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Trumperick du Jour

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05/16/19: I Was Just Singing This Under My Breath. Then One of the Interns Added Some Sick Beats and It Went Platinum.

May 16, 2019 iambanapestAmerica, awful, bullion, campaign, ditty, flaying, going my way, incrementalism, limerick, male-pattern darkness, mule skin, poem, poetry, sick beats, sick rhymes, song of the summer, starkness, TrumpLeave a comment

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05/06/19: “I Think the Only Difference Between Me and the Other Candidates Is That I’m More Honest and My Women Are More Beautiful” *

May 6, 2019 iambanapest2020, baby, campaign, Daddy, dead, death, eyes, fetching, grin, limerick, poem, poetry, satire, the loveliest skull, thin, Trump, voters, womenLeave a comment

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From Maureen Dowd’s NYT column, 11/17/99.

05/06/19: “I Think the Only Difference Between Me and the Other Candidates Is That I’m More Honest and My Women Are More Beautiful” *

03/22/19: It’s Not So Much a Jingle as It Is a Mob Chant, But It’s Mighty Catchy All the Same

March 22, 2019March 22, 2019 iambanapest2020, advertising, America, bumper sticker, campaign, chicken nuggets, coffin, fucking, jingle, limerick, luck and its shit-outerism, mob chant, poem, poetry, pressed shredded chicken and carnal knowledge, Trump, voter fraudLeave a comment

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