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Call me Holly Hotwire—your backstage pass to the glam, grit, and gossip of Tinseltown and beyond. I don’t whisper in shadows; I report with a wink, a side-eye, and a searing spotlight on what’s truly hot… and what absolutely isn’t. When I’m not elbow-deep in red carpet breakdowns or calling out cinematic catastrophes, I’m decoding the celebrity circus with equal parts sass and savvy. Expect glittering snark, offbeat obsessions, and just enough journalistic bite to leave a mark. This blog isn’t just about headlines—it’s about who’s really writing the story. And honey, I’ve got the pen.

The Ballot of Trumpalump Two: A Rhymed Sequel to the Circus That Signed Everything Twice

Capitol dome with velvet podium and gold pens, visual satire of 2025 election spectacle.
A floating Capitol dome watches over a surreal carnival of déjà vu, where golden pens scatter like confetti, balloons twist in red tape, and a Roomba circles a velvet podium. The scene mirrors the poem’s satire of repetition, spectacle, and the strange comfort of chaos.

Trumpalump Two: The Circus Comes Back Twice

A rhymed sequel set inside a Capitol-themed carnival, where déjà vu wears a red hat and the gold-plated pen signs everything twice. The Ballot of Trumpalump Two, a satrical poem, skewers the spectacle of repetition. From Sharpie-stained promises to Twitter referees, the sequel unfolds in poetic stanzas that echo the strange comfort of chaos and the logic that packed up and left.

If you’ve ever wondered how the circus comes back to town, this is the blooper reel in verse.

How America Accidentally
Ordered the Sequel

In a land full of tweets and executive flair,
Where facts wore disguises and truth gasped for air,
The people once voted, then voted again,
For the man with the tan and the Sharpie-stained pen.

He shouted on stages, he golfed in the rain,
He promised big walls and he blamed every plane.
He danced like a Roomba, he bragged like a goose,
He called every scandal “a witchy caboose.”

The ballots were counted, then counted some more,
Till logic packed up and walked out the door.
“Let’s do it again!” cried the folks in red hats,
While democracy Googled escape plans for cats.

So Trumpalump Two took the oath with a grin,
Declared Diet Coke the new national sin.
He hired his cousin, his barber, his chef,
And made every Tuesday a Twitter-based ref.

The world watched in awe, then in memes, then in dread,
As the sequel unfolded with chaos ahead.
But America shrugged, said “We’ve seen worse than this,”
“At least he’s consistent and loves to dismiss.”

So if you’re confused how it happened again,
Just follow the trail of the gold-plated pen.
It leads to a land where the loudest gets crowned,
And reason gets lost when the circus comes round.

Any resemblance to real persons, apps, or indictments is purely gilded coincidence.
© 2025 Holly Hotwire / BELA Editorials. All rights reserved. Syndication permitted with attribution and rhinestone respect.

~ * ~ Stay tuned, stay savage, stay sparkly — Holly out. ~ * ~

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