Not a snowflake’s chance in mid-August
of Goldwater ever changing his stripes
Nope. Ever since he could palm a frankfurter weenie
he's been somewhere to the right of Mussolini
A proud match for William Buckley, that Barry
horn-rimmed glasses, living free on the Arizona prairie
Uh, what? He’s gone? OK. Who can I substitute? Reagan? Gone too?
How ‘bout Trump? I don’t think so. Too fickle, you see
Donald Trump made nothing so great again
Except his big hair fancy once again,
And the poor old puppeteer of punch lines
Faces a boomerang of mines.
Donald Trump,
Fell into a foreign policy slump.
Forgetting the Strait of Hormuz,
Forced he’s to focus on Hairmuz.
Donald Trump's coiffeur of hair,
Kept his critics in utter despair---
If held together by sheer will power,
Or industrial-grade lacquer?
In Las Vegas Donald Trump
Tried to give the economy a bump.
But no one paid him as much heed
As his massive golden mane did.
Donald Trump’s fuller head of hair
Left media memes in a frozen stare.
The AI-made serum played magic trick,
And his thin thatch turned unto bushy thick.
Donald Trump
Caused rumour mills to take a thespian jump.
And photo shops were suddenly busy
With an over-the-top teased-up medley.
____________________________
Happenings | 13.08.2026 | America, art, humour, political, satire, Clerihew
I agree it’s a flaw, to lack respect
For the usual silly proud words that match
Some symbolic achievement where I didn’t act
Didn’t bother to start “my way” from scratch
Wasn’t able to worry about learning curve
Didn’t listen to those dour faces drag
Took them maybe easier than they deserve
Never waved any bright or a bleached rag
I don’t have the required reserves of hypocrisy
Wouldn’t initiate any commences
Neither I stand for empire nor democracy
With folly defense at my own expenses
Call me a psycho gripped by indifference
Call me whatever you like but don’t kill
Deceased, I won’t add any sensual coherence
To the mess you alter thinking it’s your will.
PMs come and go, face dissent,
Resident am I permanent.
To doddle all the time
My duty is in prime,
Seven PMs came here and went
In fifteen years I came
What a chair changing game!
As Chief Mouser I’m a lifelong tenant.
___________________________
Happenings |14.07.2026 |14.07.2026 | cat, humour, political, satire, Limerick
Note: British prime ministers can learn a trick or two from the resident cat who has been there at Ten Downing Street ever since 2015 as ‘Chief Mouser to the Cabinet Office’. This limerick is set in his words.
How on earth can I relate to the news they choose
It’s enough I’m forced to pay politicians dues
Comments without commas, coming each and every day
Commons talking pros and cons, never to delay
Let them Russian dancers sing, and Ukrainian singers dance
Let the Iranian strait float, I won’t take a chance
To go there, over there, and right there to see
How it goes I care as much as they care for me
Life seems better without news they put on the roll
Fooling me about the things out of my control
South Korea got their bronze, than predictably
Went to hell, I beg your pardon, to obscurity
It’s a snippet I remembered, and it hasn’t gone
Every game contains another, with no players shown.
old Senator Bramlin trips
truth dodges his tongue when he quips
promises fall from his lips
Why dwell on differences?
As the sun with the moon
Shares its light, we can be
Candles for one another --
Warmth is wax and a wick
Stupid, a scorching breeze
Nurturers of Forests they
Claim
While blazing all the trees!
Cat has dandruff I sneeze --
A sleepover with dogs
Risks fleas; getting honey will be
An encounter with bees --
Far more conducive than
Man – with a match for a
Soul, and a heart like a fan.
These days once treasured
monuments are let
to weather away
or are bullied
and bulldozed to rubble.
Others have small cracks
picked at by compulsive minds
bent on excavating small lesions
into large, gaping wounds.
We are left with sad avenues
lined with inflated puppets
convulsing in weird gyrations
by belly fulls of blown air,
each with a power cord
stuck up you know where.
Let’s create authorities
Highlight their careers
Hide in vast minorities
Live in constant fears
Some of their performances
Threaten our rights
Didn't we expect all this
To perpetuate their lies?
So let’s excuse authorities
Their fails and victories
Their top priorities
Their contradictories
Let’s excuse us commons too
Aren’t we all suspected
In the crimes we have to do
For those we elected
They keep worsening our lives
For a greater purpose
And we cannot get more wise
Although we have learnt those
Bitter lessons, but in vain
It’s a sharper’s game
One can vote, or can abstain
It turns out the same
It's sobering as Don gets madder and madder
While functioning under duress
That while we created "Shoots And Ladders"
The Persians created Chess
*Persia renamed Iran in 1939
Do you know who the father of terrorism is?
Do you know who the mother of terrorism is?
Do you know who mentors the terrorists?
Do you know who shields the terrorists?
Surely, you know it all; surely, you know history!
For you are the "peace-loving" American!
For you are the "freedom-loving" Saudi Arabian!
For you are the "cricket-loving" Pakistani!
For you are the "democracy-loving" Chinese!
We, too, are aware of all their conspiracies—
For we are the blood-stained citizens of a world victimized by terror!
This hidden game is an Open Secret!
Democracy is a portmanteau word
People in power, it’s well understood
The power is huge, and the people are not
They give power to a few who sound good
And those representatives are ruling class
They don’t smell like “demos” at all
But they like to be chosen by them, or by us
As democracy fable is told
But there is a sweet paradox I discovered
The assortment of those who campaign
Can’t recognize that it’s people in power
Because ruling’s an elitist game
Plain people aren’t very ‘elite’, to be frank
It’s believed they are not that refined
So what it boils down to is the front rank
Of the very top people aligned
But do you believe it? I doubt if you can
Considering what’s on the list
And what is prepared for us by those men
Looks not too enticing, at least.
Democracy is a hoax
And it was meant to be
As it is, a set of sad jokes
A cheerful old trickery
You are offered to favour one
From the faces chosen not by you
The work is already done
It’s preset, in case you won’t do
So it’s always a meritocracy
No demos reserved, but elite
Travestied as democracy
Telling you what you need
It’s a master and slave metonymy
As it was, but the good news is
The elite can’t stand mind autonomy
Much more than in previous years
That’s encouraging, cause it seems
The democracy plot gets worn out
Age reveals those repressive schemes
I could easily live without
“We have the politicians we deserve.”
What kind of “we” I’m synched with on brainwaves?
How many “we” are surreptitiously reserved
For the reunion, in whose family grave?
It’s plain to see what politicians are about
They’re ubiquitous like weather, that brings weeds
To every garden, and they can’t be weeded out
But it’s not good to blame me for their deeds
So I don’t need my politicians and their mob
But surely they deserve people like me
And that’s the awful part of their job
They know it, and demand a larger fee..
I built a grand salad of chaos and cheer
With pickles that whisper and cheese that can hear
I tossed in three noodles, a shoe, and some jam
Then sprinkled confetti on top of a yam
A carrot recited a speech to a bean
While olives formed conga lines nobody’s seen
I added cold waffles and lukewarm perfume
A pineapple slice that demanded more room
Two croutons eloped with a radish in June
And celery tried to lasso the moon
A tomato complained that the lettuce was loud
So I stirred in a cloud just to quiet the crowd
I folded in glitter and half of a map
A cucumber wearing a coat and top hat
A raisin declared it was now in command
While spinach applauded with leaves for a hand
The bowl tried to flee but I held it in place
This salad makes no sense and that is its grace
Nothing I said was close to evident
Look at me I could be president
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