My Next Tattoo: the Strait of Hormuz

“What a sheer love I have for baptizing things

And displaying them in ink, so the relics of my conviction

Grow stronger and dumber than ever before.

In my eager life as a holy warrior,

The Jerusalem Cross has led me to reinvent the Art of War;

You remember: Western civilization versus the “invaders,"

Reclaiming a Holy City held hostage by history.

Yes, that same war is etched onto my chest,

So I’ve renamed the office to match: The Department of War.

But who are the heathens left to purge?

Iran, with its “misleading” gods and desert winds,

Has fueled a wrath as blind and ignorant as a teleprompter’s glow.

Now, I’m “helping” block the Strait of Hormuz,

While I practice the Padahastasana, folding to see my own behind,

I envision my next tattoo right along the line of the blockade,

Born from every platitude I spew into the camera and microphone.

I’m realizing this job is far too vast for a weekend anchor’s ego;

Every syllable I utter detonates in fire and hatred:

Already, 160 Iranian girls lie buried under my “wicked” command.

What’s next on the program?

Check the Signal groups, the intel is already halfway out the door”.

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