Ode to the Wall Street Protesters
By Penny Thawtz
Deep in the heart of Manhattan,
On the street the founders named Wall,
An army of losers has gathered,
Demanding our money for all.
“Look!” they cried as they marched,
“We haven’t worked for a dime,
But that doesn’t mean we’re not worth it,
Your productiveness is the real crime!”
“The rich are the problem,” they bellow,
“They hog it for all themselves.”
“Why should they keep their money,
When we could spend it so well?”
And so they marched through the streets,
Chanting and calling us names,
With calls for mayhem and violence,
They seemed to enjoy their memes.
Now, the Hollywood blowhards were worried,
They were comping the pizzas in droves,
“It’s not our obscene wealth which you protest,
But perhaps it should be Karl Rove’s.”
The fat one, the Yoko, and the beheader,
Encouraged and egged them on,
That was merely a diversionary tactic,
To keep them off THEIR own lawn.
And the one with the pendulous breastusus,
Claimed she only came to learn more.
So she mingled a short time with their leaders,
Then jetted off to Italy’s shore.
“The rich are the ones we are after, “
They reassured the celebrity libs,
“The millions you hoard don’t matter,
The capitalists, THEY are the PIGS!”
With I-pads and cell phones and bank cards,
Starbucks and Whole Foods, too,
They tweeted and blogged to the world,
The wonders they were going to do.
And so this nonsense they’ll continue,
All zombied and smelling quite ripe.
But they’re not quite sure how to end this,
Causing Mommy and Daddy to gripe.
The cost of your little excursion, they cry,
Is beginning to drain their cash.
They’ll have to sell off their Exxon,
Or swipe from your college stash.
Come home little darling, Mom texted,
For your plan has really not worked,
Wall Street’s still great and it’s thriving,
And to the world you’re still a BIG JERK.