H/T Renee H

I am blogging from McDonald’s today. The louder-than-necessary, wall-mounted TV is set to CNN, and Donald Trump is being attacked on all fronts. A talking airhead, which is what passes for a serious journalist at the Clinton News Network, is joining a flaming liberal as they vocalize their righteous indignation over today’s liberal lie du jour, a couple of obviously paid female creeps claiming that Donald Trump sexually assaulted them.

Any American who cannot see through this transparent lie should surrender his or her voter registration card immediately.

The media is attacking Donald Trump, the Party of Scum (Democrat) is attacking him, even his own party is attacking him. The Donald has only one friend, We the People.

Enjoy Sundance’s poem, below, Meet At The Old Mill, We Ride At Midnight…. mimicking Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s Paul Revere’s Ride.

From [email protected]Conservative Treehouse

Listen my children and you shall hear
Of the consequence of a rational fear,
Through the days of October, in Twenty-Sixteen;
Hardly a man remains to be seen
Who remembers those famous days that year.

One man gave rise to corruptions’ removal
With steadfast admonishment despite their refusal
Held the Q-beam aloft and lighted their ruse
A billionaire walked in the average mans shoes;
Elitists decried the demands to step down
As the rallies continued in village and town;
Admonished and more they were labeled deplorable
Yet the strong brilliant faces were simply adorable.

“How dare you to challenge”, snooty voices decried
Staying strong in the falsehood, retaining their lie;
Looming faces returned were both stoic and bold
“Is that all you have” the firm patriots told.

A weaponized congress, an unchecked regime
Continuing hard with their pillage and scheme;
“How dare you to challenge”, they shouted yet louder
Ignoring their place and their fate from dry powder,
“No longer your House”, their words seemed to scream
Forgetting their stewardship of America’s dream.

The horizon soon filled with a most monstrous sight,
A trumpeters call was heard all through the night.
Beyond scale, beyond scope, was the size of the crew
An unwashed arrival in plain well-worn shoe;
“Who can these folks be” the elitist’s decried,
These faces, these creatures, attacking our pride.
“Did you tell them their place is not ever near here?”
One well cultured leader remarkably sneered;
How dare they advance, this vulgarian team –
How dare they to challenge our most glorious scheme.

Yet advance they continued, the patriots all
Through the door, down the course and amid every hall;
“There are simply too many”, the palace guards fret,
Seeming silly not to notice the foregrounds Trump jet.
“Call to Ryan, or McConnell, Ms. Pelosi or Reid”,
These vulgarian hordes are dismounting their steed;
“We cannot let them stay”, a gulping voice muttered,
“Well then you tell them that”, a retreating voice stuttered.

As the voters then swarm through the well marbled halls,
The scope of indulgence leaves no-one enthralled;
Outrageous expenses turn stares into rage,
We’ve paid for a theater complete with a stage?
The silver adornments, mahogany desks, the visual sense of comeuppance expressed.
How hoighty and arrogant the inhabitants became,
Oblivious all to the sense of their shame.
This grandiose mess is just why we are here,
Spending on foolishness, yet how you sneer.

Indeed you may spite us, and hate our appearance,
But our livelihood’s effort demands your adherence.
When you dismiss our values amid all your spending
You leave us no option, than to take over the mending.
When you contract our soil to the nations that hate,
It is our call to arms that controls our own fate.
When you sell out our efforts, then line your own pocket
We will move using recourse, and put your ass on the docket.

When you ignore us so much that you lie and you steal,
We will show up writ large and then force a repeal.
When your Jonathan Gruber can scheme with a grin,
Don’t blame us for arriving, that’s just where we begin.
If you think for a moment our resolve isn’t strong
Consider our leader, and you’ll know you are wrong.

Trump’s not the teleprompter tactician with prose
He’s our glorious bastard who thinks on his toes.
Our leader may not be refined, or PC,
But for many of us, well, he’s just like me.
A man never wanting to run for these stakes,
Is the vulgarian type who can deal with you snakes.

We wouldn’t be here if you’d just done your jobs,
And stopped being a bunch of industrious snobs.
Your DC led schemes have the nation a mess
Embattled, worn out and fraught with distress.
Because of your efforts she’s tattered and torn
One man has stood up to respond to the horn.

Donald Trump isn’t perfect, he’s far from that place,
But nobody else is as right in this race.
There’s another thing known about our candidate true,
It’s that none is more openly Red White and Blue.
Trump might not be the one who we needed before
But by God how we need him – right now, even more.

~Sundance