We’ve all known utterly insufferable people like ICK.
I know Elise StefanICK:
A more repulsive Tracey Flick.
Narcissism in every pore,
Tracey StefanICK, the boor.
We all knew ICK’s like this in school,
Nothing could EVER make them cool.
They smiled too hard, and laughed too loud,
In search of ANYONE to call a crowd.
ICK’s hand shot up at every question,
Giving classmates indigestion.
First in line, last in friends,
ICK would do your deep-knee bends, if ICK could.
Consumed with ICKself,
Raised on Cable,
ICK sat alone
At an ICKKY lunch table.
ICK swallowed some pride,
And spit up that grin.
Trump’s team, of course,
Would welcome ICK in.
First Congress; Next regress;
Then groveling for the U.N.
ICK entered the Oval Bordello,
Oozing over the Corpulent One.
On Oval Office Day,
ICK’s smile cracked;
Cameras were all on the attack,
Each shutter shouting “click, click, click.”
“It’s me, it’s me, they’re all calling me,” said ICK,
Making her hometown constituents sick.
The lights! The greasepaint! The air was so thick!
All screaming ICK’s name. How so very ICK…