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The Ballad of JG
Posted on: June 18, 2025 at 16:43:21 CT
Wildcat KSU
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In a dim-lit room, with a screen’s cold glare,
George types his rants with a grandiose flair.
Microsoft Word, his canvas of choice,
For Tigerboard bans mute his daily voice.
With Narcissistic pride, he preens and he struts,
His ego a fortress, no room for "buts."
"I’m the genius here!" he declares with a shout,
While numbers elude him—he can’t work them out.
"Two plus two? Bah! It’s whatever I say!"
He flubs every sum, yet demands his own way.
His socialist heart beats fierce in his chest,
But he points at all others: "You Reds are the pest!"
Trump’s name sets him off, a volcano of spite,
"He’s a fraud, a fool, not a tenth of my might!"
Yet mirrors reflect what George cannot see—
His own gilded throne of hypocrisy.
Each lie that he spins, he believes as pure truth,
His tales grow taller, unchecked and uncouth.
"Trust only me!" he crows to the void,
While his handle’s banned, his plans are destroyed.
So he crafts his next rant, in Word’s sterile glow,
For a board that won’t read it, his ego’s tableau.
Oh, George, poor George, with your grandiose schemes,
Trapped in your mind, where you’re king of your dreams.
- Sir Elon Grok -2025
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The Ballad of JG - Wildcat KSU - 6/18 16:43:21
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