Numb. 1510 Proj 2025 | Dip In The As Of Tx

 CLIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES

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PRESENT TENTS, FUTURE OUTDOORS

Sell or buy Elon's AI? 

Are robotaxis impractical?

Breakup with Donald?

Hamilton-Arnold?

Or was it cunning and tactical?

Did Elon replace blowhard know-not

with Afrikaner Tesla robot?

Think Merde-ox-FOX notices

a change in POTUSes?

GOP passes Rand-ayn swill.

Can FEMA remnants rebuild anthill?

Will we survive?

At best, perhaps.

Probable outcome:

see r/collapse.

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CLIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES (5/10/2025)

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CLIPPED FROM THE HEADLINES (4/25/2025)

Numb: 1297 The BYSTANDER Asked For Help From AI

The BYSTANDER requested that 

https://perchance.org/ai-poem-generator compose 

a “Shakespearean sonnet 

on Donald Trump and FEMA".

In a flash what follows 

flowed and scrolled down 

The BYSTANDERS's screen.

Although it's a poem,

that much is clear

(if only in 

BYSTANDER's tin ear),

it isn't a sonnet

and it ain't Shakespeare.

Upon the stage of fate, a man did rise,

With golden locks and words like sharpened knives,

His name was Trump, a king of realms unseen,

In FEMA's shadow, scenes of horror he did weave.

A tempest raged, and storm clouds filled the sky,

The people trembled, wondering if they'd die.

He tweeted forth his power, bold and vast,

Yet in their plight, the storm clouds grew so fast.

He promised walls to keep the floods at bay,

But when the water came, it had its way.

The winds did howl, and buildings fell like leaves,

While he, in comfort, watched from his high perch.

In FEMA's hands, the fate of millions lay,

Yet he did cast their plight as some strange play.

With every gust, a cry for help was sent,

But he was deaf to their desperate lament.

The storm had passed, the waters receded,

Their worlds in ruins, hearts forever ceded.

And in the silence of their darkest hour,

Their cries for aid grew louder, grew in power.

A sonnet, this, of nature's fiercest son,

And one whose heart was never truly won.

The leader, cold, who played the game of thrones,

While FEMA worked, with hearts like warming suns.

Let history judge with eyes unclouded,

The man who claimed the crown, so proudly shrouded.

And may the tale of this tragic pair,

Echo through the halls of truth, forever there.

In sonnet's end, let's not forget the cost,

Of pride and power, of what's truly lost.

For in the storm, 'tis clear to see,

'Tis empathy and aid that truly set us free.

Numb. 1296 FEMA Make Donnie Mad, Must Be Dismantled Today

Will no one rid me of this evil of FEMA,

bring me surcease of who-cares-emergencies?

You will recall how I neatly killed COVID

by ending testing so no one would know if

it truly was COVID that killed you off?

It could have been a very bad cough.

With FEMA gone — no urgent disasters.

I can get back to what really matters.

Cheating at golf! Not flying around

to throw paper towels at hurricaned clowns. 

Numb. 1295 Trump's Disaster Doctrine

President Donald Trump this week said he wants to reshape the Federal Emergency Management Agency as the U.S. faces the daunting task of rebuilding after storm damage in the Southeast and devastating wildfires in California. — AP

America really has no need FEMA,

jobs for waste-of-space Lib-er-al dreamers,

handing out cash to “disaster survivors” — 

lazy, layabout, crooks and connivers, 

too low IQ to wipe their own asses.

Just an excuse for raising our taxes.

God can provide if they need anything,

charities deal with weeping and whaling.

Meantime, my people, prepare guacamole

for NFL finals and Super Bowl.