Numb. 972 Truth Trumped

The truthiest facts is what Donald deals in.

Exacting fact is, in truth, his religion.

But sometimes a fact must be adjusted.

It could be busted. You cannot trust it.

And so to protect his Twitter minions,

Donald instead tweets his opinions,

what he thinks, what he feels … whatever he wishes,

praise for militias, his favorite dishes,

how FAKE NEWS treats him so vicious,

sneeringly claiming TrumpTruth is a lie

as if he were the kind of guy

who would cheat on a wife, welch on an agreement,

not pay a debt … as if he'd be vehement

defending racists, fascists, bigots, and traitors

while dragging us down some gold escalator.

Like he was some Queens Mafia Don

whose everyday shtick was The Art Of The Con.

Numb. 971 A Republican Covid Lament (a fireside musing from a country estate)

Will this election ever be over?

Will the campaign never end?

Bad enough we're stuck with Covid,

have nowhere to go, nowhere to spend.

Oh, I know, there are those sick and dying —

I expect poor Democrats.

If I said I cared I'd be lying.

Here by the fire, I've no time for that.

What I truly miss is the parties,

celebrating our wealth with champagne,

toasting our most cooperative Congress

and even Donald — though he is a pain.

NOT one of us, but the underclasses

fall for his trumpery, take his message to heart.

Thereby confirming they are thick as molasses

and, like their Donald, not over-smart.

I dearly yearn to return to normalcy,

to reset the century clocks

back to our great-grandparents' day

when wealthy White Protestants owned all the stocks

and simple workers, content with a pittance

for working twelve hours per day,

expired early (there being no pensions)

and never asked for a raise in their pay.

Their wives scrubbed our floors, their sons fought our wars,

their prettiest daughters we made into our whores 

in that best of all possible times.

A time of refinement when your enjoyment

meant doing whatever you wished all the time.

We cannot, I know, revive the past.

The best of times never do last.

Still, we hang on. We cope and we hope

that Donald prevails, though we know he's a dope.

Numb. 970 What If The Solution Is Not The Answer

Even IF — BIG IF — IF Donald loses,

BIGGER IF, IF he then leaves

that will not be the end of our problems,

it will not cure Covid disease.

It will not relieve the unease of supporters,

the majority become the minority:

good white Christian folk, 

thinking they get the joke

of his lampoonery, his clowning buffoonery:

celebrating Civil War traitors,

being pals with goon-like dictators,

flouting the law, his misbehavior,

packing the courts, playing at savior,

encouraging looney militia revolts

if he disagrees with election results.

Even IF on Election Day,

the people say, “Donald, just go away!”,

even IF Dems retake the Senate,

even IF Dems retain the House,

even IF Dems repack the Courts,

even IF Dems reverse DC rigor mortis,

even IF Donald peacefully leaves,

his millions of followers — armed to the teeth —

still will be here, giving us grief.

Things'll be better. Things'll be fine!

We may see a decreasing decline

in the world and in the nation …

what with the Covid depopulation.

We may see a dip in pollution.

We may forestall right wing revolution.

With Donald gone (shed crocodile tears)

the country could last several more years.

That's all we ask because as Keynes said,

“In the long run, we are all dead.”

Numb. 969 A Covided Possibility (both times as farce)

What if the president's “Covid” adventure 

is nothing more than an ruse,

a FALSE FLAG event staged to distract

from the fact of his failure to act?

What if “doctors” reporting his progress

are “crisis actors” pretending?

What if it's all just a charade

to provide his campaign a “happy ending”?

What if our thief of a farceur-in-chief

is flailing reaching for comic relief?

Strange how his “Covid” just now occurs

right when he needs it … as did his “bone spurs”.

Numb. 968 The GOP's Disparate Strategies (or The Grandiose Old Party's Plans)

If the WRONG peoples' votes get counted, then, in theory, we'd lose.

Forced to fall back on standby PLAN B, we'd need the Electoral College to chose

to keep Donald for four more years. (And him and us out of prison.)

It is a tragedy that in a democracy that citizens can make decisions.

If they vote their interests instead of ours,

then we, their betters, end up behind bars.

Our solution: lie and deceive. Make like the other side's worse.

Frighten the voters so they believe whatever you say, however perverse.

Strive to fulfill their inner need, say there be monsters under the bed.

(FOX NEWS will confound and confuse and, in general, mess with their head.)

If PLAN B should fail, if we can't make bail, (so sad a tale), will we go to jail?

PLAN C (our Catholic Conservative Court) will be our fail-safe final resort.

If our pet Catholics dare to say, “NOPE!”,

we'll hold a hearing and impeach the pope.