is she perhaps Trump’s mother?
Both from the same mold
can be sung to the tune of a traditional Scottish folk song about restoring a king during Jacobean times.
Con Donnie lies over the ocean
He lies wherever he goes
He lies about his friendships
With people that we call our foes
(Chorus repeats after each verse.)
Don’t lie oh don’t lie, Con Donnie don’t lie to me, to me
Don’t lie oh don’t lie, Con Donnie don’t lie to me.
His Pinocchio nose gets longer
Each time that he starts to speak
His lips, when he tells a new whopper
Take on the shape of a beak
He eats cans of worms for his breakfast
He gobbles down bowls of untruth
He shuns accountability
He’s done it since he was a youth.
His lies are all propaganda
His base sucks-up it all
Mostly he lies about building
A thing that he calls a wall
He told us that Mexico would pay for
construction down on the line
He’s Feeding his vanity and ego
With dough that was once yours and mine
It lies each time that he opens
The hole in his face that’s a mouth
Claims he’s making America great again
When in fact it’s all going south
He lies when he speaks without knowing
That what he just said is untrue
His fantasy thoughts are his reality
Which he fishes from out of the blue
Short on facts has become his trademark
Alternative ones are his choice
And all of those who surround him
Repeat his lies with one voice.
The con claims the art of the deal
But that’s a myth to make him sound tough
His art is to play the big bully
But to leave when the going gets rough
What a con, what a con is our Donnie
Snake oil is what he likes to sell
Mendacious claims come daily
The only words that he can tell
He lies about the lies that he’s uttered
Says things like “I never said that”
Seems he pulls most of his lies
From out of his MAGA red hat.
He cheats when he out on the golf course
Claims championships that he’s won
Truth is he was out there playing
All alone by himself in the sun
He claims he’s a vibrant young man
But he’s unable to see the jokes
Everyone knows that he’s a dotard*
As usual he claims it’s a hoax.
Bill Barr is his new legal beagle
who pooped on the Rose Garden lawn
Covering up misdeeds and wrongdoings
The AG is Con Donnie’s pawn
2020 elections are coming
Will it be a happy farewell?
Will it be lights-out for con Donnie?
And our country saved by the bell.
* Dotard: The Urban Dictionary defines dotard as follows:
A cross species between an Orangutan and an Oompa Loompa. The Dotard is usually bred in captivity by wealthy families that wish to pass on their inheritance without having to raise an actual human. There are many similarities to a human, but you can usually tell the difference by their unique orange skin and hair.
On October 5th of 2018, a friend of 43 years passed away. He died of a heart attack. He was 81 years old and as I like to say, he had a good “at bat”. Harland “Lanny” Ross was in his retirement years an artist. He referred to himself as a swab and glob abstract painter. His work, quite extraordinary.
As a former executive with Norwest Orient Airlines, he travelled millions of miles around the world. However, most of his travel was in Asia and the South Pacific. During the Vietnam War, he managed the military contract flights moving troops in to and out of Ton Sun Hut air force base in Saigon, (now Ho Chi Minh City). At the end of the war he established a tour wholesale company offering tours to Southeast Asia and the South Pacific.
The theme for his abstract art was portraying pictures of Asia on canvas. These images in his mind’s eyes covered the gambit from Fijian beaches, Tahitian moonsets to the Malaysian jungle, Indonesian volcanoes, Rainy days in Tokyo, vineyards in Australia and his passion, China.
Lanny was a talented person. You can see some of his work here at his former website. He billed himself as The Man of Colours http://www.themanofcolours.com
In spite of his talent as an artist he bemoaned his lack of financial success, eking out a living on his somewhat meagre Social Security income and occasional sale of a painting. Which brings me to the real point of this post.
This is my first post in almost a month and a departure from my usual stuff: Haikus, stories in rhyme and Don the Con satire. Lanny was an ardent anti-Trumpian. He realized what a con job Trump had pulled on the American people. He was so anti-Trump that he wrote daily to a large list of email followers with updates on the latest lie, dirty deed, illegal, abuse of power, insult, manifestation of misogynistic narcissistic behavior that Trump had displayed. When all was said and done, I think the stress Lanny endured because of Trump is what led to his heart attack.
I have refrained from writing for a while because I too have been stressed by the disgraceful excuse for a president of the United States that we have.
Yesterday marked the beginning of his end. Madam Speaker of the House of Representatives stood up and showed us and the world how to dispose of a tyrannical toddler prone to temper tantrums in order to get his way.. Thank you Nancy Pelosi.
STORIES IN RHYME No. 32
Humpty Trumpty where have you been
Off to London to visit the Queen
Humpty Trumpty what did you do there
I hope that they were things that you can share
I know you’ll say her Highness was fab
But I hope you refrained from trying to grab
At one part of royalty you’ll never see
Swampking Donald’s the best you’ll ever be.
