The Pols down in DeeCee loved taxes a lot
But the Drumpf, who lived up in Manhattan, did not.
The Drumpf hated taxes, refusing to pay’em—
There’s rules to this game, and he knew how to play’em
He rounded up lawyers, accountants, and more
Bankers and mobsters and goons by the score
He gathered together an anti-tax team,
A roomful of experts to plot and to scheme
(And to laugh about Pepe, the internet meme)
He thought, and he thought, and he puzzled some more,
For nearly a minute—till his thinker was sore!
Then gave up, had some supper, and watched some TV:
“Let’s see what the networks all say about me!”
But frankly, in truth, he was mostly ignored
So despite all his efforts, he quickly grew bored
But then! Why, the Drumpf got himself an idea!
A wonderful, horrible, awful idea!
“If I was the guy who’s in charge of it all
I could stop paying taxes and just have a ball!
I’d stand in the office; I’d stand there so tall,
And no one dare say that my hands are too small!”
So he gathered his lawyers and mobsters and goons
(And his son looked through reddit for racist cartoons)
Threw a dart at the board and chose Mexico first
And announced “they’re all rapists! The worst of the worst!”
Each bigot, each racist, each MRA hack,
Heard the Drumpf, and decided “here’s one we can back!—
He’s speaking our language; he’s singing our song!
He’s the one we’ve been waiting to find for so long!”
So with fifteen opponents dividing the vote
(And, in truth, none among them a name of much note)
Drumpf “won”!—well, that is, he achieved a plurality
With a base that was happy with alt-right morality
The Drumpf had a problem he had to address
His base—his support—was a hot racist mess
His message was narrow; it failed to excite
If the audience listening was … other-than-white.
His numbers were diving—not quite as he’d hoped,
When the networks found stories of women he’d groped.
“These stories are fiction! These women are liars!”
The Drumpf wasted efforts at putting out fires—
He needed a target that he could attack
So every reporter’s a “media hack”;
The networks are evil; the papers are bad;
The bloggers are useless; the stories are sad
It all makes the Drumpf and his people so mad
That they long for a past that we’ve never quite had;
They rant and they rave and they scream and they shout
With no contemplation, or moment of doubt;
They’ve far, far surpassed simply “throw the bums out”
But it looks like they’re likely to lose in a rout.
And you. You, there, reading this verse; I mean you!
Please let me entreat for a moment or two:
The Drumpf has his motives; he has his demands;
His legion of minions who heed his commands;
His billions (or millions, or thousands—who knows?)
Of dollars to spend so his legacy grows.
And we—who are we?—why, we’re no one of note
We don’t own casinos; we don’t own a boat
No billionaire father to keep us afloat…
But each of us, each of us… each has a vote.
See also #TrumpDrSeuss
Also, cuttlecap tip to @dd9000 via twitter