(with continuing apologies to Edgar Allan Poe and, I suppose, poetry lovers everywhere)
Previously
on “The
Craven”
(Nos. 257.1,
258, 260)
Once
upon a midnight tweeting. . .
“It's Robert Mueller!”
Then
through the door a horde did burst. . .
“Documents!” quoth I,
“Indeed!”. . .
My
lawyer told me, “Say no more,”. . .
Those
who know me live to serve me.
Today's episode:
“The time was nigh,” thought I, “
Go for broke!”,
popping the top of my Diet Coke®.
Upon the wall I saw a TIME® cover, the one where they call me “The Perfect Lover”.
My spirits raised, my mind unfazed, re-energized by Coke® and praise, I gazed upon,
Coke® in hand, my present favorite of the TRUMP brand, a ray of Hope who
is quick with fixes and never — EV-ER! — my notion nixes, Hope Hicks is
a woman, untutored in politics, who knows and shows old “pros” new tricks.
I stood transfixed.
“Hopefully,” began she, “we distribute dilution! Distracting remnants of thinking faction,
Getting facts shunned, gaining traction, calling our team into action, 'coz they can't get no satisfaction,
Thinking, now, inside the box, with FOX acting as our proxy, spewing out their toxic moxie,
Murdoch, Putin (sure as shootin') Mueller's so-called facts refutin', disputatious,
IN YOUR FACES!, White, alt-Right marching racists reproclaiming rightful places.
(I know they're baboon Looney Tunes. . .but. . .) Then, of course, there's Devin Nunes.”
I pondered future honeymoons.
[to be continued?]
