Hey Nineteen …

“This is The Big One.”

The Tyrumposaurus stopped and stared at the Markmeadows.

“Yes, oh, yes, indeed. Very big,” the dino chief of staff feigned excitement.

Inside he groaned. Every day was the big one. Every moment was the big one. He prayed each night that T-Rump’s heart would suffer the big one.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Puhl-DePlugg Reservoir, 19 dino attorneys general were gathered as the Kenpaxton of Lone Star-Texas reassured them that they’d made the right choice in coming together to contest the elections in Georgia Orchard, Pennsylvaneus, Michigonia and Dairyland.

“Because that’s what good dino regions do,” the Kenpaxton went on. “They keep a close eye on other dinos’ votes because you can’t trust those Donkeykongrus dinos. Nope. It takes a Grandoldparty dino region to know what’s right, right?”

The other dinos nodded their heads robotically. It really didn’t matter what came out of the Kenpaxton’s mouth. They were all there because the T-Rump had a foot on their tail and a tweet on their future. They shuddered at the doom and gloom awaiting the other eight Grandoldparty attorneys general who were not in attendance. The T-Rump would hunt them down.

“Need I remind you, that the T-Rump was winning the vote in the middle of the night — while our dino mamas and babies slept! — and the Joebiden, well, at that point he had less than a one in quadrillion to the fourth power chance of winning. I got that little number from the Kayleighmcenany, who’s a pretty little number herself, she is.”

“So you see, my fellow dino attorneys, the battleground regions violated the rules set forth by their duly elected dinos-on-the-ledge-later, thereby violating our Continental Divide. The Divide, we’re talking about here. We gotta maintain the Divide. By ignoring both dino region and Milkanhoney Preservation rules, these regions have not only tainted, tarnished and vandalized the integrity of their own dinos vote, but of Lone Star-Texas, bless her broncosaurus-bustin’ heart, and every other region that held we-don’t-cheat elections. Their failure to abide by the rules casts a dark, dark shadow of death, I mean doubt, over the outcome of the entire kit-n-caboodle election. We now ask that the Dino Supreme Court step in to do something about this gargantuan, egregious error … that I’m holdin’ on by a thread here to keep from bawling my damn eyes out.”

The Markbrnovich, the dino AG from Zona Cactus yawned. He raised a short arm to make conversation.

“Yes, Mark. You were a little late getting to the party, weren’t you? 17 dinos here and then — poof! — you popped in.”

“I can leave.”

“No, no. Stop scaring me. We’re glad you came, aren’t we, dinos?”

A few perfunctory nods. The Markbrnovich continued.

“Uh, Ken, didn’t the Langleyops dinos raid your cave today? Again?”

“Oh, that. No worries, a little misunderstanding. I forgot to pay off a couple of dinos. Let’s focus on the situation at hand, shall we? You know, win The Big One?”

But even as a lapdog to the T-Rump, the Markbrnovich possessed a modicum of legal acumen.

“You’re doing this for the pardon, Ken, aren’t you? C’mon, admit it.”

Who me? The Kenpaxton didn’t say it. He didn’t have to. It was written all over his face. The 18 other dino attorneys general had seen that guilty look on the faces of thousands of dinos in their court caves. The expression on the Kenpaxton’s face quickly changed to a smirk.

“So sue me. I’m sorry. Did I say that?”

The dino laughter was interrupted by the arrival of the Johncornyn, the aging Lone Star-Texas Sin Hut dino. He spotted the much younger Kenpaxton and stepped before him as an elder might.

“Ken, you’ve got to stop this nonsense. You’re making me look bad.”

“John? How could you? In front of my attorney general partners in crime. I mean arms. You’re from Lone Star-Texas. Like me, remember?

The Johncornyn paused, measuring his words. 

“Ken, how do I say this? I – I … I’ve gotta sing. I mean, I can’t take any more of this crap. You’re a real nutjob, Ken. A crook, a low-life, a two-bit hood. There I said it. Anyway. I need this memorialized. So here goes …

Utah then


An’ Mississippi

Dakotas, why?

Chasing a felon

Paxton’s pack willing

Too blind to see braille

Are you freakin’ high?

Hey Nineteen

You have no chance together

No, you can’t stop or stall

Please just move along

The vote is in stone

Hey Nineteen

That’s you, Tennessee

Kansas, Nebraska


And Missouri

South Carolina

We think you’re crazy

You’re not just growing old

Hey Nineteen

West Virginia, you are bombin’

No, you can’t stop or stall

You got this all wrong

The vote is in stone


It’s no good


Hate a little lower now

The truth be told

It’s not The Big One

You are a king’s ding-a-lings

Say it again

The truth be told

It’s not The Big One

You are a king’s ding-a-lings

The truth be told

It’s not The Big One

You are a king’s ding-a-lings

You have no chance together

You guys have all the gall


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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