Dear Abby, Dear Abby (Advice for Inheritance Woes?)

[AccuTron]

Dear Abby, Dear Abby,

Help me, I’m stuck.

I’m utterly baffled,

About sharing my luck.

 

Incredible house,

Very well placed.

And the invested bounty

Kinda sorta aced.

 

Gotta go somewhere,

After I’m gone.

But who gets it,

House, goods, and lawn?

 

I have none available, as next of kin,

(Not counting that one, so reeking of sin.)

 

 

Who is it, that I can benefact,

Who isn’t determined to always lact?

You know what I mean:  Attached to Satan’s hiney!

Clung to it strongly, like some kind of viney!

 

 

 

I am desperately reaching,

Grasping for straws.

Only one family

Even gives me pause.

 

The parents have, if anyone does,

Clear B.S. detectors, not blocked with fuzz.

 

Yet they sit immersed, 

Socially woven,

In a group of liberals,

Into the liars’ coven.

 

Monstrous, is the sin in this group.

Feminized, it bars justice it’s coup.

 

 

A parent wrecks her family, they are paralyzed;

Yet done softly, it goes un-chastised.

 

 

A man who is surely, 

By his demeanor,

The most just of social warriors,

Who could be meaner?

 

And he did it!

By Golly, he did!  

I asked him to think,

And he sent me a link —

 

“Stefan a cult leader!”

Oh dear me, 

Have we found Satan’s door greeter?

 

And the links inside? — every one of them dead!

(Safe to say, so’s the inside of his head.)

 

Twenty minutes or less, 

Discovered the source of the note:

Parents of a suicide; 

Seeking a scapegoat.

 

Did he clean up the mess?

What do you guess?

Lacking bone central,

Vanished, and returned to, described here, Sin Central.

 

 

Proud of their education, 

Yuppety yuppety, yum!

But the truth of Fukushima, or MGTOW?

Oh, well, ummmm….

 

 

And oh yes, at their table!

The one that Satan finds most able,

To poison the minds of the young!

He’s a climate professor,

And thinks fraud Mann is a chum!

 

 

 

 

 

Then did a sudden death,

Seem to point a way?

I hadn’t seen them in twenty years,

If it’s been a day.

 

And yet again, 

Ever deeper my sigh,

Those damn fool idiots,

Kneel at Satan’s thigh.

 

Dangling at your lips?

Virginia Slims or Virginia Teeny,

It’s still Satan’s 

Filter-tipped weenie.

 

It made you watch 

Your patriarch die;

I won’t watch you

Inhale that lie. 

 

When I last saw that girl, she was not a drug addict.

 

 

 

Dear Abby, Dear Abby,

I’m truly in the dumps.

Who am I to choose,

From this range of chumps?