Poor, Poor Pitiful Me …

The Tymelania looked scornfully down her long, scaly snout at her husband, the Tyrumposaurus.

“I cannot … I will not take this any more. I am tired of the way the other dinosaurs treat me. I say Be Best and they laugh. That is not Be Best. That is Be Wildly Wicked. Wildly wicked, I’m telling you.”

With her thick accent, her w’s sounded like throaty, drawn-out v’s. Wildly wicked sounded like ‘vildly vicked.’

“Vickie? Vicky who? I’m sorry, Tymelania. What were you saying?”

“T-Rump, you are not even listening to me! What is wrong with you?”

“Well, excuse me. There’s this little thing going on right now — an impeachment? Only the third time in history. That’s me, thank you very much. Could you maybe cut me some slack. Just a teensy little bit?”

She had to give him that. Still, the way he treated her. She felt like she’d been tossed out of the Oval Dwelling herself a long time ago. About two days after moving in. Think of Baron. Think of Baron. Her mind played over those three words, her soothing, daily mantra.

“What can I do for you? What is? I will listen. I will be best.”

“What is it? Are you blind?”

“I think you mean deaf.”

“I’m being impeached for crying out loud. And I didn’t even do anything wrong! It was the perfect conversation.”

“You mean like the one we’re having now? Okay. I listened to you. Now you will listen to me.”

God, he hated when she said it like that. Like he owed it to her. He didn’t owe her anything. He’d beat the damn pre-nup. No, he didn’t owe anybody anything. The authorities were idiots. They were all wrong.

“Okay, okay,” he said, in a fake attempt to calm things down. “You’re right. I should probably listen to you more. I just need you to listen to my new song first. Then I will give you some moolah-moolah and meet with you later.”

“This is me you’re talking to. Not the Zelensky! And I am not going to listen to your song. It only makes me angry. How can you sing when I’m so upset? Do you even see my frown?”

She turned in a huff and left.

“Fine!” He hollered after her. “I will sing it myself. And listen to it myself. I’m doing everything by myself. Because I am the stable genius. Remember?”

With that he was in the perfect mood. A melancholy state that lent itself to the low-key mental state required for his latest musical lamentation.

 

Well I need more lawyers to talk more smack 

Waitin’ on Giuliani

But Mitch don’t want Rudy here no more

Poor poor pitiful me

 

Poor poor pitiful me

Poor poor pitiful me

Why are they doin’ this to me?

They’re all dopes and babies!

Woe woe is me

 

Well, all my cronies, the swamp neighborhood

We’re all just playin’ games

Well, Pelosi worked me over good

Just like Letitia James

Yes, they said impeachment was for good

They are a disgrace to their gender

If I change one falsehood, Lord

My base will go on a bender

 

Poor poor pitiful me

Poor poor pitiful me

Levparnas won’t let me be

Get Williambarr for me

Woe woe is me

 

Well, I had a bad dream the other day

Caused me lots of trauma

McCain picked me up and threw me down

He said “You ain’t no Obama.”

 

Poor poor pitiful me

Poor poor pitiful me

Adamschiff won’t let me be

Dershowitz works for free

Woe woe is me

 

Poor poor poor me

Poor poor pitiful me

Poor poor poor me

Poor poor pitiful me

Poor poor poor me

Poor poor pitiful me

………………………………

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!

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