I won’t admit I lost, and yet I’m acting like I quit.
I spend my weekends golfing as the country goes to shit.
I said that Biden won, then said there’s nothing to concede.
My last few weeks in office will be dreadful – guaranteed.
I purged defense officials who worked at the Pentagon,
anticipating turnarounds in the percent upon
which those in charge will name the winner – who it’s clear I think I am.
Who runs the country in the meantime? I don’t give a damn.
I keep on tweeting fraudulent assertions, in all caps.
And as I do, I’m augmenting democracy’s collapse.
Biden can go fuck himself – I don’t care what his plans were;
I won’t lend my assistance to a peaceful power transfer.
There are those who say I need a little time to process;
come to grips so I can understand precisely what this loss says.
Two weeks later, after several rounds of self-reflection,
here is the conclusion I’ve reached: I WON THE ELECTION!
I’m prepared to hang tough, right until the bitter end.
Up until inauguration, I can still pretend
that I’m the leader of the free world – but between us, here’s the skinny:
my write-up in the history books will stink of ignominy.