The Mikepompeo peeked over the endless rows of corn, in the heart of Kansas-of-Dorothy. At last. He’d maintained a low profile and managed to get out of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, putting plenty of swamp miles behind him.
He cursed his bad luck. The Rickwilson was right, everything the T-Rump touches dies. The Mikepompeo may well be dino enemy number one. Why hadn’t he stayed with the Langleyops dinos? Life was so much easier then. There it was his job to do shady dealings under the cover of night. Now he was exposed, out here in the daylight. He couldn’t cope. And the T-Rump brought out the worst in him. In everybody. Like a plague of angry, infested locusts that only knew one thing. How to lie. Lying was good. Lying saved your bacon. Lying kept you in the T-Rump’s good graces. Anything to continue the cover-up. The cover-up was all that mattered. He paused. How many cover-ups were they involved in? Too many. He’d cover up all right. Cover himself up with these husks and stalks of corn so no one would ever find him again. Ah, blessed quiet.
“Found you!”
Huh? Who was that? He opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of …
“The Mincepencenow? What are you doing here?”
“The same thing as you. Hiding.”
“Well, You can go find your own spot. This is my corn hole, dammit. Wait a minute, you’re alone. Did you run away from …”
“Mother?” The Mincepencenow hung his head. “Well, yes. At least for a little while.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, with this whole kerfuffle over the Iranosaurus thing, who knew what and when, the justification for killing the Soleimani …”
“Stop it, you’re driving me mad having to relive it again and again. Look around, I’m trying to get away from it.”
“Me too, but here’s the crazy thing, as to why I’m here. You see, there’s this song that I can’t get out of my head. Mother used to sing it to me … when I was younger.”
“You mean last week.”
“Okay, you got me. And well, it’s strange but the words have changed in my head to something new and it’s driving me batty. Like some stupid strawberry alarm clock.”
“You are nuts. What the hell is a strawberry alarm clock?
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. But the song, it goes, it goes …”
“You really don’t have to do this, Mike …”
“Oh, but I do. You know what they say. Misery is being away from mother. Move on over. Ahem.”
The corn stalks wavered, whisked and bent in the breeze as the Mencepencenow let loose the voices in his head.
Poor sense, negligence, government blind
Briefings, messaging they can’t define
Embassies, number please, make up your mind
Intent and imminence, the color of crime
Who dares T-Rump to choose?
Little to win, but your job to lose
Intent and imminence, send in the clowns
Next day, next week, next time T-Rump’s down
Look at yourself, crook on the shelf, Pompeo
Look at yourself, crook on the shelf, Pompeo
Completely contradictory, they all knew
Benghazi, Soleimani, embarrassment due
Past event or Prince lament, wrong point of view
Movements and all proof sent, nothin’ was new
Who dares T-Rump to choose?
You have to sin, with your soul to lose
Poor sense, negligence, government blind
Briefings, messaging they can’t define
Embassies, number please, make up your mind
Intent and imminence, the color of crime
Who dares T-Rump to choose?
Once you’re in, you can only lose
Intent, imminence
Intent, imminence
I-oh-w-a-a-a, I-oh-w-a-a-a
I-oh-w-a-a-a, I-oh-w-a-a-a
I-oh-w-a-a-a, I-oh-w-a-a-a
………………………………
You can hear the musical version of today’s post and previous T-Rump Digs at my podcast site at Podbean. Two new T-Rump tracks every Saturday. Enjoy!
David Belisle 