Everybody’s Talking About the ‘I’ Word

Elvert Barnes / Flickr

By Ernie McCray

Hey, y’all, have you heard?
Everybody’s talking ‘bout the “I” word.
“Impeachment,” in other words:
throwing The Donald to the curb;
finally fed up
with him on our last nerve
like a cowboy riding a wild bronco
wrangled from the herd;
realizing it is
extraordinarily absurd
continuing to let this “I” word
be deferred and deterred and misheard and/or
unheard and slurred and unstirred,
considering that we have a leader
who is emotionally disturbed,
who, on his own,
has made himself the last word
when it comes to
lacking political decorum…

Calling himself a leader
sans the slightest clue
on what one, who leads,
is or ain’t supposed to do –
forever having us wonder
with each rising sun
what craziness he’ll unleash
on the world before the day is done.
Then we brace ourselves for all
the lies that will roll off his tongue:
Here a lie, there a lie,
everywhere a lie-lie –
lies multiplying like flies;
little white lies;
broken promises lies;
intricately fabricated lies;
big ass bold-faced lies;
exaggerated lies;
highly deceptive lies;
compulsive lies…

He’s got us going coo-coo,
drinking more brews than we used to,
talking in tongues in Hindu,
not knowing our asses from an emu
or a jockstrap from a tutu
or aunt Sue from Runaround Sue
or the walking pneumonia from the boogie-woogie flu,
or a freeway from an avenue –
frantically trying to figure out what to do
to bring this male
cock-a-doodle-doo shrew
to a screeching halt
before he doth screw
all the good our society
has managed to accrue
over a century or two.

Whew!
The impeachment conversation is way overdue.
But it has finally arrived,
like back in ‘75
when Tricky Dick Nixon
had to face up to all his jive,
contriving lies
to misguide
those who were analyzing
his role in burglarizing
the DNC in Washington D.C.
But he resigned
under all the heat that was
put on his sorry behind.
And he served no time.
Then along came Bill Clinton,
sporting horny inclinations
that entangled him in an “I” word situation,
asking “Is oral sex really sex?”
and the prosecutors and the whole nation
said, in effect:
“Look, Jack, if semen
departs your body
like a rocket
heading to lunar terrain
and some of it ends up
as Exhibit A on a dress
as a stain –
you have had sex, my man!
But Slick Willie escaped time on the chain gang.

And now it’s Donald J.
And all kinds of issues of treason
or bribery could be reasons
to sit him down in impeachment proceedings
from all that we’ve seen.
But my pick is:
“obstruction of justice”
to the highest degree
as the prez treats justice
like it’s his archenemy
continuously, relentlessly, habitually,
ritually, conspicuously, unambiguously –
like we can’t tell the difference
between bullshit and reality,
between transparency and chicanery;
like we can’t cut through all his incessant fibbing
and innuendos and gross distractions
and see him fire the top FBI man in the land
who was looking into his shenanigans
and wouldn’t pledge his loyalty to him
and wouldn’t heed a beck and call
to back off investigating his friend,
Michael Flynn.

There’s got to be a case
for impeachment somewhere therein
and, perhaps,
a cot for Mr. “Make America Great Again”
in an isolated cell in a federal pen
or a nice cozy room in a looney bin.

Hope for such lies in
our having begun in the best way to begin,
starting a conversation wherein
Everybody’s talking about the “I” word!

Word!