There once was a fellow who called himself R. Trent
In letters to the editor he’d often vent
Right wing foibles he’d always lament
Unfortunately his name he’d sometimes misrepresent
That doesn’t invalidate the rest of his argument
To his subjects the letters caused such anguish and torment
That they called the local police to register their discontent
They said he’s committing a breach of trust with fraudulent intent
Never mind that anonymous lobbyists pumping $$$ get their assent
So that at campaign time all the liberals are sure to get outspent.
They were beside themselves with phony outrage over a non event,
Because they always need another straw bogey man to invent.
Treats minor chicanery like a seismic event.
Anyone who thinks I’m “Sarah” must be sniffing rubber cement
Tags: Barney Fife, conspiracy theories, earthquakes, Eureka Coalition for Jobs, Fake names, faux outrage, glue sniffers, Hypocrite right wingers, Shadowy Corporate lobbyists, Thin skinned, Trumped up
July 7, 2008 at 2:16 am
There’s an R. Trent behind every bush
say the paranoid righties who sit on their tush
and blog paranoid confusion all day
There’s even a Salzman in Humboldt Bay.
July 7, 2008 at 4:24 am
Salzman’s face in the yellow curtains when they sway
And in the mashed potatoes at the casino lunch buffet
July 8, 2008 at 4:26 am
There once was a Richard named Salzman
When Rose met him she shouted “oh balls, man”
When he wrote a crank missive
Her posts were dismissive
and the lingering quarrel appalls, man
July 9, 2008 at 4:06 am
A political operative who some people call “Dick”
Used phony names because he thought he was too slick.
When the Hankster got wind and exposed this trick.
The Monopoly Man tried to pummel Dick with a silver tipped swagger stick
July 10, 2008 at 6:32 am
R.Trent in a Thai restaurant eating a bamboo shoot
On his cellular phone , wearing a three piece suit
To some, the panic he causes it’s very acute.
Say he does nothing but rake in campaign loot.
They claim they saw him shove over an HTL coot.
And incite road rage during the morning commute
By showing cars with “Rodoni” stickers the middle finger salute.
a whole host other things we cant possibly refute
bet he hates Santa and the Easter Bunny to boot
R.Trent’s face in the contrails of the air route
Against all that’s good and decent he’s resolute
keep wishing he’ll get caught in his birthday suit
Hanging out late in a house of ill repute
writing nasty letters about people who pollute.
Always, they say, he is at the center of the dispute.
Thank you very much it’s been a hoot
July 13, 2008 at 4:40 pm
There once was an activist on Thank Jah
Who called weekly to say, “Hip-hurrah!”
Promoting candidates for election,
Until was given a rejection,
When a newspaper called in the law!
His companion, a long-legged mutt,
Alleged to write letters to strut,
Her master’s good deed
Of exposing the greed
Of many a right-wing nut.
His house and computers seized and searched,
With a front-page photo resembling Lurch,
And nothing was found
But the rumors abound
By the sycophants and the un-churched.
July 13, 2008 at 6:54 pm
Though exonerated someday he may be
By those who’ve despised him with glee
Like Samuel Clemmons / Mark Twain
Pseudonyms wreaks some folk’s disdain
When forgiveness should now be the key!
July 13, 2008 at 7:44 pm
It’s true his letters had some pepper
On the campaign trail, he’s no schlepper
But nowdays he gets treated like a leper
Because he’s not an Arkley goose stepper
April 3, 2009 at 8:47 pm
as the storms of winter meander into the Spring,
we experience the warmth that our balconies can bring.
Me, I delve into the mind of one in a cell,
who is learning to live out here and away from that prison hell.
Yes, I have to cook my own dinner and then scrub out my pot,
I’ll enjjoy desert, whether i’m ready or not.
I get to stuff myself with everything I can find,
in the evenings I seek peace in the shadows of my mind.
The things I used to do do not amuse me now,
and I will get published, some way , some how.
Now my relatives must fill in that slot,
that makes me feel redeemed, makes me feel like I fought.
Tha crimes of the past must stay in their hiding place,
and there will be no mug shots adorned with my face.
If your looking to bust me, look past my body, still tall,
I am no longer guilty, I do not have to fall.
So greetings to all in Humboldt,enjoy yourself a nug,
if you see me say hi, but don’t expect a hug
September 19, 2009 at 12:11 pm
Wow, Dick. Back to writing about yourself in the third person. That didn’t take long. You didn’t learn a thing, did you. Fortunately, we’re not through teaching you.