Numb. 962 VP Reconsidered

Regardless of what my staff agrees to when I debate with a "chick",

she has to shut up so I can speak 25/8, three-sixty-six.

Whether it was my (un)worthy opponent (who clearly knew not her place)

or the fervently femme moderator refusing me enough time and space

for my ad infinitum praise of my masters, Donald (and also Jesus),

not to mention those plexiglass panels placed in my face in case someone sneezes,

in retrospect, I was not my best and it may not have been wise

to reprise the lies that Donald tells because his lies draw dung-loving flies.

Memo to self: for political health, avoid women and "debate" with yourself.

Numb. 961 Breathless For Thought (a meditation on a White House balcony)

Reality is really a virus.

To which, in fact, I'm immune.

I find reality and morals and truth,

not worth my time … inopportune.

Leaders, like gods, are creators.

We say what's real and what's not.

We're not concerned with figures and facts,

how the world works and whatnot.

That stuff is for jerks who insist on consistency

and think of things as connected,

who can not conceive that borax and Clorox

will disappear problems if they're injected.

Covid. Congress. Contracts. Laws. Wives. 

Anything that's in the way …

you have to downplay them. You have to lie.

You just have to wish them away.

You boast. You smirk. You deny. You distract.

You never look back. You attack and attack.

That, in totality, is my morality.

And, like I said, I'm immune to reality.

Numb. 960 The Picture Of Health

Donald must always be Donald.

Although we may all have to die,

we have to let Donald be Donald.

To say otherwise is to lie.

He is a law unto himself.

Taxes can never impact his wealth.

Despite what you see, he's the picture of health.

The thought of disease makes him so ill at ease

that in his vicinity you're forbidden to sneeze.

It is his will to never be ill,

so he finds doctors to act as his shill.

Except long ago, when one time it was

convenient for him to "contract" bone spurs.

Numb. 959 Sermonette

Go ahead. Name a CHRISTIAN with Covid. 

You can't. Want to know why?

God makes diseases for Liberals and foreigners.

God wants them all to die.

We know our Savior works in strange ways,

that, in his wisdom, he loves "mayonnaise"

that he hates -- equally -- Liberals and gays,

that Mantle was far better than Mays,

that, for Trump, Covid's a minor malaise,

that, though there may remain some delays,

that we'll be in heaven come THE holidays,

because we are living THE END OF DAYS.

So don't waste your time online on ebay.

Numb. 958 Perspective (or Have A Nice Day)

What good is a weather forecast when DOOM looms at the door?

Why would you bother with an umbrella if you're not coming home any more?

Why be concerned with what's going on in and about the Pentagon

when dead ahead you see coming on a without the bomb Alas, Babylon?

Celebrate Covid's inevitable spread. Think Monty Python's "Bring Out Your Dead".

With so much dread filling your head it just might be best to stay in bed

or, if so inclined, pursue absolution through religious circumlocution

unless you accept there is no solution and can embrace the world's dissolution.

Will this, too, pass? 

You bet your ass. 

What's next in store? 

Best not to ask.