A Modern Major Twitterer

With Apologies to G & S

I am the very model of a modern major Twitterer.
I've several tons of grudges and no one could be bitterer.
I see everywhere conspiracies, historical, hysterical.
I announce them with misspellings and blame those on my clerical.
Okay, maybe not the trains, at least my scandals run on time:
Come five-thirty every weekday—but I haven't done a crime.
My cabinet just loves me, singing praises loud and glorious.
So forget that B.I.G., you see, I am the new Notorious.

My spacey doctor tells me that my vigor is the bigliest.
I love to chase the girls, most especially the giggliest.
Those pageant girls run fast but still that's leaving lots for me.
I know that even friends like Putin are burning, he's so hot for me.
I've got screw-pulls but not scruples, so I grab 'em by their pelvises.
I've a swagger to my hips, you'd swear that they were Elvis's.
I'm so devilishly handsome: I've a painting like that Dorian.
(And I stole some sports reports off that kid with the Delorean.)

I'm the greatest ever Christian by anyone's criterion.
Or else I've joined a cult: I've been told I'm Presbyterian.
I decided on this creed once I had my soul examined:
If Mammon is your God then you can serve God and Mammon.
The Middle East is easy, I banished all the growing fear
And brought about world peach by pressing on a glowing sphere.
But the always-lying press won't proclaim my deeds victorious.
So forget that B.I.G., you see, I am the new Notorious.

I was blinded by the czar and his pictorial pectoreals.
He helped me cheat on my exams at the college electoreals.
Did I say I brought world peach by pressing on a globe?
But Congress didn't care, they began a Russian probe.
I canned that giant Comey for continuing to fight me
And then I raised a bar and said: you must be this tall to indict me.
Sure, Congress wants its hearings but I'm hearing they're not serious.
They're all serving at my pleasure like I'm emperor Tiberius.

Still there are some of those out there who'd choose to lock me in a pillory.
Hey, losey-losers hear the news: the worstest crook is Hillary.
She exposed us to the terrors of open-server email crimes.
But her greatest of all threats was being-born-a-female crime.
The continent of Mexico is unlawfully so alien
They're unlicensed to be humans and illegally mammalian.
I'll deal with their escaping rapists by bargaining so skillfully
They'll pay me for a wall, both fully and so willfully.

I am the double-plus most genius ever, I read that in a story in
Breitbart (the brightest Simpson), the supremest of historians.
I guess I could try and spell-chek, but that style is not o' me.
They say my grammar would improve if I got a brainiotomy.
And so I soldier on, forever predisential.
My words might make no sense, but still they are e-ssen-tial.
I suppose I could try harder but that would be laborious.
So forget that B.I.G., you see, I am the new Notorious.

Presidential Press release promoting the possibility of lasting "peach."

A brief guide on some of the in-jokes for those who do not follow presidential minutiae.

"Lasting peach" and "predisential" are among the recent typos from the White House.
The character Biff from Back to the Future was based on the 80s Donald Trump.
James Comey, ex-director of the FBI is 6 foot 8.
In a meeting with Presbyterian clergy, Trump asked whether Presbyterian is Christian. 

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 Martin Hill Ortiz is the author of Never Kill A Friend, Ransom Note Press.

Never Kill A Friend, Ransom Note Press

Never Kill A Friend is available for purchase in hard cover format and as an ebook.
The story follows Shelley Krieg, an African-American detective for the Washington DC Metro PD as she tries to undo a wrong which sent an innocent teenager to prison.

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Kindle: Amazon US
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