The good, old, guilt-ridden,
shame-faced, white, Baptist
boys (Forgive me, Jesus; my
wife is in the bedroom.)
down South love the Donald
because he can get away
with what the boys can only
dream of but feel guilty
about and ashamed of as they
spend all that time online sur-
veying what the net is purvey-
ing – the sights of forbidden,
brown sugar and chocolate
mousse, carnal delight each
night. They stand with O’Reilly
for the same reason, for Bill
is a serial letch getting some-
thing the boys couldn’t catch
with an oversize mitt as they
switch from Fox to the foxes
and back again. (Forgive me,
Jesus. I just can’t help my-
self. I’ll be right there,
honey. This should only take
a minute. I’m not doin’ nothin’,
honey. Oh, nothin’, nothin’
at all. Lord, have mercy!)