Lyin’ Ryan Says Goodbye

Paul Ryan likely in his youth
Intuited that speaking truth
To power helps one keep in touch
With truth, but power? Not so much.
Dispensing with integrity,
However, paid off handsomely:
He nearly got elected veep!
Not bad for a mendacious creep
Whose claim of thoughtful wonkiness is
Based on incoherent messes
Gussied up as policy
That promise broad prosperity
For anyone who isn’t needy.
Pity, Pauly met a greedy
Opportunist less concerned
With all the facts he’d never learned,
To whom the truth is such a stranger
Even Ryan saw the danger.
(Nothing makes a liar madder
Than a dude whose lies are badder,
Bigger, bolder, worse than his!)
Paul Ryan sees the way it is
In Donald Trump’s America
And suddenly he’s homesick? Duh!
He’s seen the writing on the wall
Writ large (although the hands were small)
And knows he simply can’t compete.
He’s giving up the Speaker’s seat
In Congress and returning to
The Land of Cheeseheads. Is it true
He won’t be running anymore?
Too bad. He’s never broken four!

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Californian In The White House

When critics carped that W.
Was worst, I’d ask them, “Surely, you
Recall the horrors Tricky Dick
Inflicted on us?” In the thick
Of Donald Trump’s dominion, though,
I can’t dispute we’ve reached a low
“Unpresidented” heretofore.
Congrats, DT: You broke the floor!
The depths you’ve plumbed make Nixon’s bummers
Almost quaint…and he had plumbers!
Nixon showed a sense of shame;
I doubt The Donald feels the same.
Chagrin afflicts the self-aware.
For Trump, there’s simply no “there” there,
Like California, per Ms. Stein.
Your views may vary; this one’s mine.

Cleaning House (And Senate)

Creeps in Congress? Not surprising.
Dems seem worse at compromising
Values, though, for politics.
They try, but when dishonor sticks
They show capacity for shame
Which ultimately cramps their game.
It’s tough to win when you’re in thrall
To conscience while your not-at-all-
Equivalently-shackled foes
Say anything unproven goes.
(And when that last’s unqualified
We’ll know democracy has died.)

What They Say

Well-meaning friends say it will be okay:
“It’s tough, we know. We’ve lost these votes ourselves.
Two thousand eight’s was rough enough,”
they say,
“But that was silk compared to twenty-twelve’s!
Turn off the cable news, and you’ll be fine.
You’ll realize the White House occupant
Will hardly touch your life. It didn’t mine!
Eight years will fly–you’ll wonder where they went!”

What they don’t get is, I’m not under threat.
I’m privileged by race, and gender, too;
Religion’s hidden (so far). Here’s a bet:
If you’re for Trump, I look a lot like you.
So, I’m not in the crosshairs–not today.
“Relax. This, too, shall pass.” That’s what they say.