​There once lived a boy,
Who just couldn't stack up.
Who talked loads of trash,
He could never back up.

He flexed and he posed,
Like the girls on the Gram.
Even had his own make-up,
To bolster his glam.

But Pete wasn't tough,
And Pete wasn't bright.
Pete wasn't clever,
And Pete couldn't fight.

So he went out and did,
What all posers do.
He faked it and faked it,
Til' you thought it true.

Then one day round noon,
Waking up from his stupor.
He got a text message,
While spewing in the pooper.

And as he yacked up,
The booze from night prior.
Stephen Miller had called...
Trump's Douchebag supplier.

Miller said, "Pete!"
"We could use a lil fight.
In our fascist regime,
So please stop by tonight."

So Pete wiped the vomit,
Up off of his lips.
Applied some foundation,
Pinch hardened his nips.

Before donning a shirt,
Two sizes too tiny.
To show off his tats,
And his firm little heiny.

So Pete slowly waddled,
The White House's halls.
But his jeans were so tight,
They were crushing his balls.

But due to the roids,
And the proteins and powders.
His balls were all shriveled,
Like from a cold shower.

But Pete made his way,
To the resolute desk,
And stood before Trump,
At Miller's request.

"I hear that you're smart"
Said Trump with a grin.
Chortling softly,
Under the folds in skin.

"I need me a man,
Who won't ever say no."
Since the last one refused,
And I told him to "Go."

Pete bowed to the floor.
And said "Sir I'm your man."
"I'll jump when you tell me,
And sit, stay, and stand."

"Whatever it takes,
To maintain the charade...
Of this tough guy appearance,
I've carefully made."

Pete was so giddy,
About his new gig.
That he did a little dance,
That resembled a jig.

Then he plopped in his car,
And leaned forward to breathe,
Into the tube,
So his engine wouldn't seize.

He sat and he stared 
At himself in the mirror.
To see the amalgam,
Of faux manliness clearer.

When all of a sudden,
He got a cold chill.
Was he really prepared?
With the requisite skills?

He shrugged, and he smiled,
For what did he care?
He'd gone through his whole life,
Only semi prepared.

How hard could it be?
"You move some troops here."
"Then you give a mean speech,
Talking shit to the queers."

Trashing DEI, women, 
And immigrants too...
He'd worked for Fox News,
So he knew what to do.

He'd be loud and obnoxious.
A spiteful ole prick.
Authoritative, yet charming,
While not knowing shit.

Of course he could fake it,
For a couple of years.
It's not like he'd need,
Any experience here.

So he picked out some suits,
Red white and blue ties.
And on Monday walked in,
To continue his guise.

Weeks later Pete,
Had his confidence high.
And had planned an assault,
With some aerial guys.

Some jets would swoop in,
Drop bombs, then they'd dip.
But as the old saying goes,
"Loose lips, they sink ships."

So when texting his plans,
Over Signal, the app.
Petey, had slipped up,
And invited some chap.

Who happened to be,
A reported of sorts.
And had read the whole thing,
And then filed his report.

When the news finally had it,
Pete said "It's a hoax!"
"No way this could happen,
It must be some joke."

But the truth of the matter,
Spread far, and spread wide.
Hegseth was a moron,
Finding it hard to hide.

He was the one, 
Who invited the man.
Sent him the details,
Of this new assault plan.

And then lied to the people,
While he knew it was true.
And he just played for time,
As he turned on his crew.

"It was him", Hegseth shouted.
As he pointed around.
No matter the target,
He just had to get out...

...Of the trouble he'd caused,
By just being a twit.
An insufferable, whiney,
Complacent, lil shit.

But the lie, it took hold.
And that man, was then fired.
While Trump, and Heir Miller,
Went out and rehired.

He must be more careful,
He thought to himself...
Before reaching out for,
The bottle on his shelf.

Pouring himself 
A lil glass of the sauce.
And he snickered again,
At the man he had lost.

He escaped it again,
And had gotten away.
Pete just kept dodging,
What got in his way.

The truth is there's more.
About Pete's horrid doings.
From his workplace, his wives...
And the floozies he's screwing.

And someday real soon,
I will tell you that tale.
While Hegseth is hopefully,
Sent off to jail.

But always be wary,
With men like this, Pete.
Who'll turn on their colleagues,
To avoid a bad beat.

And who pose, and pretend,
That they're masculine men.
But who'd rat out their mother,
To avoid the state pen.