The MAGA Trolls Who Came Out to Cry
A crude little rhyme for the keyboard warriors, Kool-Aid chuggers, and basement patriots currently rage-sobbing in my Facebook comments.
There’s something magical about MAGA trolls.
Not good magical. Not Disney magical. More like “gas station bathroom after chili dog night” magical.
They show up on my page, furious that I made fun of their orange felony piñata, and then proceed to prove the joke was too generous.
So I wrote them a little bedtime rhyme.
Not for children.
For grown adults who still think Facebook memes count as research.
The MAGA Trolls Who Came Out to Cry
I do not like them in my thread,
I do not like what’s in their head.
I do not like their meme-fed stew,
Their “research” from a Facebook dude.
They stomp and snort, they grunt and scroll,
Each one a basement-dwelling troll.
With Cheeto dust and rage-filled thumbs,
They type like raccoons chewing drums.
They scream, “You’re woke!” They shriek, “You’re mad!”
Then post a flag they bought from Vlad.
They chug the Kool-Aid, burp, and grin,
Then blame the libs for their double chin.
They worship Felon 47,
Like he’s been hand-sent down from heaven.
A spray-tanned grifter, loud and wide,
With hamberder grease and crimes inside.
“HE TELLS THE TRUTH!” the goblins shout,
While facts come in and brain cells out.
They dodge each charge, they duck each lie,
Then ask why eggs and gas are high.
They cry, “Fake news!” They cry, “Deep State!”
They learned two words and think they’re great.
Their whole worldview, their sacred scroll,
Is bumper stickers and leaded coal.
They hate the rich, yet lick their shoes,
They vote for billionaires, then lose.
“Someday they’ll make me wealthy too!”
Sure, champ — right after pigs learn kung fu.
They yell about the border wall,
Then can’t spell “border” much at all.
They fear a book, a mask, a pronoun,
But trust a con man melting down.
They call us sheep, then march in line,
Behind a tangerine Frankenstein.
They baa for boots upon their neck,
Then call submission “self-respect.”
So troll away, you rage-filled clowns,
With confed flags and Velcro crowns.
Bring every meme your uncle made,
And every drop of cult Kool-Aid.
My page is here. The door’s unlocked.
Come get roasted, mocked, and crocked.
Because every time you post and squeal,
You prove the satire’s fucking real.
And that’s really the whole tragedy, isn’t it?
They show up to defend a billionaire con man who wouldn’t piss on them if their trailer was on fire, then call everyone else brainwashed.
They scream about freedom while begging Felon 47 to rule them like a spray-tanned mall dictator with a cholesterol problem.
They yell “do your own research,” then post a meme made by a divorced guy named Darryl who thinks clouds are government Wi-Fi.
So to every MAGA troll currently hate-reading this with one eye twitching and a Mountain Dew in hand:
Thank you.
You are not just the audience.
You are the material.
And buddy, the material is ripe.
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