The Beefiest of Men

In a windowless room with fluorescent glare,

Kash Patel whispered, “The beefiest—send them there.”

He pored through files with a gleam in his pen,

Seeking nothing but Big. Beefy. Men.

Pete Hegseth stood by, with a patriotic sigh,

Flexing his jawline beneath a Fox chyron sky.

“No fatties in foxholes!” he barked with disdain,

“Trim that brisket, boys—tighten the chain!”

But then he frowned, clutching his mug like a trophy,

“For the record,” he muttered, “just not too beefy.”

And the troops all nodded—half confused, half tense,

While someone whispered, “He said no beardos hence.”

Meanwhile Stephen Miller, pale as chalk,

Stormed Fox & Friends for his morning talk.

AOC had joked—oh, the nation roared—

“Four foot ten with fascist chords!”

Now poor Stephen fumed, live on air,

Adjusting his chair to seem taller there.

He puffed, he scowled, his veins did show,

While producers whispered, “Raise his torso—go!”

And in strode J.D. Vance, memes in tow,

From Reddit to Threads, he began to glow.

Once “Hillbilly Elegy,” now meme-fuel prime,

His quotes get looped in TikTok rhyme.

He nods, he smirks, with a populist cue,

Then says to the crowd, “Remember to say Pwease and Thank You.”