The Victors

In the land of the maize and the blue and the bold,
On a board that is lively (though some say it’s old),
The Victors all gathered one Friday so late
To post and to argue and pontificate. “Preseason football is stupid!” cried Alpo with glee,
While others discussed J.J.’s ankle, you see.
McCoy news was gloomy, the Tigers stranded a man,
And Skubal was likeable — root against him? Who can? Then lawn mowers roared in a thread long and loud:
Gas engines are filthy, the posters avowed.
Ego and Greenworks and Kobalt and more —
Batteries and blowers and mowers galore!
Old Craftsman still running with nary an oil,
While others went electric to save on the toil. A Vulcan named Bianca was smoking, they said,
And Kelce must wonder each day in his bed
How he ended up married to Taylor the Swift
(Though some found her annoying — a rather large rift). In Aruba a dinner with ladies Colombian,
Fake this and fake that and lights shining on ’em.
Papa Doc went to Michigan? “Not great,” they opined.
While cherry wood waited to be properly twined. The politics flew like a Cat in the Hat:
The media, the president, this one and that.
ICE buying robot-dogs, Milo detained,
Fox News in a panic, the usual refrain.
Thoughts and prayers offered with plenty of snark,
While posters named handles from boards in the dark. They asked for recaps in McCarthy-esque gloom
Or altar-call sermons to lighten the room.
Books were debated — Blood Meridian too,
Lonesome Dove, Hemingway, the usual crew. So on Friday they posted from evening till late,
A glorious jumble of sports, life, and hate.
No posts yet on Saturday (it’s still rather new),
But the Victors keep Victoring — Hail, maize and blue! (Don’t be a Tom Izzo. That’s Rule Number Four.)