Dear Mr. President,
Please do not listen to those who urge you to stop tweeting.
“It’s not presidential!” They cry. “You are terrible at leading.”
In your daily rants they see the dignity of the office receding,
As you talk of Mika’s facelift, and how badly she is bleeding.
But, Mr. President, they just don’t see how your are succeeding!
You speak truth in 280 character bursts.
About how you’ve never seen a thin person drink Diet Coke,
And how Kristen Stewart is the worst.
Perhaps they are right,
You could tone it down.
And not mention LaVar Ball,
Or how Chuck Schumer is a clown.
But then again, where would be the fun in that?
I cannot tell you how hard I laughed when you called Little Rocket Man “Short and Fat”.
After all, what is the Oval Office if not a place for comedic relief?
Must we truly revere the Commander in Chief?
Sure, there might be a disparity,
Between the dignity of the office,
And your thumb-powered hilarity,
But words are just words.
We have endured far worse.
And with Kim Kardashian, we are cursed.
At least you didn’t die with your mistress, like FDR,
Or have “sexual relations” with your secretary, uncovered by Ken Starr.
Though your tweets may be rude, lewd, and crude,
I imagine you enjoy how often they are viewed.
Like reality TV, soda, or porn,
We might be better off without it, but the truth is we are torn.
Unable to avert our eyes from the continual disaster,
While things behind the scenes move faster and faster.
So, I say, why not enjoy the show?
And not get caught up in the feeling,
that things are ready to blow.
I’ll admit, Mr. President, if you were to stop tweeting,
There is only one word to describe how I’d be feeling,