In This Corner
In This Corner
Weighing in at 140 pounds and dwindling,
barely five-foot-something,
known for their work ethic,
is 92% of the American population,
some angry, some brainwashed,
some apathetic, some simply perplexed:
Let’s hear it for the Plebs!!!
Weighing in at —
excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,
I’ve just been informed
that weight is not public information —
weighing in at undisclosed,
holding 80% of wealth in the stock market,
ever increasing in size and influence,
are America’s billionaires,
hungry for any additional victory they can achieve:
Let’s hear it for the Modern Monarchs!
The bell rings!
Before a single Pleb can protest,
the Modern Monarchs surgically start to remove
sensible regulations protecting the Plebs.
The jab lands clean
before the Plebs can parry.
The Monarchs taunt,
and rapidly shift to
Public Policy Tilting,
cutting funds for infrastructure,
environmental protection,
healthcare and education,
world health and food programs,
dissolving USAID.
What a show from the Monarchs:
They duck, pivot, bob and wave
with their effective cross-arm defense
and their backsteps against fair taxation,
leaving the confused Plebs bewildered,
exhausted, holding the proverbial bag,
sinking to the canvas from its weight.
The Plebs are tough and get to their feet!
The Plebs square off again
with the start of a one-two combination,
but the Monarchs slip and roll
defending with legal leverage,
using lawfare to swamp the Plebs,
brandishing immunity regulations,
delaying accountability,
countering and elbow blocking
the IRS from pursuing audits,
withholding money rightfully owed to the Plebs!
The Plebs are stunned,
groggy, wobbling, staggering,
but hanging in there
dishing out a $5 million penalty for fraud!
The Monarchs pull and counter
with identical twins
turning that 2022 lawsuit
from the Commodity Futures Trading Commission
into an apology,
and a stunning reversal
in favor of this Trump 2024 Campaign donor twosome!
The Monarchs are dominating this contest.
Let’s be honest, folks: the Plebs have no chance!
The Monarchs, trained by the most expensive personal trainers,
are 4000 times more likely to hold political office than the Plebs,
and have the means to influence what they don’t hold,
putting these Plebs at an insurmountable disadvantage!
The Monarchs trade in favors:
a bill for a check,
another seat in their pocket.
The bell rings to end round one.
The Plebs glance at their corner,
but there is no stool,
no medical attention,
all of their allocated funds
invested in gold stools
for the Modern Monarchs.
The bell for round two rings.
The Plebs valiantly face the Monarchs again!
The Monarchs cuff, clip, smash,
throwing haymakers at will!!!
How can the Plebs remain standing?
The Monarchs brazenly pound contributions
at Congressmen, Senators,
at local representatives:
for every cent landed
dollars are reaped!
The Plebs attempt to counter with a $47 donation.
The swing is wild, but they keep swinging:
Monarchs laughing off the few weak punches that land.
The Plebs remind the Monarchs
that the Plebs paid for the arena,
for the seats,
for the ring!
The Monarchs remind the Plebs
who paid for the referee!!!
The Plebs continue to sway,
left to right,
right to left,
with no apparent sense of direction.
The ref takes a well-deserved nap.
The Monarchs brandish weapons:
inflating slabs of beef,
gas pump handles,
coffee cans, medical bills,
overdue rent, credit reports.
Pugilistically, the Plebs are in a deep deficit,
unable to fight back the endless inflation.
The Monarchs land another uppercut and another!
An endless flurry of complaints
rains down on the Plebs’ credit profiles!
The Plebs are buckling at the knees
but still keep to their feet!
A brutal combination from the Monarchs!
Stop-work orders straight to the jaw!
Supervisory exams — closed!
Twenty-two pending actions against the banks — dropped!
And a solar plexus punch to finish the round:
fifteen hundred regulators dismissed in a single afternoon!
Ladies and Gentlemen,
this is absolutely astonishing:
The Plebs have lost billions and billions
since the match has begun—
and yet—
are miraculously holding on!
Folks, it’s clear:
the Monarchs look to end this match—
but—
the Plebs refuse to go down for the count.
On cue,
the referee
comes between
the Plebs and the Monarchs,
halts the match,
holds up two fingers
in front of the Plebs—
and lands a three-punch combo,
followed by a kidney punch,
sending the Plebs to the floor!
The count begins.
Half the arena,
Plebs themselves,
join the count,
cheering wildly!
The crowd certainly looks pleased!
Their pockets may be empty
but this once-in-a-lifetime entertainment
allowed them to root for a real winner!
— zumwalt (05 2026)
