
The Great Big Steal
That Wasn't
Or: How Trumpy-Wumpy Tried to Keep What He'd Lost
"Some things, once done, cannot be undone by a pen β only by forgetting. Don't forget."

Or: How Trumpy-Wumpy Tried to Keep What He'd Lost
"Some things, once done, cannot be undone by a pen β only by forgetting. Don't forget."

Trumpy-Wumpy discovers that votes, once counted, still count
Now every four years in the land of Bumbloo-Wee,
The people would vote for whoever should be
The leader, the ruler, the one at the top.
And counting those votes β well, you simply can't stop.
In the year Twenty-Twenty, the counting was done.
The numbers came in β and Joe Biddle had won.
Seven states tipped the balance. The math was quite clear.
Trumpy-Wumpy had lost by a margin severe.
Now most losing leaders will bow and concede.
They shake hands and say, "May you serve well indeed."
But Trumpy-Wumpy could NOT, would NOT, must not lose β
For losing, you see, was against all his rules.
He tweeted. He bellowed. He claimed it was rigged.
He filed sixty lawsuits β each carefully jigged.
The courts looked them over, each one in their turn,
And tossed them all out. There was nothing to learn.

Easty-Weasty distributes pens in seven states simultaneously
So Trumpy-Wumpy and his lawyers most clever
Devised a new scheme β the most audacious endeavor:
They'd send fake electors to seven whole states,
Who'd sign phony papers and mail them through gates
To Washington, D.C., where they'd claim to be real,
While the actual votes β well, they'd simply repeal.
Easty-Weasty the lawyer, with memos to spare,
Wrote the theory all down with elaborate care:
"The Vice President simply need not count the true votes!"
Which made constitutional scholars write notes.
And Ghoul-iani the lawyer, with hair-dye that dripped,
Held press conferences where his credibility slipped.
He claimed there was fraud! In machines! In the air!
The courts remained skeptical. No evidence there.
In seven great states β Arizona to Wisconsin β
Republican electors sat down to start signin'
False certificates claiming that Trumpy had won,
When everyone knew the real counting was done.

Trumpy-Wumpy dials Georgia with a very specific request
Now Trumpy-Wumpy picked up his phone,
And called up the officials one by one, alone.
To Georgia's Brad Raffley he said with a leer:
"Find me eleven-thousand-seven-hundred-and-eighty votes, dear."
Raffley said, "Sir, I cannot find what isn't there."
Trumpy-Wumpy said, "Just look harder, I swear!"
The call was recorded. The transcript was made.
The history books got it. The truth would not fade.
He called Arizona's brave Rusty-the-True,
Who said, "The results are legitimate. Through and through."
He pressured and tweeted and threatened and raged.
The officials held firm. The democracy stayed.
The Justice Department was next on the list β
Clarksy the lawyer tried hard to assist
By drafting false letters that claimed DOJ
Had "serious concerns" about Georgia's great day.
His colleagues revolted. They threatened to quit.
The letter was stopped. But they all noted it.

Pency-Fency, discovering a spine at the most important moment
There was one final card in the hand yet to play:
The Vice President Pency-Fency on Certification Day.
His job was to count up the electoral votes
And declare the true winner β no caveats or notes.
"Just reject the real ones! Count the fake ones instead!
Or send them back to the states!" Trumpy-Wumpy said.
Pency-Fency consulted his lawyers, the law,
The Constitution itself β and found not one flaw
In the system that said: he had no such power.
No Vice President ever had, in any hour.
Pency-Fency stood firm β to his credit, this day β
Though Trumpy-Wumpy tweeted his anger away.
The crowds who had gathered chanted, voices shrill:
"HANG MIKE PENCE!" echoed loud on Capitol Hill.

Trumpy-Wumpy addresses his followers, January 6, 2021
On January Sixth, in the cold winter air,
Trumpy-Wumpy addressed a great crowd gathered there.
He told them the election had been stolen away.
He told them they'd "never take back the country" that day
If they were "weak." He told them to march to the Hill.
He said he'd be there with them β though he never would be still.
So down the great avenue, thousands did march,
Past monument and memorial, past pillar and arch,
To where the great Capitol stood proud and tall,
Where democracy's ritual was held for all.
While senators and members sat counting the votes,
The mob hit the barriers and ripped at the ropes.
They broke through the windows. They smashed through the doors.
They chased the elected through corridors and floors.
Trumpy-Wumpy watched from his dining room there,
On a flat screen TV, from a comfortable chair.
For three hours he watched. He did not call them back.
He did not call the Guard. He did not call the pack.

The human cost of January 6, 2021
This part of the story is harder to tell
In the bouncing-ball rhymes that the other parts sell.
Because what came next was not whimsy or fun β
It was officers beaten, and injuries done.
One hundred and forty police officers that day
Were beaten with poles, sprayed with chemicals, and maced in the fray.
Officer Sicknick was struck and would die of his wounds.
Four others would later die β trauma that loomed.
The members of Congress, some veterans of war,
Called their families to say last goodbyes at the door.
They barricaded under chairs, put gas masks on,
While outside the chambers, the mob carried on.
Over a thousand were charged with their parts in the crime.
Many were convicted and sentenced to time.
Tarry-Tarrio of the Proud Boys: twenty-two years.
Rhodey-Road of Oath Keepers got eighteen. The tears
Of officers' families β recorded, reported β
Were the verdict that justice, for once, had supported.

