The thread just for fly memes
-

-
The Fly (with apologies to E.A. Poe)
Once upon a Wednesday dreary
While I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious question from the moderatorâs floor,
While I harkened Kamelaâs bitching, suddenly there came an itching
On my head â as if some follicle, I muttered, is up there schvitzing.
Only this and nothing more.And the silken, sad, uncertain chatter of the delusory democrater
Filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, I stood repeating
âTis some follicle itching, itching in a hapless pore.
This it is and nothing more.But, no! Not tic nor sweat disturbed my head.
It was a fly â a fly! â a common insect of the saintly days of yore;
âProphet!â said I, âthing of evil!âprophet still, if fly or devil!â
By the Trumpian hell that has enslaved me, by the living God that made meâ
Tell me now what is my story that the Fates have laid me
In November if not before!
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âThe Fly, sitting lonely oâer my eye, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he utteredânot a hindwing then he flutteredâ
Till I scarcely more than muttered âOther friends have flown beforeâ
On the morrow Trump will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.â
Then the Fly said, âNevermore.âStartled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
âDoubtless,â said I, âwhat it utters is its only stock and store
Meanwhile my unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Follows fast and follows faster till his rants one message boreâ
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of âNeverânevermoreâ.ââBe that word our sign of parting, Fly or fiend!â I shrieked, upstartingâ
âGet thee back into the tempest and the Nightâs Plutonian shore!
Take thy mouthparts from out my head, and do not again crossoâer my door!â
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âAnd the Fly is never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
A thousand clickbait sites beshitting
Its eyes have all the gleaming of a demonâs that is dreaming,
As November bears my reaming ever closer to the shore.
When the White House no more echoes loud with Trumpian roar.
And Iâm uncouthly summoned â nevermore! -
The Fly (with apologies to E.A. Poe)
Once upon a Wednesday dreary
While I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious question from the moderatorâs floor,
While I harkened Kamelaâs bitching, suddenly there came an itching
On my head â as if some follicle, I muttered, is up there schvitzing.
Only this and nothing more.And the silken, sad, uncertain chatter of the delusory democrater
Filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, I stood repeating
âTis some follicle itching, itching in a hapless pore.
This it is and nothing more.But, no! Not tic nor sweat disturbed my head.
It was a fly â a fly! â a common insect of the saintly days of yore;
âProphet!â said I, âthing of evil!âprophet still, if fly or devil!â
By the Trumpian hell that has enslaved me, by the living God that made meâ
Tell me now what is my story that the Fates have laid me
In November if not before!
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âThe Fly, sitting lonely oâer my eye, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he utteredânot a hindwing then he flutteredâ
Till I scarcely more than muttered âOther friends have flown beforeâ
On the morrow Trump will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.â
Then the Fly said, âNevermore.âStartled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
âDoubtless,â said I, âwhat it utters is its only stock and store
Meanwhile my unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Follows fast and follows faster till his rants one message boreâ
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of âNeverânevermoreâ.ââBe that word our sign of parting, Fly or fiend!â I shrieked, upstartingâ
âGet thee back into the tempest and the Nightâs Plutonian shore!
Take thy mouthparts from out my head, and do not again crossoâer my door!â
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âAnd the Fly is never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
A thousand clickbait sites beshitting
Its eyes have all the gleaming of a demonâs that is dreaming,
As November bears my reaming ever closer to the shore.
When the White House no more echoes loud with Trumpian roar.
And Iâm uncouthly summoned â nevermore! -
The Fly (with apologies to E.A. Poe)
Once upon a Wednesday dreary
While I pondered weak and weary
Over many a quaint and curious question from the moderatorâs floor,
While I harkened Kamelaâs bitching, suddenly there came an itching
On my head â as if some follicle, I muttered, is up there schvitzing.
Only this and nothing more.And the silken, sad, uncertain chatter of the delusory democrater
Filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, I stood repeating
âTis some follicle itching, itching in a hapless pore.
This it is and nothing more.But, no! Not tic nor sweat disturbed my head.
It was a fly â a fly! â a common insect of the saintly days of yore;
âProphet!â said I, âthing of evil!âprophet still, if fly or devil!â
By the Trumpian hell that has enslaved me, by the living God that made meâ
Tell me now what is my story that the Fates have laid me
In November if not before!
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âThe Fly, sitting lonely oâer my eye, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he utteredânot a hindwing then he flutteredâ
Till I scarcely more than muttered âOther friends have flown beforeâ
On the morrow Trump will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.â
Then the Fly said, âNevermore.âStartled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
âDoubtless,â said I, âwhat it utters is its only stock and store
Meanwhile my unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Follows fast and follows faster till his rants one message boreâ
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of âNeverânevermoreâ.ââBe that word our sign of parting, Fly or fiend!â I shrieked, upstartingâ
âGet thee back into the tempest and the Nightâs Plutonian shore!
Take thy mouthparts from out my head, and do not again crossoâer my door!â
Quoth the Fly, âNevermore.âAnd the Fly is never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
A thousand clickbait sites beshitting
Its eyes have all the gleaming of a demonâs that is dreaming,
As November bears my reaming ever closer to the shore.
When the White House no more echoes loud with Trumpian roar.
And Iâm uncouthly summoned â nevermore!
Hello! It looks like you're interested in this conversation, but you don't have an account yet.
Getting fed up of having to scroll through the same posts each visit? When you register for an account, you'll always come back to exactly where you were before, and choose to be notified of new replies (either via email, or push notification). You'll also be able to save bookmarks and upvote posts to show your appreciation to other community members.
With your input, this post could be even better đ
Register Login














