The Grinch Who Stole The Election

Merry Christmas From Your Pals, The Worse-Than-Nothing Politicians

Every who down in Whoville liked freedom a lot
but The Donald, who lived in a White House, did not
How The Donald hated democracy, who knows the reason?
He sure gets defensive when some mention any treason
it could by the size of his penis--compensating?
But to investigate, whatever his reasons, he was waiting, 
maybe he wasn't done masturbating?
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
whatever his reasons, he wouldn't tell the truth at all
He stood there on T. V. and swore all was true,
and f*****g lied and lied to me and you
Behind lighted windows of every American town,
he knew lived some who saw him a clown
But some Whoers were in a Kool-Aid trance,
he snarled 'hang 'em by their nuts, and watch 'em dance!'
When he'd been in power coming up on a year,
when in doubt, he could always fall back on fear!
"I must stop the people from finding out,
to accomplish this goal, I'll sow mistrust and doubt'
For tomorrow, he worried, some might catch on
in which case his sorry a*s would be gone
And then! Oh, the noise, oh, the media noise, 
and then, he lost his s**t and his poise
Poise, poise, he needed to keep his cool,
and remember that for the most part, voters were fools
But if the Who's, young and old, ever stopped being zombies--
he couldn't have that, up s**t creek is where he'd be
For then they'd see him for what he was,
and then he'd lose control of everything they does
And then they might do something he'd hate most of all,
stop paying attention, and they'd learn that his dick was too small
They'd all band together, with the media singing,
They'd stand in disgust, and hurl insults, so stinging  
And they'd hurt, those abusive phrases
They'd vent their outrage, no longer sing his praises,
and he couldn't handle the hate they'd be venting,
his hair armor for sure they'd be denting
The Dumper thought, 'I must stop thing whole damn thing,
the investigation and all the embarrassment it'd bring." 
Then, he got an idea, such a vile, cruel plan
that just might save him, so he'd remain the President man
"I know just what to do!" The Donald laughed in his throat.
and he made a President Obama-look-alike mask, hat and coat
And he chuckled,'It just may work, may do just the trick
'With this mask and coat I don't look so much like a dick!'
The Donald knew he needed something more, so he looked around,
But, of common sense, there was none to be found.
Did that stop old Comrade--hell no!
'I'm so clever, it's on with the show!'
So, he called up his V. P. Pence, said, "I'm going on live, 
I'll just hand them some of my usual jive
I'll just flat out say I never said I grabbed snatch,
and yell 'fake news!, my fall-back catch 
phrase for anything I hate--that tells the truth,
'cause right now, I'm as popular as John Wilkes Booth
I'll use to advantage, my face everywhere,
I'll claim they're being mean, and so unfair'


******

"This had better work!" The Dickless Donald was pissed! 
Then he donned his Obama outfit, couldn't see anything he'd missed
Then, he signaled the cameraman that he was ready,
smiled for the camera, hoped his voice held steady
He got stuck only once, for a moment or two.
He hoped he could fool people, if he didn't he'd be screwed!
He knew there were Trumpers watching in bars,
at home, on the radio, and listening in cars
Looked straight into the camera with a s**t-eating grin,
said "I'm President Obama, and together we'll win!"
There, now everyone would have to believe,
some gullible voters were so damn easy to deceive!
He'd done it, he'd talked his way out of that rather nimbly,
'twas a good thing some viewed things rather dimly
Then he slunk off camera to once again shoot a few rounds
His angelic voice, God, how he loved that sound!
Maybe later, he would grab him some gash
He had the White House credit card--no reason for any cash
He thought back over his presser with glee,
"They'll buy it, after all, they're obsessed with me!"
'I'll just stick to my lies, insist they're true, and shove,
hard, they won't know if they're getting them from below or above!'
The next day he saw a short rotund Democrat,
"Hey, I'd watch who you're calling fat,"
he retorted to the Democrats' taunting words,
"Nobody calls me anything", and he flipped him the bird
The Donald had become enraged from the put-down jab,
delivered by the stick-and-move heckler--'bout his flab
It was like taking an ice-cold shower,
everything shrunk, even his incredible power!
Because he wasn't so smart or so quick,
he resorted to throwing a verbal brick
"F*** you!" the fake President went on,
The Democrat laughed, all respect was gone,
"Is that the best you can do, is that all you've got?
I think it's pathetic, but not so your Trumpbots" 

******

He thought he's said enough to make them quit,
but his denials only prompted more s**t
He became more and more pissed and out of control
He thought they were too stupid to find out he'd sold his soul
to Putin, now THERE was his idea of a real man's man,
This clever figuring out s**t was more than he could stand!
Nobody believed him, nobody was freaking when he yelled 'fire!'
Somehow, they had long ago figured out he was a liar
And so here he was, a complete fool in the White House,
a narcissistic, egotistical con man, they knew he was a louse
Of course, he failed to see himself that way,
didn't understand it was all the endless lies he'd say
No, there must be something, someone else to blame,
someone else to drag through the mud, their good name

******

That f*****g Obama--oh, how he hated that man!
Just why he was still so popular, he just couldn't understand
He'd done his best to erase anything with his name attached,
His level of frenzy was insane and unmatched,
but still the people admired him--'why not me?'
But he was incapable of understanding basic human dignity
He ranted, raved, and foamed at the mouth,
but still his poll numbers were headed south
He used to have dreams of his face carved on Rushmore,
that was until he slammed his nuts in the White House door
If he was capable of feeling anything but rage,
he'd understand the people felt the monster's out of his cage,
It started low, but cries for his impeachment started to grow,
until now it was not a dull roar, but shrieks, oh no!
Maybe it was past time for him to bail,
he'd tried to stamp his imprint, but had utterly failed,
even he could now see with his beady, piggy eyes,
that his destructive actions had been wrong and so unwise
So he'd give his buddy Vladimir a call, 
and beg sanctuary, help, and he guessed that was all
And so he'd leave this smoking crater of America behind,
the only thing he cared about was getting out of this bind
And so his disgraceful exit came to pass,
carved on Mt. Rushmore is a likeness of his a*s!