Merry Christmas from the Trumps (poem)

Yeats; Ashley Wells, Dhr. Seven, G.M. Guarnieri, Seth Auberon (eds.), Wisdom Quarterly

For some, there's nothing subtle about it.

Who really cares what senile Genocide Joe and Dr. Jill have to say? They lie, not as offensively but every bit as profusely as the Trumps, including Ivanka. At least when the Trumps lie, it's understandable. One knows why they're doing it. A dimwit in the White House is comforting, whereas a Rhodes Scholar should make us nervous (Bill Clint, JFK). Sure, Trump is horrible, of course. Now look at how much that horror keeps everyone engaged in politics and actually paying attention and sometimes protesting current events. We all said we wanted people to be more engaged in what's going on in the world and locally. "Act local, think global," remember? Well, we got our wish and did nothing but cry about it. We hope Donald John goes to prison. He deserves to. Who else deserves to? Hillary Clint and DNC lovelies like most of the Bidens, some of the Harrises (alright, just two, husband and wife), Pelosi, Sanders, Blinken...

Hey, Jimmy Dore, don't talk to Ribbet Ramasalami! I'm the one-and-only media Grinch!

• Excretion’s greetings: the pooping Christmas caganer figurines of Catalonia | World news | The Guardian
• Jews Ivanka and Jared Trump go to Israel to see kibbutz

We look nothing alike, you sonofa$#*&@!

It's a swamp. Trump didn't drain it. He brought in new kinds of predators. Who are we to get behind or vote for? Our erstwhile candidate Jill Stein? Dennis Kucinich? RFK? Cornel West is a sell out. There's no Bernie "Feel the Burn" S-lib to believe in. What we need is an Xmas miracle! Ramaswami? Ha. Someone like Tulsi but who's not in bed with the Israel lobby (AIPAC-funded and utterly controlled by dual citizens). AOC? Ha ha. There's just nobody on the horizon. Where's the Antichrist? Shouldn't he be here by now? Born to a princely Saudi family with a dragon for a crest (like the British boys of Diana, such as the ginger, who actually fit all of the items on the list for a great Deceiver). Why does it have to be Liar v Liar again? No to dotard Biden, no to narcissist felon Trump. What about that Shaman Q guy? He shows promise and an interest in politics. And the son of that liberal minded Republican, Rand of Ron, he was supposed to amount to something. If Grinch gets in the White House again, will we become a police state, or will that herald Yeats' "Second Coming"?

The Second Coming

This dimwitted dotard is Genocidal Joe Biden. FOR SALE  (car not included).

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Tweedledum versus Tweedledee (again)

Turning and turning in the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;

Surely the Second Coming is at hand.

The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out

When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi

Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,

Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The Second C*ming?

Churning and churning is the widening liar

The wizards cannot hear the Wizarder;

Economy falls apart; the middle cannot hold;

Myriad anarchists are loosed upon the streets,

The blue-Dim tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The Crest lacks any court conviction, while the wurst

Are full of a fatty consistency.

Surely some elation is at hand;

Surely a Second C*ming is at hand.

A Second C*ming! Hard are those strokes out

When a vast image of a Brass Monkey

Troubles my sight: somewhere in the hands of this dessert

A shape with a feline body with the face of a man,

A gaze blank and as androgynous as the sun,

Is moving its American thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of MAGAotty dessert-less crows.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That the previous twenty minutes of stoned sleep

Were vexed to reawakening by a rocking rapier,

And what knuckle baby, thrusting breaking into sound at last,

Scrunches towards butter hand to be reborn?

There won't be anything to impeach him on the second time around either. - Mitch McC