Liz-Brave and Adam-True, in the thankless position of being right
Now most of the members of Trumpy-Wumpy's great party
Looked elsewhere or coughed when the questioning got arty.
They squinted and squirmed and they stared at the floor
And hoped that the whole thing would just be ignored.
But two stood apart. Two Republicans, true.
Liz-Brave and Adam-True, they knew what to do.
They joined the committee that searched for the facts,
And followed the evidence through all of its acts.
Their colleagues turned on them. They lost their committee slots.
They got death threats and primaries. Liz-Brave lost her spots
In Congress entirely β tossed out by her state.
But the record she made will outlast all the hate.
For the committee produced what the evidence showed:
A president who knew β and still lit the road.
"He is a seven-part test for a demagogue,"
Said Liz-Brave. The demagogue went on his jog.

Lady Justice, briefly having a very busy year
And justice, for once, took her blindfold quite seriously.
She processed a thousand-plus cases, mysteriously,
Working through charges from trespass to treason,
Convicting the guilty with plentiful reason.
Tarry-Tarrio of the Proud Boys: twenty-two years.
Rhodey-Road of the Oath Keepers: eighteen, with tears.
Hundreds were sentenced for roles great and small,
From storming the chambers to answering the call.
The fake-elector schemers in Georgia were charged,
Eighteen indictments in Fulton β the case was enlarged.
Rudy Ghoul-iani, Sidney Pow-Pow, and more,
Were named as co-conspirators at law's front door.
And Special Counsel Jacky-Smith brought charges against
Trumpy-Wumpy himself β for the election incensed.
Four counts federal. The case was prepared.
Then Trumpy-Wumpy won again β and the charges were cleared.

Trumpy-Wumpy, signing with enthusiasm, not slowing down
When Trumpy-Wumpy returned to the seat of all power,
He acted with speed, in his very first hour:
He pardoned them all β every rioter, each schemer,
Called them "patriots," every last one, every dreamer.
One thousand-plus pardoned! On day one, no less!
The seditious conspirators freed from distress.
In November he pardoned seventy-seven more β
The fake-elector schemers he'd sent out before.
Ghoul-iani was pardoned. Clarksy got free.
Easty-Weasty, Sidney Pow-Pow β all pardoned, you see.
He called it "a grave national injustice undone."
The injustice, said others, had only begun.
For Clarksy the lawyer who'd drafted the lies
Now got a fine job at the DOJ β surprise!
The officials who'd buckled to Trumpy's demands
Now found their careers in official hands.

The pardoned, at large
Now here is the part of the tale most unpleasant to tell:
What happened to some of the pardoned, and where the pins fell.
For pardons, it turns out, are just pieces of paper β
They do not change who a person is, sooner or later.
At least thirty-three of the pardoned, reports said,
Were arrested again β some for crimes that one dreads.
Child sex crimes were among them. Weapons charges too.
Conspiracy to murder FBI agents β a few.
Moynihan threatened a congressman β charged with a felony.
Alam broke into a house. Holdridge did similarly.
Banuelos was charged with a 2018 assault β
Kidnapping and rape. He'd been right: he got no vault.
He'd said in his trial, with a confident grin:
"Trump's going to be in office. I won't go to prison."
He was right about one thing. But wrong about grace β
The new charges meant he still had to face the case.
Some pardoned men received White House invitations.
One rode in a Cabinet member's motorcade's stations.
One joined a school board. Some spoke at GOP events.
And Trumpy-Wumpy called the pardons "great for humanity." Hence.

An honest accounting, in Seussian style
So what do we make of this chapter, this tale?
Of a scheme built on lies with a paper-thin veil?
Of electors who signed what they knew to be fake?
Of a president who watched while his followers break
Down the doors of democracy, smash through the glass,
Then declared the whole thing a fine patriot's mass?
The Capitol still stands. The votes were certified.
The transfer of power, though tested, survived.
The officers who held the line β we remember their names.
The two who investigated β we know what that claims.
Liz-Brave said it plainly before she was done:
"There will come a time when Donald Trump is gone,
But the question of whether we will be a nation of laws,
Or a nation of men β that is the question that draws."
And pardons can clear the official legal page,
But they cannot erase what was done in that rage β
The broken windows, the blood on the floor,
The officers weeping in testimony before
A committee that listened and wrote it all down,
So the record remains, though the pardons abound.
Unless someone cares β really, truly, a lot β
The Bumbloo-Wee world will keep going to rot.
(the historical record, however, does not end)
This is a work of political satire. All events, quotes, convictions, pardons, and subsequent crimes
referenced in the fact badges are drawn from public record, court documents, and published journalism.
The Seussian framing is fictional. The facts are not.
The Capitol was real. The officers were real. The votes were real.
The author maintains no personal grudge against electoral certificates, genuine or otherwise.