A poem received from an unnamed source with an illustration from the NY Times.
America’s top shitholer goes
whole hog at the public trough,
and never mind the rest of us,
because that is the hog’s nature.
A silly grin when he licks his lips,
a scowl like a lout’s mustache—
the toadstool dick, the hellish
grunts, the squeals, the bogus
outrage of the ring, all are brazen
matches for his silly pompadour.
We crowned him circus king,
our technicolor conman—woeful
but willing, we shamed ourselves
by enabling such a shameless thing.