The Vote
( Dr. Seuss style story about voting for Trump)

Stanley Stooliddle was very, very, middle class

His fine china consisted of two plates and a glass

His weight was in the middle

and his height was too

His chart was normal and he wore a size ten shoe


He had a moderate income, a moderate house
and some say a moderately attractive spouse


On this November day a couple years ago

Stanley put on his shoes and walked in the cold snow

With each middle class step he took, in his size ten shoe

he left a footprint documenting what he would do


Stanley came to the spot

At seventeenth and McBrine

Straightened his MAGA cap and voted for the first time


He tapped the computer screen, selected his choice

It seemed Donald J Trump would represent his voice. 

And as Stanley Stoodliddle left the voting booth

he knew Mister Donald J Trump stood for the truth.


And then he thought and he thought and he thought some more

then echoed his impure thoughts at the precinct door.

“Sure he’s womanized, fibbed, and never paid a bill

but Christians stand behind him shouting ‘it’s God’s will’ “


With those thoughts off his chest he was sure he was right

Stanley went back in the snow and into the night

He retraced his same footprints all the way home

He’s superstitious

Found out while looking at Chrome



Now it’s two thousand nineteen and Stanley’s not budged

Although the truths Trump does tell, might be slightly fudged


Trump’s walk with God is a spiritual journey

though his guidance comes from a personal attorney

When things get tough I’m certain he reads the Bible

Quotes two Corinthians and prays he’s not libel



But Donald J Trump does speak to the heart

of middle class folks, and those who are not

When I say those who are not, I’m not talking ‘bout the poor

It’s the billionaires who have no voice on the Senate floor. 


Just this morning Stanley did something out of whack.

Kissed his wife of ten years and went on the attack. 


He went on Fox news to praise the Commander-in-Chief. 

Who he knew watched the show for his daily debrief


As he sat in the green room Stanley saw a cross-stitch. 

The corporate motto in a font called snivvily-snitch. 

He read it aloud so he could slowly digest

and envelop the creed of the company crest.


“You’re not a sycophant ; you’re not being misled

 Every guest on Fox news bleeds Republican Red.” 


Stanley thought, we all bleed red but that’s not the point! 

This motto’s about understanding those we anoint.


Stanley Stooliddle straightened his over-sized tie

which had the word  Republican scrawled in tie-dye

He took a sip of cold water, combed back his hair 

Then he heard them say "3, 2, 1 you’re on the air"


Stanley said, "It’s a Witch Hunt"!  Then he sipped on some tea

"those advisors are rats who entered a guilty plea"

Then he faced the camera, his eyes big as a tin

said, “I hope your listening president Putin” 


It was a slip of the tongue, he meant to say Trump

Oh no! How do we fix this? His throat had a lump.

Even though he spoke from the heart and not from a text

His mind for a moment had been completely perplexed

Stanley’s final six words were taken out of context


The anchors caught in a storm like a boat with two sails.

Prayed to the gods and even the late Roger Ailes.


Wait!  Wait! Wait a minute! exclaimed a Fox news host

like our President we’ll change this to a boast.  

It was a moment of mistaken identity

And fibbing is the art of the great Sean Hannity


Without missing a beat Sean jumped to his feet

His feet were enormous which made him elite.

With a sweet smelling sound he said Stanley got confused

About two great leaders who are always in the news


It’s like confusing Da Vinci and Mozart

Or a Nazi and a white supremacist

Or Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato

A marionette and a marionettist


The damage was done and the tweets came in. 

The president was upset as he should have been. 

Sure, marionettist is a really big word

but the president’s been studying and he’s graded on a curve.



Completely dejected, Stanley went home and to bed

his moderately attractive wife came in and said,

“Remember,twenty-twenty is not just a year,

it can make your vision abundantly clear”


Stanley didn’t understand, her riddle didn’t make sense

He sat there, said nothing, doing his best Mike Pence.


But that night Stanley Snooliddle cross-stitched a creed

the font was snivvily-snitch; it was easy to read


Sure, Trump’s never shopped for food at a grocery store

Never used a coupon or heard “cleanup aisle four”

But he’s one of us, I am very proud to say

Unless you’re an immigrant, Mexican, or Gay



                                                                             By Paul Marks

                                                                             February 4, 2019