Prayer for the White House - by Greer Clem
Dear Lord, may you grant that hallowed house sanctity from the Michael Bay set it has become.
May whatever cheap, gilded wallpaper is pasted in the oval be as easily forgotten as the man who works there.
May you, once again, have a first lady who resides there because she is not hiding from her Tang-colored husband.
When Trump tries to trim the hedges into disproportionately large renderings of his hands, may you, dear Lord, open up the ground and save them that anguish.
When penis-shaped fascist Stephen Miller walks across your magnificent lawn, may a little stray dog poop left over from Bo find its way onto his shoe. And may he not notice until he gets home.
Now that human crustacean Steve Bannon is departing, may the Lord rid you, dear house, of whatever STDs he left behind.
And when the day comes, oh noble landmark, when that chinless cheeto of a human is at last removed from your humbling presence, may the Lord take with Trump all the darkness and over-processed snack foods he brought.
That you may return to a symbol of honor and one day house a kickass female president.