There once was a man named Miles Taylor,
Who wrote of Trump’s behavior, quite a sailor.
He penned a piece so bold,
About staffers in the fold,
Their “concerns” he did not tailor.
There once was a progressive on top,
Supporting a socialist non-stop,
For mayor they’d root,
In a progressive pursuit,
Their campaign received quite a big pop.
There once was a man named Enten
Who was shocked by the numbers when
They showed the bill’s unpopularity
In a rare form of clarity
He expressed his surprise now and then.
There once was a man named Vance Boelter
Whose darkness began to swelter
He struggled to find work
And his mind went berserk
Now he’s known as a Minnesota shooter
There once was a reporter so bold,
Whose “world-class haters” post he told,
About the president and Miller,
He denied it was just a filler,
No “drunk tweet” – the story he sold.
A journalist in LA, oh the stress,
It’s a dangerous profession, they confess,
Press Club and Status Coup,
Voice their plight, so true,
In the city of angels, a mess.
There once was a man named Dave Smith,
Who predicted the president’s myth,
Said he’d lose his coalition,
Over handling the issue with precision,
Now we’ll see if he was a myth.
There once was a man named Manner
Who said the president should plan her
To allow for the military
After birthday festivities
In a way that couldn’t be grander.
There once were 17 experts, so keen
Dismissed from a panel, unseen
Their risk was put high
U.S. families cry
For illnesses preventable, mean
There once was a man named Lee,
Whose social media posts caused a spree,
Making light of attacks,
On lawmakers, it smacks,
Backlash he faced, for all to see.