Good job, MAGA: No electoral blunder surpasses the 2024 cataclysm, brimstone fallout everywhere
If all the world’s a revealing stage,
What’s its moral and mental age?
Trumpster toddlers at best act five,
Disgorging tantrums, shuck and jive.
That perfectly fits the cult’s top faker,
The world’s disruptive, non-deal-maker.
Imploding Trump stumbles deaf and blind,
A jackass who “thinks” with his behind.
Trumpty-dumpty topples off walls
In spasms, scoring fabled falls;
Outrage snowballs like an avalanche,
And yet MAGA still bets the ranch.
How can this half-wit truly guide us?
Beyond menace, here’s Anti-Midas
Who makes not gold but disaster,
Ruining all the world even faster.
Apt voter punishments fit the crime,
Defying each dumb pantomime;
Enabled by cult complicity,
What isn’t higgledy piggledy?
When, pray tell, comes the knockout punch,
Who and what gobbles Donald’s lunch?
Come what, come may, let sleazebags boast:
No miracle looms—this mob is toast.
Fiascos deplete the Loser-in-chief,
With whims thinner than tacky gold leaf.
Beware MAGA’s blatant three card monte,
Bold as brass schemers caught in flagrante.
Delusions of grandeur burst overseas,
Assaulting civilians as they please;
Rogues jeer at laws with impunity,
But comeuppance plans its own jubilee.
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