Katie Bar the Door

Good evening! My name’s Katie Britt – I’m coming to you from my kitchen.
Do I want to run as Trump’s VP pick? For that job, I’m itchin’.
In my family, we hold hands and look for guidance straight from God,
and as I speak to you tonight, you’ll find my cadence somewhat odd.

I come from Alabama, and my husband is ex-NFL.
I’m here to share with all of you my vision of our current hell.
I’m younger than Joe Biden is, and promise I’m in better shape.
And now that we’ve been introduced, I’ll speak repeatedly of rape.

Whenever anything’s gone wrong these last few years, it’s ‘cause of Joe.
It’s great to live in ‘Bama – well, unless you are an embryo.
How long’s it been since Joe pumped gas, or grocery shopped? At least a minute.
Everything is Joe’s fault now. At least, that’s how I’m gonna spin it.

Fentanyl, and Communists, and murders – the worst kind, horrific.
Lots of other things bad things, too; I don’t have time to be specific.
All you moms and dads out there, I must appeal to you directly:
don’t you wonder how these Alabama folks chose to elect me?

Speaking to you from my kitchen, even though it’s spic and span,
may not have been the proper place to bitch about Afghanistan.
Center stage this evening I was praying that I’d come into –
but now it’s clear that I britt off much more than I can ever chew.