Electing Oprah is the talk of the town,
And far be it from me to go take her down,
But re: the Blond Wonder we might think again,
And ponder a-full if billions make men,
Or if blabbing with stars is good preparation
For the oil-lube job that much needs our nation.
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Because stars and mag covers don't a pol make,
And big money does nothing but give you a stake
In hitching your star to current status quo,
Making sure nobody disturbs its fat flow,
With a protest, scandal or quaint criticism,
Or Don's Saint P'burg yellow baptism.
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Along with the 'quo come smooth-talking bankers,
Pentagon heavies and CIA gangsters,
Guys who made mincemeat of President O,
Who rarely found strength to give them a no,
Which throws into doubt the narrow parameter,
Of another star prez who's just a rank amateur.
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Status quo means also the Party of Dems,
Decorated lushly in diamonds and gems,
Things that are normal for people with billions,
Which set them apart from the suffering millions,
And Oprah's no different, you've only to view
Her schmooze with Mike Jordan and Chuck Barkley too*.
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Let's also remember folks' feelings abroad,
Who ne'er heard of Oprah, nor are over-awed
By our pushy generals and air-headed kings,
And send fewer soldiers for our foreign flings,
And tight grit their teeth before fair Ivanka,
Who for smart policy is no kind of wonka.
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To talk our proud country down from its ledge,
Requires more skill than to chat o'er the hedge,
It needs a lib version of Trumpian rage,
The touch of a surgeon and grit of a sage,
It needs more than Oprah can possibly give,
More like a Roosevelt if they'll let him live.
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*Starting at 3:02.
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