“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means.” – Joan Didion
I follow bar rules for blogging – never discuss religion or politics. But the ongoing spectacle the media is selling as a presidential campaign is just too entertaining to resist. My wife and I follow the daily madness and wager what will make Weekend Update on Saturday Night Live. Many times we are right. And just as the circus roles into my hometown Philadelphia and I didn’t think it could get any better, the Republican front runners are urging John Kasich, the only sensible candidate in their party, to drop out.
When will people come to their senses?
Like the immortal Joan Didion put it, I need to write to know what I’m thinking, so I hammered out this poem to make sense of the 2016 presidential campaign.
Hash Browns on Super Bowl Sunday
The day I told her I love her more than Charlie Brown loved Lucy
Someone wearing a Donald Trump mask threatened to jump from the Statue of Liberty
Some things never change; Marcie still resented being named after her mother’s pet guinea pig
It was maddening to watch her pull the football away every time he was about to kick off
And the Democrats said he had a crack in his head the size of the Liberty Bell
Maybe she didn’t like pets
But as long as it made sense to him, that’s all that matters
Meanwhile Fred, Marcie’s husband of twenty-five years, reverted to the solace of hashish
While Charlie Brown made hash browns on Super Bowl Sunday
Which is essential when planning a long-term strategy, whether in love or politics
The vagrant in a John Adams wig sitting in Tun Tavern has nothing to do with this story
Though Maggie, Fred’s daughter, got pissed when her toddler found his hash pipe stuffed in the front seat of his Bonneville
Lucy finally figured it out on Champs-Elysees in Paris on their fortieth anniversary
And Marcie took a long toke and made salacious eyes at Fred
Fortunately, voters woke up on election day and realized there was no turning back