It was time to elect a new leader.
The old one had gone to Nugget City,
Nevada.
True, there was only one candidate --
as always.
But I liked his campaign slogan:
"My arms are your legs!"
So I voted for him, and he won.
He was voted leader an unprecedented
three times in a row.
Those were good years for us.
The rains came. The cattle fattened.
Corn stalks grew out of people's ears.
Wall Street and Silicon Valley made
everyone rich -- if you were a certain type
of person, that is.
And if you weren't, the government
gave you food and money.
"My arms are your legs"
was the watchword to prosperity
and contentment.
Schools stayed open. Cars ran
on CBD oil. My eczema
cleared up.
Then a new leader rose up.
And there was civil war.
Because the opposer's
campaign slogan was:
"My legs are your arms!"
This confused people.
Inflamed them.
After the civil war was over,
only a few of us remained.
The state of Delaware was
annexed by Russia.
My electric toothbrush broke.
Everyone stayed home to
watch golf on TV.
There are no more
boba tea shops.
But the sun still rises
every other day
and babies are still born
with spinach in their mouths.
So hope is still with us.
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