Who is this Vic Tanny Bitch?

Who would pimp out his daughters

To the horny and strung-out skeeters,

Who would suck dry the Arctic 

Until it were as fiery orange 

As the great Holy planes of Arizona?

Who would tighten his hands 

Round the necks of his grandsons

To harden his prized fruit

And become great again?

Maurd Plondt flew a blimp

Through Appalachia

The tractor dittoed

That he should be punished by death

But he was relieved 

Of his duty to his country.

The flock granted that

Maurd Plondt lived.

And where he relieved himself

The glaze hardened over like a treat.

And his hysterical attempts

To saccharize his prize

Made the fat boy even fatter.

Today, a bead rolls down the Great American Mountain

Kazoo music tempts the neurotic button-busting babies from their

Kingdoms of demented hate, and the

Kremlin applauds His brother

For the Shitlicker is King again.

FOR THE IDIOT READER: Rearrange the letters.

Maurd Plondt

The tractor dittoed