Feel free to publish, post, or pass on Your Weekly Politickle by F.R. Duplantier:
I had lots of ideas what to be,
But my costumes were all non-PC:
Halloween’s not so fun
When there’s so much to shun,
So I guess I’ll just dress up as me.
From the archive
DON OF THE DEAD
Deep in Boondoggle Bog, the Beast thrives,
Until one day The Donald arrives.
“They are draining the swamp!”
She shrieks, running: clomp, clomp.
“He is coming! Run! Run for your lives!”
“I may act like Elmer Fudd
And appear to be a dud,
But I’m truly spectacular,
The awesome Count Barackula,
And I want to suck your blood.”
HOUSE OF HORRORS
By the demons we all have been taunted
As unnatural powers were flaunted,
But the townsfolk will rout
And then drive the fiends out
Of the House on the Hill that is haunted.
GETTING WHAT WE ASK FOR
Halloween we all shout “Trick or Treat!”
As we hit every house on the street.
The next morning we wake
With a bad stomach ache,
‘Cause we had too much candy to eat.
With the change in the House status quo, see
The new Madame Speaker Pelosi
Enduring the glare
With the crazed, glassy stare
Of a transgendered Bela Lugosi.
NIGHT OF THE VOTING DEAD
“We’ll be summoned from slumberous state
To endorse the biennial slate;
Then it’s back to the grave,
Where we’ll try to behave
‘Til another electoral date!”
THE GREAT BUMPKIN
Linus scans the nightscape scary
For a form imaginary:
There, looming tall
Like an orange ball,
Glows a pumpkin-colored Kerry!
What compares to the horrible fright
That will haunt us on Halloween night?
Consider the fear,
As elections draw near,
Ghoulish candidates soon will excite!
Bush had plenty of sleep before,
Knowing now he will get no more,
With the clanking chain
And the cries of pain
From the ghost of a grieving Gore.
There once was a man named Vlad
Who was known for a habit he had:
With such pride in his nailing,
When he took to impaling
No one ever would challenge his chad.
What a vile conglomeration
Of every abomination:
In Clinton’s wake,
Only villains will make
A bid for the nomination.
WHAT IS IT, E-GORE?
The mad doctor was testing a drug
When he felt on his labcoat a tug:
“Master, oh Master,
We’ve got to work faster
To destroy the Millennium Bug!”
From justice they craftily fled
And avoided the sanctions they dread;
Now O.J. and Bill
Can linger at will
In the night of the fast-living dead.
Last week’s limerick
Every “truth” in their credulous creed
Was instilled by the MSM feed:
How their heads will explode
When the false “facts” erode
And the real truth comes out at warp speed!