Even Rod Serling Would Have Writer’s Block

During the campaign, in a black
neighborhood, in a church pastored
by a black, female pastor, the
candidate flinched and bowed in
blatant obsequience and snivelling
when the pastor’s booming voice
met his ears.

Today, the (p)-resident claimed
he bravely would have rushed into
the school, even unarmed, to prevent
the mass shooting.

The guy with the bone spurs to
get out of rushing into Viet Nam
to save his brothers in arms now
talks, talks, talks, brags, brags,
brags, blabs, blabs, blabs in
delusions of grandeur even though
he can’t stand the sight of blood
and turned away from a man in need
because he started to bleed and
was gushing blood, blood, blood
all over the beforehand beautiful
marble floor,

and for whatever crazy, incompre-
hensible reason, one-third of the
voting population, approximately
forty-million citizens of the USA,
continues to cheer him on and
yell the anachronistic even
if at the time nonsense
“Lock her up.”

Rod Serling couldn’t have thought
this up for The Twilight Zone.

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