The Butcher of Queens
Anno Covidi I & II & Postscript
We're on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway.
Driving at a pretty good clip.
The Driver knows the destination.
He's told us where he was going all along.
We kept not listening well-enough
And we kept forgetting.
Maya Angelou got it right:
When someone tells you where they're driving?
Believe 'em the first time.
The Butcher is going to Tulsa
And Jacksonville and ...
And everywhere else COVID can go.
The Butcher's been driving, now.
Five years ... 24-7.
While we're driving on the BQE
People are dying in droves at St. Elizabeth's
And in the West
And the South
And everywhere else?
Drips and drabs, but goin' strong.
The Driver told us all along.
From the beginning.
He told us where he was headed.
Too bad: Hearing Aids aren't covered by Medicare.
The Driver told us
That giving people jobs
Was a sacrifice.
He told us, too, that
"Soldiers who get captured?
He said it:
"I am America.
America is First.
I never get captured."
We're driving on the BQE.
The Blaupunkt brings us Jared's voice.
"Nothing is yours anymore.
Nothing is the People's
Get your own ventilators!
These are ours, not yours anymore."
We're on the BQE and
We pretend to be surprised.
When the Butcher of Queens is driving
And Aunt Sadie is dead in a freezer truck.
While we're being driven on his BQ Expressway.
We're sittin' in the back seat
Together but alone …
While Jared is singing on the radio
And the Bible thumpers are calling him God.
And the Black Men are dead in the Street.
And the Stock Market is Drunk.
And the Butcher walks about with No Mask.
Oh, my ...
The pace is picking up, now.
Heading down the East Coast.
Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland
The Carolinas, Georgia and the Sunshine State.
The Butcher is still driving.
Says he may not give up the wheel.
No one else is licensed to drive.
We're coronating Alabama, now,
He promises to drive close to the Wall.
Tach touches 9,000.
Passengers scared but the Butcher is yelling:
"The Wall is beautiful ..,
Realmente bastante hermosa."
"We won't hit Louisiana, again.
Got'em good the first time.
We're headin' straight for Texas and Arizona.
Never been a more beautiful wall!
Truth is ...
Nobody coulda kept the Butcher in Queens.
Well, maybe Turtle McCurdle?
But most of us know:
His toast is buttered on both sides.
Just bathed in Lard and Pork Grease!
And the Butcher drives on.
"The Northwest already got fried.
They want masks?
I'm sending masked troops up there.
Tonto and my Loan arrangers.
Wilbur, Barr and Minuchin.
They got it covered.
That'll keep'em busy.
California, here I come!"
And still, I can hear
The Bible thumpers calling him God.
Still, you can see
The Black Men dead in the Street ...
You can still smell the Pepper Gas
And the sweat of the troops from nowhere.
And in the Bars
And on the Beaches?
The Butcher's Elves dance about with No Mask
To the rhythms of Evagrius Ponticus' Seven Deadly Sins
Of Pride, Greed, Wrath, and Envy,
Of Lust, Guttony and Sloth
And the Butcher of Queens?
He remains at large.
Stop the presses.
The Butcher of Queens
Has that lost-looking gleam
Of a little rich kid
Who would be both King and Queen.
Alas, he has come to rest
At Walter Reed.
No more rallies for now.
No more debates
No more meetings with the Fake Press.
Has the Butcher
Met his match? No less!
The Proud Boys gather and proclaim:
"Long Live the Butcher!
Long Live the Butcher of Queens."
How we miss the halcyon days
Being driven in his back seat.
Our heads snapping back
As the Butcher regaled us
With the loveliest of truths
And with Daytona Beach speed
24/7 ... Butcher, Butcher, Butcher!
Best Economy Ever!
None of the Good die young.
And Grandma's had a long enough life!
The word goes out among the Brotherhood
Christie is down and KellyAnn, too.
The Mrs is sick
But she'll be better and soon.
"Lewandowski? I don't need him no more."
And he entertains them with a tune:
"I'm flush with hydroxychloriquin
And I've flushed with Chlorox, too.
I shoot it up
Right outa the Box.
Remdesivir is mine
And my docs say I'll be fine
Stay Cool, my Friends
And bring AR's to the polls."
Meanwhile and still
Back at the Oval
Little Mikey Pence
Is on the Fence.
"Do I dare take my shot
And get rid of that bloviating Bot.
The Amendment, the 25th
will guide me though the darkness.
Mother will let me seize the Presidency
If I'm a good boy and say please.
But we, the passengers
Minus the 210,000 we've dropped from the trunk
What do we Evangelists do?
Without you, Oh, Great Butcher?
Who will lock her up?
Who will grab pussy? If not you?
Who will lie to us so beautifully?
Who will tell us what is real?
Or whether it's OK to feel
for those who might replace us?
What if the new guy
Decides to choose the Jews?
How will we ever know what's True?
Who, I ask: Who?
Will tell us to "stand back and stand by?
Who but you?"
The elections now over
And most of the lawyers are still.
Rudie, Rudie, come blow your horn
The Butcher's in the basement
Hunkered in the Bunker! Feeling forlorn.
What could be next?
What could possibly be next?
The Butcher's License has been suspended.
His rights to the driver's seat upended
But he drives with a fleet of armored cars.
And Moscow Mitch says "He has a right to drive."
Sancho Panza leaves town.
"I don't want to be around
When all this shit goes down."
Not Little Mikey Pence.
He's got more sense
Low-Barr has his sights on competitors
And Deutche Bank and the other Creditors
Are selling his debt
And our secrets to the highest foreign bidders.
A quarter million are dead
And the Butcher says his driving
Has never been better.
Pompeo says "the dictatorship is firm
And we'll eventually learn
That it really is
Better to be a little Red than Dead."
And the Butcher of Queens just drives
His putter through the heart of America.
"Let's drive over the DNI
Get rid of all them spies
And the head of the FBI, too.
Screaming Kimberly of Guilfoyle
Black-eyed tits will get my crowds to boil
Like Jeremiah's seething pot.
Let's see who can't drive now?
My Boy Barr will get that Nigger Bitch
And the Old Guy whose son made'em rich
And me? I'll never die!
Now that my Network's going ...
Trump: Eye on I."
Ten Years Later
"Teacher, Teacher ... tell me, please
What happened to the Butcher?
Did he move to Leningrad
To ride horses with Ras-Putin?
Did COVID end with a whimper?
Did Mother forgive little Mikey
For meeting onstage with Kamala?
Did Moscow Mitch come out
And get hitched to Lindsey?
Did we solve the Social Security Crisis
By killing off all those grumpy old folks?
Did the Butcher Bomb, Bomb Iran
Before he ran off: Mikey and Spray Tan?
I'd ask grandpa ... but you know.
He moved away and Mommy doesn't
Have his address."
"Johnny, Oh, Johnny, we must move along
And I'll teach you to sing one more song
Before we return to the Three R's
That's where our studies belong.
This is how it goes:
"Where have all the flowers gone
Long time passing.
Long time ago.
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them
And the children learned all the verses.
It was too painful for Mrs. Geiger
To tell her third grade class
About the 2.5 million of the herd who died.
Too hard to tell them
That the end was but a splash
And a whimper:
The Butcher's armored car
Ran out of its last vapors of gas
Right on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway
Where it all began.
It rolled into the River
Where it lies
On the Bottom