Chip Cutter for the WSJ

Dear Santa: With some great big tears

I'm asking you to bring back Sears.

They were my holiday delight;

Their catalog made Christmas bright.

Oh do not let the scroogey banks

thin out some more the lovely ranks

of places that gave me a thrill

before I ever took Advil.

Kris Kringle, if you've magic yet --

please help those elves get out of debt!

And let the festive shops that bore

such marvels as the stout Kenmore

reopen with their employees

so none will suffer cashless freeze!

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As blue chips sank even deeper into the red after weeks of chaos, Trump tried to assign sole blame for the sell-off to the Federal Reserve, likening the central bank to a golfer who “can’t putt.”

by Thomas Heath & Philip Rucker for the Washington Post

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the Fed

those grinches were plotting to strike money dead.

They'd raise up the rates for all int'rest until

the banks couldn't lend to the poor and the ill.

They snickered and gloated, and had no remorse

that soon they could shut down most ev'ry golf course.

Instead of full stockings and presents galore,

Americans would find themselves next day real poor.

As they shut the bank vaults and ignored our great plight,

they yelled: "Merry Christmas, and go fly a kite!"

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Postcard to President Trump

Santa in the Middle East -- Deck the Halls with Salmonella -- Is There a Defibrillator in Your Stocking? --

Various accounts widely shared in local social media during the weekend before Christmas had Papa Noel, as Christians in Iraq and Syria call him, being arrested by the Iraqi police, drafted into the Syrian army or going off to fight the Islamic State.

by Rob Nordland for the NYT

Santa in the Middle East

is busier than brewer's yeast.

He goes to war or lands in jail;

he has no time to read his mail.

His reindeer must have gone to seed;

his elves disperse like ripe ragweed.

He isn't coming Christmas night;

instead he's in some crude bar fight.

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Jennie-O Turkey Store Sales is recalling 164,210 pounds of raw turkey because of possible salmonella contamination, the Agriculture Department says.

by Michael Brice-Saddler for the Washington Post

Salmonella reaches out

to give our holidays a clout.

In turkey now it lies in wait

our bowels to really corrugate.

So stick to brandied eggnog, all --

and let mild hiccups deck the hall!

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A resourceful batch of consumers have adopted a novel method for draining their FSAs before use-it-or-lose-it deadlines kick in at year’s end. They’re using the accounts to fund blood-pressure monitors, transcutaneous electrical nerve stimulation machines and other qualified medical products as holiday gifts.

by Janet Adamy for the WSJ

Bandages and cotton swabs are good enough for me

for presents at this yuletide fest around the Christmas tree.

A jumbo bottle of Aleve; some Tiger Balm for aches --

lots of Visine for my eyes, to see the snowy flakes.

No candy canes to suck on; a thermometer will do.

And Preparation H for all that backside hoop-de-doo.

I'm such a hypochondriac that castor oil would lift

my spirits more than any other kind of Christmas gift! 

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Postcard to President Trump

Haiku