And if we look at more of your trips
We learned that in Melbourne you made a terrible slip
You talked about Sweden and their event seen on FOX
Events that were history you got from the box
Is it true you watch TV six hours a day?
That’s more than kids with their parents away!
The DEMs and now some of the GOP
Are beginning to ask “When will we see”?
A glimmer of truth come from you and your gang
Something that doesn’t land with a clang
The nation is weary of alternative facts
Your fabric of truth has too many cracks.
You’re making it up as you go along
Your fine-tuned machine is singing your song
The chorus however is allowing some leaks
Stuff you try to cover with tweets.
A month has gone by and your house is a mess
Even your guests feel under stress
At a recent luncheon with a New Jersey oaf
You ordered for him your tasty meat-loaf
You reveal yourself as one who controls
Not good in the long run for you in the polls
It’s a trait shown by demagogues of yore
It’ll see you dismissed to your Florida shore
The nation doesn’t need a pandering goof
Not someone who’s a few tiles short of a roof
We need a leader both honest and true
Who comes from a state which is both strong and blue
Note: This was written before Trump made his on again/off again visit to the UK. Then I mislaid the USB drive I saved it on. Today – found!
It’s Mueller time – now let’s all have a beer.
For those who have the ears to hear
let them draw nigh, the truth is here
After months spent on investigations
Soon we’ll be seeing prosecutions
What will come, subpoenas or indictments at best?
Our justice system will be put to a test.
Flynn has fallen, admitting to guilt
The blind lady’s scales beginning to tilt.
Poor Trumpty thought Sessions would have his back
But recusal unfortunately opened a crack.
The crack has now become a large chasm
Trumpty’s allies and base are starting to spasm
Paul Manafort set for eighty years
Has decided at last to see his way clear
To have A come to Jesus talk with Bob Mueller
Where he can paint a picture that’s fuller.
Trumpty must realize the noose is tightening
The prospect for him must be very frightening.
His pal Giuliani has lost the plot
Has a very strange view of what justice is not
Done nothing wrong, there was no collusion
Fake news is making the awful intrusion
Huckabee sanders has a version of truth.
But Kelly Ann Conway’s goes through the roof.
Papadopoulos also sentenced to prison
Shedding light through the Trumpian prism
Some coffee boy he turned out to be!
For Trumpty’s woes he was the key.
Who’s next on Mueller’s slow ticking clock
Will Ivanka and Jared’s names be on the block?
If their names appear to be next
We can be sure Orangeman is going to be vexed.
He’ll fly off the handle like a witch in heat
Then his thumbs will bash out some very odd tweets.
Both inane and angry and we will all laugh
More than we did when we first saw his quaff.
The world will not rest till we’re done with his brood
Enough of a family that’s greedy and crude.
“No Tickee no Washee” was the laundryman’s cry
But not for his tenants who had Rubles to buy
Expensive condos in Trump Tower pristine
Just bring me your money and I’ll wash it all clean.
Just follow the money is the chant we now hear
It’s Mueller time now – let’s all have a beer!
Is that the Boogey Man I hear?
Donald Trump’s goose is cooked
Yes, he’s aquiver.
Bob Mueller and his expert team
Are about to send him up the river; *
Not the same river of which he may have sold us down.
Swampland’s incompetent, bigoted racist clown!
Chances are, he’s in Putin’s pocket,
A mental nut in a Soviet socket.
He must be compromised, that, we surmise;
Russian floozies no surprise.
At 71, a braggard supreme
Living the Viagra dream.
Golden showers bring new delights
Peeing through those Moscow nights.
And what of Cohen the man who fixes
Paying off Trumpy’s sexual tricksies.
Adult film stars and Playboy bunnies
How many more are there of those bedded honeys?
To whom he paid campaign cash
Will emerge from out of the Phoenix ash.
Let’s see 35 indictments filed in all
The Donald’s headed for his fall.
What do we hear now of late
that will seal the orange Donald’s fate?
Just Giuliani chanting no collusion
A PR ploy to cause confusion
A bumbling has been, who’s lost his clout
Has no clue what this is about.
Truth is not truth according to him
Make up your facts just on a whim.
Orange man’s aides are starting to turn
Waiting to see; will the Donald burn?
There’s a new book with the title “Fear”
Not at all want the Donald wanted to hear!
Crazy town White House, admin amok.
It seems the staff there do give a damn
By swiping documents to keep us all safe
A diligent few who have not lost their faith.
We are all counting the days to the mid-term elections
And countless Viagras for Donald’s erections.
Ha! What a sad state we find ourselves in.
Let’s all shout impeachment and cause a great din.
Let’s see (again) what will come to pass,
To the time we bid adieu to this horse’s ass.
*A reference to the Hudson River in New York state and the town of Ossining which is the site of Sing-Sing Correctional facility.