Confessions of Zero

Last week reader Martin Vaala forwarded the poem below to us. At the time I thought it might be too harsh, and it may be, but it might also be just about right. It captures something about the frivolous quality of the dilettante who is our president, or so it seems to me at the moment. You be the judge:

Blood on my hands
From Africa to Washington to Oklahoma
If I had a son
He would look like Chelsea Manning
He’s almost as prissy
Not much less the fool



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