“Throwing away food is like stealing from the tables of the poor.”
–Pope Francis I.
Wasting food is like stealing from the poor,
His Holiness informs us – and he’s right
To some extent. I heartily abhor
The waste of food. It makes me want to fight.
Who wastes more food, however, day and night,
Than Mark P. Shea, who stuffs it in his face
And stores it on his paunch and ass, despite
The starving multitudes? What a disgrace!
The calories that settle into place
Visibly on his soft, expanding frame
Could have fed members of the human race.
For shame, you stumbling, belching mass! For shame!
Admonish him. He’ll stuff in more and more.
Hypocrite Shea is stealing from the poor!
(Note: An earlier version of this sonnet rhymed “poor” according to its more formal pronunciation – with “endure” in one case and with “secure” in another. I adjudged the result as too Oxbridge in tone, as if it were being recited through the wretched teeth of John Oliver. So I revised for the sake of us all. T.R.)