Fixing a Hole …

The pain. Oh, the pain. The Tyrumposaurus had a splitting, smack-between-the-eyes, double-migraine headache that had him seeing stars, stripes and the red glare of ex-PLO-sion … after … ex-PLO-sion. That damn Joebiden. A pox on the Donkeykongrus. And all his namby-pamby Grandoldparty dinos, afraid to call out the widespread fraud that had stolen the election from him. He was loath to admit they had cheated better than him. They would pay. They would all pay for this gross negligence of … of … fair play? He struggled with the phrase, even the concept, because it was a rather moot point with him.

In between the grimacing mental blasts of red glare, he took stock of the several milestones he’d accomplished thus far in his scorched earth policy. Because if he wasn’t happy, there would be no good cheer in Dino Nation. Not a hint of a smile. 

“Make them wait for the Covid relief package,” said a wee voice in the back of his head before being shot down by another red glare zinger. 

Benefits had already lapsed for millions of idle dinos. Check. If he didn’t sign, the dino government would soon shut down. The focus was squarely on him. Where it should be. The Davidperdue and the Kellyloeffler were in very awkward spots in the Georgia Orchard Sin Hut run-off next week. They needed him badly. Check. Pardons galore to his cronies to show the Muellersavus who was boss even if the Williambarr had recently exited stage left mumbling some face-saving fake news rhetoric.

But the T-Rump’s dino accomplices were abandoning him as he had 24 days left to rule. He made a mental note to remind a staffer, if any should be brave enough to come out from hiding, to research and triple-check all available avenues he could venture down to make life as miserable as possible for the everyday, garden-chewing-variety Donkeykongrus dino. Rumbling in his head aside, this was the perfect storm. Covid was doing it’s destructive job. He wasn’t doing his.

Yet he had made his point because it was his show. He’d pushed Dino Nation to the brink of mass riot. Alright already. The waiting game was over. He’d sign the bill. Not in weakness however. With strength. He’d sign it with lies. 

The sharp pangs of his headache finally began backing off, easing enough in their intensity to allow him to marshall more devilish thoughts. Within minutes he was back to normal, growling under his breath, ready to go on the attack. Headaches were the seed to his temper. What didn’t kill him made him yearn for more power, more destruction. To pass on said headache to others more deserving of it. This was the stage of negotiating — the art of the deal — to which he had lowered himself. Headaches all around. Migraine. Your-graine. 

He’d sign but with an attention-grabbing addendum. Tell them they will have to remove wasteful items from the bill. Make them add vaccine moolah-moolah and much, much more. That’s vague enough. Increase the payment to 2,000. And last but most importantly, make them focus strongly on the very substantial voter fraud which took place in the election. None of this would ever happen of course, but it showed his base exactly where he stood. Winning.

He smirked at his latest spin-to-win strategy and burst into song.

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

And stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

I’m killing the chance for those that need more

They can take up panhandling

Away they go

And it really doesn’t matter if

I’m wrong I’m right

I’ve just begun to fight

I’ve just begun

See my allies sitting there

They don’t like me, don’t want me in

And worry how I will settle the score

I’m hating the doom in a sorrowful way

And then my mouth is slandering

The bad words flow

And it really doesn’t matter if

I’m wrong I’m right

I’ve just begun to fight

I’ve just begun

Unemployed run aground

Military can never please me

Sign the stimulus, what for?

I’m marking the time for I can still pull strings

To make your cloud the darkest grey

And get your dough

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

Stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

How low I’ll go

I’m fixing a hole where the pain gets in

Stops my mouth from slandering

A friend or foe

How low I’ll go

……………………………

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!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s