Today ain’t your day.
You’re out of the White House!
You’re off and away!
You’re deposed in D.C.
Macy’s won’t sell your shoes.
And if you run for office
You’re on your own. And you know what you know.
And now you’ve got to figure out where to go.
You’ll return to Manhattan. It’s worse than you fear.
At each gala they’ll whisper, “Get the hell out of here.”
With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet,
You’ll fear spit in your food when you go out to eat.
And your alma mater
(The vaunted UPenn).
On their campus, they won’t want
Your face there again.
Out there things can happen
And frequently do
to people who’ve banked
As much bad karma as you.
To a cruel asshole using her kids for “Likes,”
While her daddy’s locking up little migrant tykes.
There’s no making up
For these things you helped do.
OH!
WHERE WILL YOU GO?
I'm sorry to say so
But, sadly, it’s true
That in state crimes
And local
Daddy can’t pardon you.
So New York state’s out
They don’t like the vulgarity.
Of a family that steals from
A kids’ cancer charity.
So how bout Old Europe?
Could you hang with Macron?
Nope! The leaders there think
You’re a dummy and con.
“But I stand up for women!”
You may insist
Several Chinese patents
Gripped tightly in-fist
If you look at approvals,
I’m sorry to say,
Feel that way.
Despite all your dithering
You were not able
To give more women
“A seat at the table”
In fact, women lost ground
Under your watch
Your “empowerment” efforts
And people your age?
Sorry princess, the truth
Is that 73 percent of us
Find you uncouth.
OH!
WHERE WILL YOU GO?
You can try South Dakota!
Far from your troubles legal!
(Unfortunately you might
Have to talk to poor people.)
And in the Midwest
They don’t care for whiners
Unless you like to spend time
Hanging out in sad diners.
(Plus, thanks in part to your husband, the dolt
In the Dakotas are lots of sick folk.)
Ah, skip the Dakotas! There’s a better place.
The West Coast! Where doctors can maintain your face.
Unfortunately, the coastals don’t take kindly to fascists.
Even the ones with beautiful long lashes.
You will sit in the place in Americans’ hearts,
Between “paper cuts” and “elevator farts.”
You will try to return
You will want to come back
But you’re an unqualified political hack
Who does interviews in a weird childish voice,
And has already said that she’s anti-choice.
We’re all fed up. We’re tired of you.
We want you to go, we can’t wait till you do.
We’d like you to leave on a bus or a plane
Or hop in the mail, or get on the train,
Or like the snowflake you are, fly off into snow
We do not care where, we just want you to go.
Oh, the places you won’t go!
Your career is done!
But congrats, First Daughter, you had a good run.
Maybe magic awaits you on QVC
(It’s amazing the crap they can sell on TV)
Because, daughter of losery loser who lost,
I'm afraid that sometimes
Bad deeds come with a cost.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not,
Alone will be something
you’ll be quite a lot.
So the Midwest is out
And the West Coast won’t take you,
But maybe there’s one place that will not forsake you.
Go to Florida! A place that is surely not sinking,
Your neighbor, Tom Brady, stands next door, unblinking.
An island of rich guys!
And their tacky wives!
An island of only
The most matter-ing lives!
No more pretending you care about others,
Finally, finally, you’ll have all your druthers,
You won’t have to pretend that you’re on vacation,
The next time your dad endorses Aryan Nation!
No more boos, no more jeers,
Or electoral defeats
You’re finally living
Among the elites!
And back on the mainland,
Where things are not fine,
Your time in the White House will be a punchline.
And will you recede?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed.)
So...
be your name Mick, Hogan Gidley, or Conway,
Take a walk off a short pier; please take the long way.
You’re out of the White House!
Today is your day!
We don’t care where you go-
Just… get on your way!
