Desperate For Housewives

Why don’t you like me, Housewives of Suburbia?
I’ve offered quite a lot for you to chew upon.
Is something that I’ve said you find disturbing? A
reluctance on my part to censure QAnon?

Please credit me for saving your damn neighborhood;
I took low-income housing off the grid for you.
You don’t believe my actions serve the greater good?
My push for stimulus has hit the skids anew.

Perhaps it’s the example that I choose to set:
when things go wrong I never take the blame for it.
I’ve gambled with your lives (looks like I’ll lose that bet).
And as regards your health, I’m playing games with it.

I treat all those who challenge me with disrespect;
I mock and ridicule and mispronounce their names.
I seem to get my jollies off of this effect,
demeaning all of them without an ounce of shame.

The polls suggest Joe Biden’s gonna kick my ass,
and so I frantically retweet conspiracies,
and sink ever more deep into a thick morass,
and make claims noted for their incoherency.

Respond to my appeal, Suburban Lady Friends –
the loss of your support I truly am pained by.
As you drive around town in your Mercedes-Benz,
I hope you won’t run over all my campaign signs.

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