Big Man On Hippocampus

I drink a lot of beer. I like beer. Beer is what I like to drink.
But never once have brewskis compromised the way I act or think.
Now today I sit here, asked to justify some high school frolic:
There’s no way my lifestyle then could be considered alcoholic.

Allegations made against me all are false; that’s what I’m claiming.
Democrats, some left-wing groups, and – natch – the Clintons I am blaming.
To lay this all to rest for good: investigation’s worth pursuing.
(Unless of course you mean the FBI, since they know what they’re doing.)

Did I watch the testimony given here by my accuser?
No, I didn’t; saw no need, since I deny I’m her abuser.
I will watch it later in a more relaxing atmosphere.
Quietly, where I can pay attention – while I drink more beer.

Democrats claim what I say is fabricated and conniving.
I won’t cop to anything at all, except: I love imbibing.
Dr. Ford said caffeine helped her focus and maintain some leverage;
Glad that works for her. Myself – I much prefer an adult beverage.

My friend with a drinking problem wrote a book – a work of fiction.
If you mention it, you’re making fun of some guy with addictions.
A roman à clef, it’s said one character was based on my life.
Not remotely true: that guy drank Bud, and I drink Miller High Life.

Yes, I went to parties: we drank beer, and danced, and played Parcheesi.
Never did I drink ‘til I blacked out, forgetting something sleazy.
Let’s look at my calendar from ’82 – all documented.
I list every single time I chugged down beverages fermented.

During my remarks, there’s several times when I became unhinged.
One of them when Klobuchar opined my drinking might be “binge.”
Sure, sometimes I vomited – but that’s due to my weak intestine.
No way I had anything to do with that night now in question.

I was out of town for every summer weekend… so I’m thinking
There’s no way that I was at a party filled with sex and drinking.
Certainly what happened to Ms. Ford made for a very bleak day.
No way that I could have been involved – unless it was a weekday.

Trying to save my chance at the Supreme Court, I did something drastic:
Let my freak flag fly with no restraint and went full-on bombastic.
As the next day’s sun arose, it seems I made the proper choice –
Rants and raves and indignation overwhelmed a victim’s voice.

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