Trump! Mueller! Russians! Flynn!

Oh what a state our nation’s in

Malloy! Lamont! Turnpike tolls!

That’s the way our small state rolls

Every moment there’s new news

Now matter which platform we choose

Facebook! Twitter! BuzzFeed! Vox!

“Failing” CNN or Fox!

And of course the New York Times

(Which is perfect for these rhymes)

But right now I don’t care a whit

About the rest, don’t give a spit

Because the paper of my choice

The one that gives this guy a voice

Is local — all about our town

So in this poem I’ll just get down

And offer up the year in verse

Don’t complain — it could be worse!

There could be mold in all our schools

There could be all our kids with Juuls

There could be one more crisis Compo

Than where a guy or gal can go

To seek relief when nature calls

We need to add a few more stalls

But please! Not here! the cries resound

From pickleballers (with a frown)

Don’t ruin our view! Don’t spoil the sand!

Find someplace else! is their demand

It’s too expensive! others cry

It’s way too big! some more folks sigh

But votes were taken; ayes prevailed

The bathroom boat — that ship has sailed

So late this spring (unless they sue)

South Beach gets a brand-new loo.

Let’s leave the shore and head to Main Street

Where generations once did meet

To browse the shops, and stroll and hang

Yet recent years have thinned the gang

Chain stores came, and chain stores went

As landlords raised and raised the rent

Mom-and-pops have up and left

Making downtown quite bereft

What ho! Now signs of life appear

The sounds of bustle we all hear

Some funky businesses are open

Merchants all along are hopin’

That a renaissance is near

Bedford Square gives cause for cheer

And don’t forget across the river

With new, fun arrows in our quiver

Those retail, restaurants and more

Are ready for us to explore

“Downtown” is thus a state of mind

As well as somewhere we can find

Experiences like no other

Except — forewarned! Oh no! Oh brother! —

There looms a growing awful pall

In Norwalk: one gigantic mall

So cross your fingers, say a prayer

That all the shoppers won’t go there.

One other story that was major

Will still continue, I would wager

Through 2019, ’20 too

In fact, as long as I or you

Will live — and even when we’ve died

Our kids and grandkids will be fried

And flooded, hurricaned and droughted

“Climate change will come!” we’ve shouted

For many years, and now it’s here

Worse, alas, than all our fear

The Saugatuck oft overflows

Compo too — and so it goes

Winds bring down a thousand trees

(Not even much — just a light breeze)

We freeze in winter, boil in summer

Worse than ever — what a bummer

The sense of doom we cannot shake

(But at least we missed a big earthquake).

So that is it — ’18, adieu

We’re ready for a year that’s new

What lies ahead we do not know

There is one thing that is true, though

“Woog’s World” will be here, every Friday

Telling tales of Westport, my way

So worry not; never fear

I’ll see you all next week, next year.

Dan Woog is a Westport writer, and his “Woog's World” appears each Friday. He can be reached at His personal blog is