I thought work couldn’t get any better, and though I rarely agree with the boss, this time I heartily do. Thanks Boss. Oh, and to Julia- thanks for nothing. (Part three of the Jilted Julia Saga.)

Exit Interview For Bossy Boots.

‘So, Julia you’ve been with us a year to the day,
Sadly the evidence says you’ve outstayed your stay,
So lets review your flaws before you go on your way
With our good wishes and an even greater redundancy pay’

‘Let us peruse the views of your ex-staff, if we may?
They can contain a clue- or two- to where you went astray,
One good point is they do say you’re real hard work and no play,
Negative traits… hmmm they do go on- and on and ON, don’t they?’

‘Complaints against you… hmm, laid in endless array,
Your words of complaint about them cause me a twinge of dismay…
No, don’t tell an employee to ‘fuck off,’ the Company prefer ‘go away,’
I agree with your staff, so no argument, Julia, just go away, without delay.
Or ‘fuck off’ as you say.’

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Don rallies support at Mississippi for Brett Kavanaugh, and attacks the lack of total recall of a woman assaulted years ago by him, allegedly. When it comes to justice, luckily we can rely on Don to judge. Don really hopes there won’t be many more taxing times like these.

Being Seen To Be Done.

At the rally Donald took the sword
To the testimony of Ms Blasey Ford,
How high Donald’s rhetoric soared-
From his lips the scorn petulantly poured.

See how his red-capped rabble rousers applaud
The irreverent words of the man adored,
The cheap shots and low blows Don scored-
Shouldn’t his deplorable words be deplored?

No, Don don’t believe some conniving broad-
Nor those mean #me too chicks who sew discord-
Don’s happy to let Brett take the Supreme award
And welcome another rich red-faced man aboard.

But there are some words Don’s pointedly ignored-
Loans Don got from Fred before he went to his final reward-
Up there, on high (or more likely, down with the Dark Lord,)
All FAKE NEWS, Don swears solemnly, a TOTAL fraud.

Another mad day at work. Sometimes and some days you wish you could be well shot of this sort of ….

Twenty-Four Hours, And Counting.

Three mass shootings in one day-
It’s just another day in the USA.

A mere five hospitalized in Syracuse?
That damp squib scarcely made the news.

Five injured in Middleton plus one dead perp-
Thank God he didn’t channel Wyatt Earp.

Four gone to glory in Maryland,
Unusually by a maids not-so-fair hand.

Yet another disgruntled employee with a gun
Hell-bent on making her last day a memorable one.

Living in the gun-tottin’ Land of the Free is GREAT;
The worry is surviving the workday without winding up late.

Three mass shootings in one day-
Sadly, just another day in the USA.

The day comes along for a maudlin thought or two. Such is life.

Long Slow Burn.

Spring brings thoughts of summer, tinged with regret,
For today is- was- the birthday of my brother Chet,
So I called in to work claiming, truthfully, an upset.

I drive the old roads we once biked way back when,
Them skies looked newer and bluer way back then
To two overgrown boys, so so far from being men.

I parked by the pool, old now, new then… to reminisce,
Of that hot endless summer, of the exquisite bliss
Of meeting Chets girlfriend’s sister, of a first kiss.

So we spent those days, young and tanned and strong
Not a care in the world the whole damn summer long;
Show me a healthy tan, and I’ll show you you’re wrong.

Hurricane Florence makes an unwelcome appearance. She’s big, bold, loud and depressingly nasty, and she don’t want to budge. And she’s slowly making advances.

Cold Clammy Hands.

The wind did howl
The hard rain did fall,
The weather, diabolically foul,
Over Carolina Florence did stall.

See the water rise?
It’s lapping at the door!
Perhaps it would be wise
To step up to the second floor?

See, the waters ankle deep-
Now it’s over knocking knees-
Now it’s creeping coldly up the thighs-
It’s enough to make one’s privates freeze.

When you’re feeling sad and low, go see the Doc, he might just cheer you up. Or not.

Severe To Mild.

I have my good days, I have my bad,
Sadly, what a depressing month I’ve had.

I’d not seen my Doc for a while-
Perhaps he had new meds on phial?

So the good Doctor changed my medication
And my mind went off on a three-week vacation.

I’m happy to know my moods have improved
But throughout the trial my mind felt… removed.

So I asked the Doc to halve the dose
Knowing it would leave us both morose.

It pains me, but being human means being able to feel
And a half-life spent numbly fogged up holds no appeal.

A book launch for Bob Woodward, the doyen of political writers, followed by a measured critique from Don and those- still- at the White House.

Fear And Loathing In Mar-a-Lago.

It’s been two years since the rise of President Trump,
Now he’s experiencing the ol’ half-way slump,
Now the (FAKE!) polls maliciously confirm
All ain’t rosy in the White House at mid-term.

Don was handed Bob Woodwards book,
He unwrapped it with hands that shook
With an endearingly childish sense of anticipation,
He then bent forward to read Bobs dedication…

Don read the fine print with twitching lip,
Words traced by the Presidents fingertip,
Soon he realised the hurtful things Bob said-
After sounding out the words in his head.

With the maturity for which Don is known
He reached for the comfort of his flipping phone,
And after a furious CAPITALISED tweet
Found Bobs home number and pressed ‘delete.’

Upon hearing Dons cry of wounded pride
Ivanka rushed in to the Presidents side,
Jarred stood by, a look of fear in his eye
As unPresidential curses and papers flew by.

Don railed at Bobs charges, completely unfounded,
In a frenzy Donalds desk was dementedly pounded-
We could’ve all been facing an incendiary September
Had the desk top launch code been easier to remember.

With half the White House staff facing eviction
Sarah Huckabee denounces Bobs book as fiction,
While Don goes through Bobs book page by page
Balling ’em in the waste basket, incandescent with rage.

All Don humbly asks of those who ‘advise’ him
Is for ’em to subserviently agree to his every whim,
Don does not take criticism (or Fear) well, I’m afraid-
It’s been his single failing since, oh, Fifth Grade.