Curse of a Betrayed Fan

"Damn! Damn! Damn your black souls down to HELL!
You spoiled 'kneelers' of the NFL.
Beware! O beware!
I'm sendin' ya there!
Soon as I light this damn flag—oh well."

Here's the full video, in case you're interested in unintentional self-parody:

Please note: I don't know this person. I don't know anything about her. I don't enjoy making fun of her. I'd much rather take the piss out of a monstrous, attention-seeking public figure, but when you upload a ridiculous video to the internet, you open yourself up to ridicule. I'd like to hope she regrets making this video. She should certainly regret posting it, although judging from a Facebook post boasting about how many views it's gotten, she doesn't seem to regret it. She doesn't offer much in the way of argument or thoughtfulness in the video, but she seems sharp enough to have absorbed Donald Trump's First Rule of Social Media Dominance: it doesn't matter if seventy-five percent of the people sharing your content are mocking you; you still get big numbers. I don't want to say she is racist, or Racist-racist, because I don't know enough about her, and reducing her to racist status gives her an opportunity to deflect legitimate criticism by saying no, she's not racist, and how dare someone say that about her! While I don't see how anyone could separate racism from the nationalist fervor that some NFL fans have been displaying since Trump declared war on black athletes in order to distract us from more important matters, I want to acknowledge that "racist" is the term used by the person who uploaded the video, which was originally posted on Facebook, to YouTube. The first time I watched this video, I laughed, I thought it was better satire than anyone at Funny or Die or Saturday Night Live could have created, but more than anything the video makes me feel sad. Maybe I feel bad about making fun of her, but not bad enough not to do it. She deserves it. Fortunately for her, we live in a country, a culture, in which millions of people will watch her halfassed rant against the Steelers and her Chaplinesque fumbling with the team flag, which appears to be impervious to fire, and only three or four people will read any of this.


©Alan Good 2017

Trump's DACA Strategy

There once was a merkin-haired cocka
lorum who rescinded DACA
to force the hands
of congressmans
who couldn't co-work to kill ACA*.

*The point being, how are Congressional Republicans who, with full control of the legislature and a Republican of sorts in the White House, failed to pass legislation to get rid of their least favorite thing, the Affordable Care Act, going to work together to pass DACA-like legislation to protect the thousands of young people who risked their futures by putting their faith in the government and coming forward to register for the program? These people, brought to the U.S. when they were very young, raised in the U.S., could be deported if Congress doesn't pass legislation. The GOP couldn't work together to get rid of the thing they hate the most, but they can use that same strategy to get rid of the thing they hate second-most, immigrants. There's no way the right-wingers will be unified on protecting young immigrants, so the only way this succeeds is if there are enough Republicans willing to work with Democrats. 

Note on pronunciation: nobody says "ah-kuh"—they say "the ay-see-ay"—but ah-kuh is the only way it works so go with it.

The Proof is in the Pardon*

Rightwingers have all got a hardon
for Donald J. Trump to soon pardon
ex-sheriff Joe
Go prove just how racist you are, Don.

*Trump is who he is, whatever the term is for a racist who doesn't think he's racist or want to be seen as racist, even if he doesn't pardon Joe Arpaio, but that's too much to squeeze into a title.

Historical note: maybe ten hours after this poem was published, as the gulf states were bracing for Hurricane Harvey, Trump went ahead and pardoned Arpaio.

August 11, 2017: Ugh.

There once was a hack named Hannity
who offset having just an itty
gross fetid dingus
by stoking right wingus
to believe in his hoax-filled insanity.

In Which I Don't Go for the Obvious Rhyme; I Could Have Called This One "I Hate Huckabees" but I Don't Hate Them, Not Hate-Hate

There once was an Arkansan bassist,
whose com'dy was frankly the basest.
He gave up his faith
t'give his child a plathe
working for the Great Orange Racist.