He was the Mayor we all deserved. He was pro-marijuana, legalization of drugs and prostitution (it’s your body, and we can use the tax income on both businesses, right?). He wanted to house the homeless, use art work for traffic calming strategies, no more corporate welfare, more money for small businesses, and even have a max wage cap for CEO’s based on how much they paid their employees. It was a grand dream. And all but 92 of you fucked it up. So now all you get is this limerick by Jon Sewell, himself – which only 92 of you deserve.
There once was a race for Mayor
Big biz wanted a team player
So the bucks rolled in
All covered in sin
And made a big stink in the air
But from the right came a big grumble
They found a woman willing to rumble
She had outspoken thoughts
Linked to unproven plots
And the fearful Libs started to mumble
So a new slate emerged from the folks
Uninitiated in the dark money yokes
Dismissed as buffoons
Treated as cartoons
They were mostly just looking for work.
But a few with familial experience
Popped up their heads in the stinky scents
Looking for a way
To separately say
Hey look at me & my political indebtedness
The bogeyman and the heir apparent
Their fans united in showing us how errant
They used the term racist
Showed millions wasted
Like subordinates looking for parents
They had millions & millions misdirected
To the friends politically connected
But The king of the hill
Skips out on the bill
And leaves all of the citizens unprotected
But who were the folks from the new slate?
Trying to shine a light before it’s too late?
A shirtless man barely tanned
Who hd a harebrained plan
But whose intellectual estate was in probate
“Illegitimate!” “Offensive!” “Not funny!”
Said the crowds unfamiliar with dummies
The ironic gatekeepers
Slander new competers
Their uninformed thought breeding like bunnies
But there was a whisper circling underground
In the rabbit hole, there were new truths to be found
Who they thought the rube
Was really a ruse
Their furrowed brows were beating burrowed ground
But this old rabbit had a few tricks
Hit them with the carrot and show them the stick
In his policy prescription
And, oh my, a local literati that wasn’t too quick
Methinks that they were all too cranky
The morning the soundbite was clanking
Dismissal of the unknown
A protest overblown
NPR editing the words gave me a spanking!
They cried “you’ve made a mockery of it”
Not realizing their performance on the stage unfit
But precedent is there
For clearing the air
Even though in the end we’re all covered in CHIT.
They say the rabbit doesn’t ever win the race
Even tho he thinks he set a pretty good pace
Eggs on their face
Scrambled in place
Hate, fear, & misinformation to save the day?
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