In Which Schadenfreude Isn't Going To Cut It

While part of me can't fight the urge to say
"I'm kind of glad it isn't only us" --
There really isn't any decent way
That anything requires this kind of fuss.
Olympics are a plum, we're always told,
And something over which great cities fight
For hosting priv'lege. Might I be so bold,
However, and observe that this stuff might
Make others hesitate, in the first world
To offer to abide such things? I think
In future, when the colored rings, unfurled
Are offered, they will simply cause a stink
Of NIMBYism. They'll be banishéd
Like toxic waste to the third world instead.

In Which I Rant At Flying Purple Republicrats

I'm really mad at both of you. Bad kids
Should be sent to the corner, but instead
You both continue with your childish bids
To capture my attention. Neither red
Nor blue am I, and this is largely 'cause
You neither of you come a wee bit close
To doing what you've said (to much applause),
And both of you should take a giant dose
Of STFU juice. And yet, I know
That nothing I say here or elsewhere will
Suspend or even slow the endless flow
Of histrionic emails. They won't kill
America, your foes across the aisle,
Without your help. I'll vote, but I won't smile.

SONNET RANT: In Which Capitalists Are Rebuked When They Complain About Capitalism

Free enterprise, what makes this country great,
Say many, but there always comes a time
When jingoists and their ilk must partake
Of their own words, when they cry "it's a crime
That this guy's charging me so much for work
He's done for me today!" and when said day
Is one of rest, when he was home. That "jerk"
Is just as free as you to spend, his way,
His precious summer hours. And this July,
This Fourth, well it's a holiday for all.
Yes, your emergency sure sucks, but I
Don't see why that means that, when you must call
For help and interrupt another's fun
That he can't charge you more. That's freedom, son.

In Case You're Wondering, I Don't Support The Death Penalty Either, But That's A Matter For Another Sonnet

I don't care who you are or what you've done,

You don't deserve a simulated death,

A thumbscrew, rack or shock. I am not one

Who cries for blood like some Lady MacBeth;

I'd rather not be screaming at a spot

On hands or conscience. Hurt me and I'll take

The right to hurt you back but I will not

Do so when you're tied down, or to a stake.

You'll stand and face me equally, and if

I can't even the odds myself I'll use

The justice system, slow but sure and stiff.

You get your say, I mine, but I refuse

To act like you, nor would I e'er respect

Such being done on my behalf unchecked.

In Which I Rant Not A Little About Wildfires And A Six-Legged Cause Thereof, Even Though I Dig Insects As A Whole

I feel for Santa Barb'ra as the fire,
It edges closer with the worst intent
(If fire may have intent, this one's is dire).
Someday that will be me and mine. Ill-spent
Has been the time and resources to fight
Dendroctonus - the pine beetle, whose spread
Across the Med Bow Forest came to light
When I was just a sprat. Now trees are dead
And ready to catch fire, and when they do
Encampment and my Saratoga both,
Baggs too and all the little spots are through.
The timber industry, whose normal growth
And work could have prevented this outcome
Were killed off long before. It's beyond dumb.

Sonnet Rant: Invasive Species And Their Careless Carriers

Swine Flu is not the only thing that's spread
By careless people doing careless things.
Five hundred thousand bats, we learn, are dead
From white-nose fungus. Silent are their wings,
And closed now are the caves from which they flew.
Meanwhile a pamphlet's making all the rounds
To lecture boaters never to pooh-pooh
That zebra and the quagga mussels' bounds
Will keep expanding, grow from lake to lake,
Its larvae hitching rides in boaters' tanks.
The fungus, too, may come in people's wake
As they tour caves around the country. Thanks.
Free Comic Book Day was my topic 'til
I read this news. And now I've gone all shrill.