Trumpty Dumpty and his no good, very bad crackup

Here follows a nursery rhyme, of a kind, written for the adults at the White House day care center and for all those who feel trapped inside the topsy-turvy world of a Mad Hatter’s tea party. “Off the Wall” Trumpty Dumpty sat on a wall, a Capitol perch for dear leader’s caterwauls. Pandering to his base in terms vitriolic, Trumpty likes walls that divide and walls that bar entry, fancies taking us back to the turn of the last century. Our thin-skinned prexy whinges in tweets, fiddles with his Twitter as the planet heats. Flaunts ignorance as strength and riches as worth, befriends despots, disses friends and manhandles Mother Earth. But power and money tend not to hold sway when a special counsel named Mueller enters the fray. The ghostly specter of Rob Cohn, longtime RasPUTIN-onretainer,

whispers advisedly into Trumpty’s ear, “Stonewall, stonewall. Distract, distract.

Repeat ‘witch hunt, witch hunt’ and screw the truth with altfacts.

If all else fails, foment war and declare martial law. A simple no-brainer.” Trumpty frets, “That won’t work over time; just recall loony Adolf ’s and Tricky Dicky’s fall and decline. The unraveling of what did I know and when did I know it, I fear,

will prove my complicity in ‘artful’ duplicity for winning is ALL.” In due course, that wall of deceit buckled and cracked and Trumpty Dumpty took a great fall off that flimflammy wall. All his stable of lawyers, all his toadies and kin couldn’t save his own rotten selfie-self from downfall within.

Barbara Allen Kenney is a freelance writer who lives in Santa Fe.