Stay home, young man, and read a Book
By Lou Blodgett
- 34 reads
It’s mocking and political,
this tale I have to tell,
about a Jan 6 rioter
they’d pardoned out of jail.
He found his dog had left him,
despite vows otherwise,
for a lovely family
unsmirched by shady ties.
He couldn’t meet the rent
and they’d deported Auntie Bess.
Where the gal’d been sent
was anybody’s guess.
He found his student loan bills
growing in arrears.
They’d taken down the windmills
just to prompt liberal tears.
It’s got to be that a man
can’t even buy toys!
Just a concept of a plan
for those good girls and boys.
He thought...
If the Orange Jesus only knew
the travesties his minions do!
He put on his walking shoes
and loaded up his knapsack too.
Now, there’s a ranch
resplendent in gold,
where the president tweets
crap he’s been told.
A mishmash he views
of ads and fibs.
He watched that fake news
and got it all mixed-
“Everyone smart
says he’s the best!
He’s Head and Shoulders
above the rest.
How dare they unmask
murderous thugs?
Scrub Force is for
upholstery and rugs!
MAGA caps sell
for a limited time!
Pre-Treat repels
soil and grime!”
He slurped that sham news
and his psyche heaved.
He became his own dupe
and he truly believed
that there were teeny anti-fascists
in his toupe.
Let’s just call him Clueless
was near halfway there
when he heard that POTUS
found things in his hair.
With Tegrin in hand
he continued his run.
A truck approached and
he stuck out a thumb.
The truck had two flags
planted firm in the bed,
and decals of liberals
in states of distress.
Apropos of the reasoning
found in his head
the driver thought Clueless
used a finger instead.
So, he raised some dust
and shouted- “Woo-hoo!”
leaving Clueless all mussed
at mile marker two.
Meanwhile, back at the ranch…
Presidential illusions
led to a task.
To evict delusions
from his head-grass.
He said- “There’s plenty
Antifa to catch.
Just bust the many
in my Astro Thatch!®”
World leaders, pleased,
had a view of their own-
“We’re just glad he’s
leaving Greenland alone.”
The news corps remaining
had to ask “Why
ain’t he campaigning
for My Pillow Guy?”
‘Cause he had teeny anti-fascists
in his toupe!
There in “The Wing”,
(since there’s now only one)
like else everything,
it all came undone.
In that colorless house
things had come to boil.
They impeached the louse
according to Hoyle.
Clueless trudged into town
perched on his uppers
and asking around,
found the new one at supper.
He tugged at his forelock
and curtsied and whined,
then suffered the mercies
of that second in line.
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