(A noxious tribute to the Mango Menace and his gassy gang)
Donald is a Duck and a Trump is a Fart,
How do you fix what should never start?
He waddled through lies in a golf cart parade,
Where empty chairs cheered and facts were afraid.
The Fanta Führer, orange and loud,
Babbled like rainclouds yelling at clouds.
Commander in Queef, spraying ego and spit,
While democracy slipped down a gold-plated pit.
Taco Don, munching through grievances old,
Wrapped in a flag and dipped in fool’s gold.
The Tangerine Turd, tried to rule by tweet,
But logic and grammar both chose to retreat.
From Donny Two Dolls to DJ Chump,
He danced on the truth with a Mussolini hump.
The Flunky Bunch, so arse licking and loyal,
Turned the White House lawn into autocratic soil.
Sphincter Face, snarling, red in the jowls,
Still hears applause in imaginary prowls.
Kim Jong Loon the Taco, dictator cosplay,
With Putin and Xi smirking miles away.
Musk the F-Elon, Trump the Felon,
Two gas giants with nothing worth sellin’.
X and Truth, both twisted and frayed,
Their legacy? Lies in a bot-fuel parade.
Manchurian Cantaloupe, Kremlin-fed tweet,
Would sell out the West for a Big Mac and seat.
Coppertone Caligula, tantrum-prone,
With bronze skin peeled from a spray can alone.
Shitler, Adolf Orange, history’s itch,
With all the delusion and none of the pitch.
Agent Orange, poisoning discourse and debate,
Yearns to smash courts and rid the charade.
Cheeto in Chief, reality’s blight,
Turning facts into fear in the cold Foxlight.
Velveeta Voldemort, cheesed-off and grim,
Casting bad spells with words that really don’t swim.
Barron Von Grabbersnatch, crude to the core,
Grabbing headlines like he grabs the decor.
Donnie Gump, slow-footed and frail,
A Forrest with lawsuits hot on his tail.
Kim Jong Buffoon, chest puffed and sore,
Still feeling important while others laughed more.
He posed with his finger like some war-time sage,
But history booked him as sideshow, not stage.
Drowsie Donnie, asleep on parade,
As the tanks rolled past in a vacant charade.
The jester in chief, the courtroom nap champ,
While subpoenas and fines stack like gas at a camp.
Little Squeaky Tank Man, Churchill cosplay,
Grimacing hard but wilting away.
He mimicked the greats while history watched—
A poundshop Nero, bloated and botched.
So Musk and The Felon, the Fart and The Stink,
A bromance of chaos in digital ink.
They dreamed of empires, of rule by decree,
But ended as memes in democracy’s feed.
So flush what's untrue, let justice restart—
And mark this disgrace with an Ode to the Fart.
© Gary's Soapbox 20th June 2025
Gary's Soapbox Comment:
This piece isn’t just satire—it’s a civic fart in the face of authoritarian cosplay. Trump and Musk’s toxic bromance has polluted politics, discourse, and social media with hubris, hate, and hot air. If democracy matters, then we must keep mocking, fact-checking, and flushing. Never let a fart disguise itself as a founding father.
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