There are very few opportunities in life to have it both ways; semicolons are the rare instance in which you can; there is absolutely no downsides. — The Case for Semicolons, New York Times Magazine, Feb. 9, 2021

Why all this sudden Sturm und drama

Over a dot above a comma?

English rules and norms and laws

Allow for one before a clause,

That only has a passing link

To what precedes. It meant a wink

When nestled in a right paren

(Before emojis;), way back when.

True, it is a fine gradation

Of grammar, sense and punctuation. 

But there are such a myriad

Of other marks: the period,

The asterisk, the bracket, dash

The forward and the backward slash

So let’s discuss apostrophes,

Not semicolonoscopies. 

The bare-nosed wombat squeezes out nearly 100 six-sided turds every day—an ability that has long mystified scientists. Now, researchers say they have uncovered how the wombat intestine creates this exceptional excrement. —How do wombats poop cubes? Scientists get to the bottom of the mystery

I never saw a purple cow

I hope I never see one

But I can tell you anyhow,

If I did, I’d flee one.

.

I never saw a purple wombat

I think they must be scary

Like creatures out of Mortal Kombat,

Big and mean and hairy.

.

They howl and screech just like a tomcat

When shit comes out all square-y

Dogs that like to nom-nom-nom scat

Better should be wary.

A sudden silence fills the air, hush overtakes the crowd noise.

The Twitstorm passes out to sea, and blows away the Proud Boys,

Militia men and QAnon and all those other loud goys,

Living out their fantasy, a life of endless MAGA,

Patriotic cosplay, a neo-Nazi saga.

.

The alt-right herd of Boogaloos, “fine people on both sides,”

Have boogied out the exits, glad to save their hairy hides,

As changes sweep the landscape, unstoppable as tides,

And wash away the unwashed mob, who never got to MAGA.

The voice they hear inside their heads belongs to Lady Gaga.

.

The snake that’s on the Gadsden Flag is just an ouroboros,

Biting its own tail while being stepped on by George Soros.

The lizard-brained one lumbers off, just like a brontosaurus,

Or maybe a RINOceros, driven mad by MAGA,

Gone extinct like dodos, woolly mammoths or the quagga.

What was it like going deep in the Deep State?

Storming the doors like a herd of mad sheep? Fate

Called your name and you took that big leap. Great

Minds think alike, but thinking comes cheap. Wait—

What were you thinking when you said “Hang the Veep”? Eight

Years in Leavenworth? It’s a date you should keep, mate.

Your god is a tyrant, a blowhard, and cheapskate.

What you have sown you also will reap:

Hate.

WASHINGTON (AP) — The Trump Administration wants to change the definition of a showerhead to let more water flow, addressing a pet peeve of the president who complains he isn’t getting wet enough.

Publicly talking about the need to keep his hair “perfect,” President Donald Trump has made increasing water flow and dialing back long held appliance conservation standards — from light bulbs to toilets to dishwashers — a personal issue.

The bathroom in the master suite high up in Trump Tower

Has a marble toilet, but its flush is lacking power.

And if you want to wash your hair, it sometimes takes an hour

Until your head gets wet enough inside your golden shower.

It takes a lot of water to lubricate your brain

And lots of water pressure to wash out a moral stain.

(Could there be a metaphor in there for your campaign

At the sight of soapy water, swirling down the drain?)

If you don’t want some bureaucrat standing in your tub

Counting out each gallon as you lather up and scrub

Then throw out your old showerhead and go buy one that’s newer

And you know who you have to thank, the nation’s Chief Shampooer.

Win a date with Sarah Palin!

Be among the first to mail in

A boxtop from your favorite ammo

A picture of yourself in camo

And you can take her someplace glam-o!

Imagine how their eyes will pop

When into ‘21’ you drop

With the twinkly winkly Fox

Talking head that’s full of rocks.

You’ll draw jealous looks and stares

As you discuss the world’s affairs

She’ll ask you why they needed two

Koreas, wouldn’t just one do?

You’ll ask her how she views the Fed

She’ll show you pictures of Todd’s sled.

Then here’s an outing sure to please:

A party thrown by Gay Talese.

With Woody Allen, Kati Marton

Steven Spielberg, Mischa Barton

Mayor Bloomberg, Charlie Rose

And some professor no one knows

In a dhoti and a turban

A specialist in third-world urban

Epidemiology.

He wrote a book.  Well, so did she.

And as reward for all her pains

You can take her to Elaine’s!

And there’ll be no more blogs or tweets

From her, denouncing the elites.

She’ll never shoot another moose.

She’ll sip white wine and nibble goose

Pate, and tote those Birkin bags

And editors of women’s mags

Like Cosmopolitan and Vogue

Will proclaim a hot new look: The Rogue.

And as she fashions new opinions

Abhorrent to Tea Party minions

You’d have to use a strong ablative

To convey how she went native.

Brett college years, with pleasure rife

And freshman women tooting on my fife.

How swiftly are ye flying by!

I hardly have the time to zip my fly!

The parties come, the parties go

But through it all, I’m just a bro’

Getting drunk and chasing tail

At Georgetown Prep and later on at Yale.

In after years, should troubles thwart

My chance to sit on the high court

I won’t forget the times I got the chance

To get some woman drunk and drop my pants.

So let us strive that ever we

Can hush this up eternally.

Because I’d really hate to go to jail

For stuff I did at Georgetown Prep and Yale.

Let us not politicize

This tragedy. Let’s stifle

The easy course, to criticize

The ones who made the rifle.

We will be the judges

Of who should bear the blame:

Boys acting out their grudges

Or seeking YouTube fame.

The evil in the souls of men

Has been there from the start

And background checks are useless when

There’s anger in their heart.

So now is really much too soon

For having this debate

Let’s put it off ‘til May or June

When it will be too late.

And anyway it’s kind of moot

‘Cause only a fanatic

Would take away your right to shoot

A semi-automatic.

We’re sending you our thoughts and prayers

Which ought to be enough.

The message is that Congress cares.

And if it doesn’t, tough.

It’s too bad that your husband’s dead,

And let me just say, frankly,

It’s not my fault. In fact, instead,

I think you ought to thank me.

I made the country great again!

I guarantee you that

I’ll win every state again.

I’m sending you a hat.

I guess right now you aren’t thrilled

But beggars can’t be choosers.

I like guys that weren’t killed

The other ones are losers.

Republicans are shocked! They’re shocked!

At what the news is bringing.

Democracy will not be mocked!

Their hands are wringing, wringing.

Republicans are shocked! They’re shocked!

And though they won’t be risking

Their jobs by going off half-cocked

There’s plenty of tsk-tsking.

Listen hard and you’ll discern

The swamp has started bubbling

With the sound of “deep concern”

The creatures find it “troubling.”

The eyes they roll, the chins they stroke

The brows they knit and furrow

The winks for those in on the joke,

Chuck Todd or Joe Scarborough.

Perplexed, afflicted by grave doubt

They gravely shake their head

Hoping that the truth will out

Once they’re safely dead.