Who won this recent horror show
I truly wish I did not know
because I’m not permitted beer,**
and so, alas, I won’t be drowning woe
with alcohol. I’ll get no cheer
from rye or scotch, bourbon or clear
200 proof grain. I’ll have to make
due with no libation this election year.
I give myself a healthy shake
and ask if there is some mistake
that Trumpelstiltskin—what a creep—
has really won. Oh, how I ache
with sadness, sorrow, dark and deep;
for our bleak future I do weep,
and hope that soon eternally I’ll sleep,
and hope that soon eternally I’ll sleep.
by W.D.Ehrhart
*My apologies to Robert Frost for hijacking his poem “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” but I need it at the moment more than he does.
**I am a member of a 12-Step program that I’m not supposed to name publicly, but if you put on your thinking cap, I’ll bet you can guess which one it might be. This latest event is likely to test my resolve, but I never heard of a situation, no matter how bad, that alcohol couldn’t make worse.