Ballrooms and Democracy

This piece began as an analysis of the facts and timeline surrounding the demolition of the East Wing of the White House and subsequent proposals to replace it. Despite a dramatic narrative and an ever-growing pile of grandiose claims, the account struggled to adequately capture the absurdity. This limerick emerged from the dust…

Ballrooms and Democracy

There once was a man from New York,
Of the proud and bombastic sort,
He dreamed of the chance
To host a big dance,
But alas, needed space to hold court.

Noble home with patina — too old,
Craving space for their eyes to behold,
Desire to impress,
One famous address,
Instant upgrade with trinkets of gold.

Now laden with procedure and rules,
Feeble limits on trusty old tools —
Donning a crown,
Just knock it down —
It’s my house. What could they do?

A grand ballroom, because he resents
Lesser parties in little white tents.
Why do they hate me?
It’s basically free —
Just a billion, not worth the lament.

As legal efforts threaten the cause
And suggest an embarrassing pause:
Reposition the brief,
Then suspend disbelief —
Feign national security flaws.

Some call it productive distraction
To curtail more sinister actions —
The damage is done;
Let him have his fun
While serfs support impotent factions.

But for a strained nation, defend
The ideals on which we portend —
Facing two more long years,
Constitutional fears,
Till one narcissist shitshow may end.