♫This is what we call the SONNET Show!!!!♫

Not much to report from today. Eleanor faceplanted trying to drag a hose across the block to nurture a street tree that its immediate neighbor has been ignoring. Nothing broken, but plenty of pain. I did some of the All The Things at work and cut out at 3.  But then there were poems, based on the works of W. Shakespeare's spiritual descendants; the six of the M. Python persuasion.

A friend posted this:



Soon as I saw it, I knew a similar homage had to be made to the less famed, but better in my view, Penguin On Top Of The Television sketch. So I made one:

It merely stands, as all can plainly see
There’s little of concern except this much:
Its egg might fall behind its perch TV
Unless it is a male- looks fairly butch

Perhaps it came to rest here from next door
But only if we were at Ye South Pole
In fear and panic I cry “Myanmar!”
(As Burma is now known, or so I’m told….)

Be there a zoo nearby which lacks a bird?
What zoo, ye ask? I know not which ye mean!
I’m not Bernofsky or Baron Attenborough!
(Depending on your version of the scene….)

The penguin stares, to cries of “Intercourse!”
And then is gone, with much explosive force.

That's all. I'm here all week. Unless I explode, as well.