I see the Stupid God has begun work
Through choosing as an avatar a jerk
Of wrinkled citrus too easy to irk
To trust with power for the ones who think--
Yet thinking clearly's fallen from the brink
And into ruin. Why, then, waste the ink
That many spill to try to get their way,
When it's clear the Stupid God carries the day?
Its wrinkled citrus avatar's at play,
A bitter fruit that some want to be sweet
Or have convinced themselves it will be neat
To take what little drippings from its seat
As flow--from tender divine bowels no grace,
But fetid fluids thence to drown this place.
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