This fillip so modern of using fake news

To further your ends and shore up your views,

Is giving real oomph to world affairs,

And a new set of tools to those who use scares

To move their agenda instead of create

A nuance, consensus or policy skate.

I refer, of course, to the fake news du jour,

Assad’s dropping of gas and Vlad’s force de tour,

The latter averring a new rigged election

By drinkers of vodka who lent course correction,

When so many voters thought voting no fun,

And Hillary looked set to butt-kick The One.

Gas, luckless folks, the wrong place, the wrong time,

Is all that’s known about the latest war crime,

But enough to commit our bombers to pound

Real Syrian bases and not the surround,

Daring the Russkies to do something about it:

“C’mon, make our day, for once not just pout it.”

In Moscow and Damasc’ they’re taking this guff,

Probably wondering just who writes this stuff.

They haven’t yet learned the Yankee adoption

Of zero-source news where truth is an option,

Spread by guys who share the prez’s hairdresser,

And love a good latté or boutique expresser.

And so, gents, I offer this wisdom withal:

You can’t beat the rap, you can’t fight City Hall.

Your best bet, Bashar, is to do a Hussein,

To Trump leave the mess and the Treasury the pain,

Take dacha in Moscow and have the last laugh,

As Iowans try and tell class from riffraff.

Always with fire, Vlad, can a fire best be fought,

So why not hold forth on all that you’ve wrought?

Just fudge the part about you taking Don’s dimes:

T’were the Journal’s, The Post’s, and The New York Times’.

The old dodge of the media scaring up sales:

For there’s nothing like Trump for curing what ails.