Lament   The world’s burning. What’s the use of satire if the satiree-in-chief gets the joke — adores himself for it? Go ahead, fire   off an angry letter — what if no one can read anymore? Why preach to the choir when the choir can’t sing and they spend their Sundays   elsewhere? What’s the point of laws to soak the rich if the rich stay dry? Where’s the fun in waking up when we’re already woke?     © Michael Fleming Brattleboro, Vermont September 2019