General Discussion

Last edited Sun Mar 15, 2026, 11:34 AM - Edit history (1)

There once was a Chief from D.C.,
In a war thick as bad LSD.
While the briefings screamed “FIRE!”
He said, “Gas up the flyer—
There’s a members-only tee time for me.”

The Situation Room buzzed like a hive,
With colonels on caffeine till five.
But the Boss hit the jet,
With a donor-list set,
To a club where the martinis survive.

The pundits were pale in the press,
Maps bleeding with arrows and stress.
But the Prez took a swing
At the whole bloody thing—
Said the greens in the south were “the best.”

In D.C. the alarms rang like sin,
War briefings stacked up to the chin.
Yet the motorcade roared,
To the runway it soared—
“Charge the members to watch me win.”

There once was a weekend escape,
While the nation chewed fear like a grape.
He’d shake hands with the rich,
On a sun-blasted pitch,
Where the cocktails come tall as the drapes.

So the war room kept grinding its gears,
Full of whispers and satellite fears.
But the Boss chased the sun,
With the paying-guest fun,
And a driver that rang in their ears.

https://buymeacoffee.com/gfarber