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A LIGHTER TAKE | DEBRA A. KLEIN

The great tweetstorm of 2017

Sam Hodgson/The New York Times

Michael Flynn in the lobby of Trump Tower on Dec. 12, 2016.

By Debra A. Klein  

Some time in the future, with apologies to Rudolph and Burl Ives:

SNOWMAN: Oh, hi there. What’s the matter? Haven’t you ever seen a talking snowman before? Next thing you’ll say you hadn’t heard of the giant tweetstorm of 2017. What’s that? You haven’t heard the story? Well, pull up an ice block.

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This was a turbulent year in America, and especially in Washington, D.C. Special counsel Robert Mueller and his team of Justice elves were toiling away in their legal workshops, barely eating, hoping to find a clear path to the truth about election collusion. But what with the smokescreens and flurry of distractions clouding their way, they weren’t sure they’d ever break through.

What Mueller needed was a beacon to follow, some help to guide him on his journey to bring evidence against all the bad little girls and boys. And that someone arrived on the scene just in time:

[SINGS]

You know Spicer and Comey and Priebus and Gorka;

Tom Price and Bannon, The Mooch, and Bharara;

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But do you recall? The most famous Trump cast-off of all?

Mike Flynn, who knows Red contacts

Happened behind all our backs,

Could spill the beans to Mueller

On everything ’bout Kislyak.

Mike Flynn, the turncoat staffer,

Can spell “I’m Lyin’ ” with his name,

Could cop a plea to tell all,

And point out the people in the game.

Then one foggy, light news day;

Mueller made his play —

“If you reveal those covered tracks,

Then I’ll ignore the Logan Act.”

Soon all the White House players

Were tweeting fast and nervously.

They never thought “Swan” Mueller

Would swoop in on them so speedily!

Mike Flynn, the babbling Gen’ral,

Is ratting on colluding hacks,

A small gift for those resisters

Who top their trees with angel-winged Baracks!

Mike Flynn the knows-Red blame-flee-er;

You’ll go down in his-to-ry!

SNOWMAN: And history was made. Come back next time and I’ll tell you all about the producers, actors, anchormen, and other public figures banished forever to the Island of Misogynistic Boys, where they learned a special version of “There’s Always Tomorrow,” called “Nope, Sorry, It’s The End of the Line For You.” Until then, have a holly, jolly day!


Debra A Klein is a writer in San Francisco Follow her on Twitter @IWishIHadTyped.