Humor Political Satire The T-Rump Dig

Everything You Touch …

Within his bloated stomach, his intestines growled angrily erupting with a long-drawn-out, guttural burp. The Tyrumposaurus had eaten a bad Cheezbuggabugga and been forced to make an emergency visit to his dino doc. Following a healthy sip of unhealthy swamp water, the T-Rump was recovering in the dino “Be Better Den”. He looked up, recognizing the other dino beside him.

“The Rickwilson? What are you doing in here?”

“Doc said I had an acute attack of Snarkiness. And I think I’m about to relapse.”

“No, why are you in here? I should have my own den. You know I don’t share anything.”

“Don’t worry, the doc said I wouldn’t be here long. Something about laughter, however sarcastic, still being good medicine. My therapy dino is arriving shortly.”

There was a tap-tap tail rap at the entrance and a handsome dino, the Stingosaurus entered the den.

“Here he is now. Sting!” the Rickwilson greeted him. “How’s our project coming?”

“Great. I was just putting the finishing touches on it.”

“What project is that?” asked the T-Rump.

The Stingosaurus looked at the Rickwilson.

“You didn’t tell him?”

“About what?” asked the T-Rump.

“We wrote a song for you,” said the Rickwilson.

“Isn’t that a coincidence?”

“You’re all I think about,” the Rickwilson said with a cheesy grin. 

“That’s great. Just great. I’ve been meaning to commission a song about me for a long time. Nobody would do it. I mean, I just never got around to it. I mean, look at all the great things I’ve done. So many great things. And how I’ve made the Milkanhoney Preservation a better place for every dino.”

“There are so many,” said the Stingosaurus.

“Well, what are you waiting for? I don’t have all day. Sing, dammit. Sing me my song.”


Everything you touch and every move as such

Every useless crutch, every tweet too much, all are dead from you

Every single day with every boast you bray

Every law you slay, every name betrayed, all are dead from you

Oh, can’t you be locked up, toss the key 

How this green earth quakes with every hand you shake

Every rep your snake, and every swamp your lake

Every day you wake, every oath you break, all are dead from you


Since day one you have been a huge disgrace

That ugly smirk crawls again right up your face 

As you pull the wool o’er your sheepish base 

I feel so bold, we have your impeachment case

I keep crying, “Maybe, maybe, please”

Oh, can’t you be locked up, toss the key

How this green earth quakes with every hand you shake

Every Sean Spicer and every McMaster

Every Bob Corker, every Kurt Volker, all are dead from you

Every smug Kushner, every T-Rump Jr., all are dead from you


All are dead from you

Every Chris Christie, every James Comey

Every John Kelly, every Rick Perry (all are dead from you)

Every Ryan Zinke, every Mulvaney

Every Sally Yates, every Ricky Gates (all are dead from you)

Every poor McCabe, every weak Ukraine 

Every sad Jeff Flake, every heaven’s sake (all are dead from you)

Every Reince Priebus, every James Maddis

Every Don McGahn, every Lindsey Graham (all are dead from you)

Every Gary Cohn, every Pompeo

Every Jeff Sessions, every Tillerson (all are dead from you)

Every Steve Bannon, every John Bolton

Every McFarland, every Jim Jordan (all are dead from you)

Every Mark Meadows, every Navarro

Every McCarthy, every McKinley