The President looks into the eye of the storm, and what does he see?

Hitting Home Where It Hurts.

Don watched unhappily as Irma ripped through the Caribbean,
It was enough to whiten the face of the most bronzed Floridian,
In Maryland, monitoring Fox’s monitors his eyes grew ever bigger;
Camp David’s quite close enough to the action for this leading figure.

Donald certainly didn’t mind Cuba taking a hit,
Commies getting blasted worry him not one whit,
But when he sees the Land of the Free is in Irma’s path
Far too much prime Florida Real Estate is in line for a bath.

Now the size of the approaching apocalypse is finally grasped
He kneels, and together two tiny trembling hands are clasped,
A thought for the poor, the homeless, all those lost and scared,
And he prays, like a man possessed… that Mar-a-Lago be spared.

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