The news is bad; a daily bummer
But just when you thought that you’ve never been glummer
A candidate rises who couldn’t be dumber:
His name’s not Joe; He’s not a plumber
He’s one of those guys; he’s one of those faces
That keep popping up in the strangest of places
Like campaign stops and congressional races
He’s ready to run; he’s knotting his laces
He’s qualified—he’s off his rocker—
His name is Sam “Joe” Wurzelbacher
Whom every pundit, fool, and mocker
Had written off (now that’s a shocker!)
In case you think it’s all just funny,
With friends like his, small things like “money”
Are drawn to him like flies to honey
So cheer up, bub! The skies are sunny!
The hero of the middle class,
A pompous, preening, boorish ass—
Rejoice, reporters! Know, alas,
The sad, sad truth: this too, shall pass.
One of the hallmarks of our country, supposedly, is that anyone can grow up to become President. The trick is to actually grow up.
Another feature is that everyone else is free to vote their conscience or to point and laugh as they will.
I suppose it’s only a matter of time before (not) Joe says that he heard a call; from above; in his head. Does he think he’s being original or does he, like all the right wing candidates, dearly love to beat a dead horse?
Lay on, McPlumber! And damned be he who first cries, “Hold! You can’t say that!”
A thought, though frequently observed,
That still can get me quite unnerved
Is that a people will be served
By just the leaders it’s deserved.
Yes, many others boo and hiss
At Uncle Sam: “He’s been remiss!”,
Yet while there’s plenty I could diss
It’s not enough to warrant this!
Oh, by the way, Cuttlefish: my congratulations and belated wishes for a Happy Blogiversary! I will avoid any risk of copyright infringement by not singing — instead, I will raise a glass of single malt in your general direction!