The Doing of Don'ts by Dumbdolt Dump ("The Don'ts") is a traditional epic passed down by oral tradition from enclaves in the post-urban Pacific Northwest.
Origins
The poem was originally published in The Phelan New York Times Op-Ed section by Soimon Boyd. The poem portrayed the contemporary president as satirical character Dumbdolt Dump, in the form of a nursery rhyme. The poem was ridiculed by detractors but soon forgotten, yet its supporters considered it a proud point of resistance to the regime to recite or print the poem or references to it.
After the Liberal Genocide, the poem had little circulation for a few decades, but was generally ignored in archives. After literacy was outlawed, survivors maintained the text in an oral tradition.
Selected Excerpts
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Original Op-Ed version by Soimon Boyd, The Phelan New York Times, December 2nd, 2032: |
Translation of an oral recitation in a derivative dialect of Cascadian Inclusive English by indigenous performers in the Seattle outlands, transcribed Chungusmonth 69th, 2402: |
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In the Before Times, before the shitshow we call “now,” things were so much better it's hard to express how.
The time was the Aughts, arguably the Protagonist Years, when the world was mostly about programming and craft beers.
I never had to worry about all this political drama when we had a respectable president (Obama). |
Time before was happy! Happy happy happy! Happy happy happy happy Happy happy happy! (repeated until crowd is warmed up)
In the zero times, the Olds got made young. There was plenty of trash, and plenty of dung.
There was this water called beer that we want, please let me know if you hear anything on that front.
Our king was a brown man, He was very good! We liked the brown man, He was very good! (repeated until crowd is ecstatic, rising to their feet)
Praise The Obungler!
(ceremonial orgasmitor conducts a short performance)
Please, O great Obungler, obungle our jungle!
Crowd response x3: Obungle our Jungle! (crowd is seated) |
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The head of state sadly developed a cancerous lump in the form of a man named Dumbdolt Dump. Only with Taft had we a president more plump. You could bounce a quarter off his big fat rump. They said he couldn't hold it and had to wear diapies, and suck a pacifier and use baby wipies.
If they said not to do it, he always did it. Give him new pants, and he'd probably shid it.
But somehow he hornswoggled a third of the nation, and so we endured with dismayed resignation.
And though my portfolio still stood strong, the low interest rates would not persist for long. |
Then came an evil king, Dongbulb Dump. He was a very prosperous man with big lumps on his head, both of which are auspicious and honorable in a leader.
Dongbulb was of the Olds made young anew, and shidded freely as children do.
(Performer playing role of Dongbulb Dump enters, dressed as a baby.)
Dongbulb Dump: I am bad dumb baby man!
Dongbulb cast poopus on the norms of old, Discarding the Rules like a couch full of mold.
But one in three fell victim to his spell, sending fiscally conservative but socially liberal centrists into a special kind of hell.
The Big Line went up despite the evil king, but this blessing too would be a temporary thing. |
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This freaking Dorito just started a war, without even asking permission before!
When he nuked Havana I was so frickin' mad! So much for summer in Corpus with dad!
He was right to drop the bomb, I admit it did work. But he did it so racistly -- just frick off, you jerk!
No war, nor plague, nor famine, nor death, could ever be as bad as Mr. Diet Coke Breath! |
This freaking Do-ritớ just started a war, without even honoring the un-gods before!
The Big Island Kawhumpus was such a bother! I shall never merge suns with the holy un-father!
We all know the Kawhumpus simply had to be, but like any form of war, you must do it politely or leave!
No war or plague or famine or death could ever compare to his Dayatkoq breath! (The Dongbulb performer mimes quaffing a chalice of the lost holy drink Dallecóc, but through a stage trick breathes out a mouthful of smoke at the crowd, who recoil in exaggerated horror. And just as the verse described, a child shids freely.) |
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When he burned all the Poors it was a crime against humanity, the whole frickin' city smelled like a huge rotting manatee!
My dog wouldn't walk, she couldn't stand the haze. Everyone I knew smelled homeless for days.
And then he went and rounded up all the Chinese. That didn't do anything, we needed Febreze!
And soon, there was no one to dash my door. No one to bring me sweet treats anymore.
I felt really sad for my Indian neighbors. But they really should have kept an eye on their papers. |
Dongbulb burned all the People Of Lesser Means, and foul clouds filled the sky that smelled of spoiled beans!
My Foodcat wouldn’t leave our cave for the smell, and my tribesmates all reeked of bad people from hell.
Then the Far-Bad-Opposite-People were the next target. The smell was so bad, we were taught never to forget.
The yummy good treats from the big trashy cans were no longer replenished as evil swept the lands.
And so we Good People shed tears for our fellows, no matter the failings of the Browns and the Yellows. |
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Some really cool movies came out in those days. Not really related but if you haven't already, you should see Marble Hero's [sic]: End of Days.
Armageddon for our world loomed scarily nigh, the sun of ruin blazing ever high;
when my favorite three Marble Heroes came to the rescue, Bolbering, and Dryglobs, and The Incredibly Hung??? Hell yes, dude!
They punched the bad guys right through a dang wall, but then the bad guy punched them back through multiple equally dang walls.
But then they came back and punched him at once, three cool buff dudes doing a sweet triple-punch,
and he flew through a spaceship’s front wall like a sheet, right out into space, it was so frickin’ sweet!
If you haven’t seen the first two they are all cheap on streaming, On Poobee or Peeboo or Wangluo Dianying.
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In this time there came a revelation in which peaceable minds might find salvation:
We’re not getting into this shit, it’s just too much, if you want the full version get it online or some such. |
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Good Liberals, exercise your voting veto! Unless you like being ruled by a dang Dorito!
That voting harder thing, you know what I mean. Better than being led by a frickin' Lima bean!
Seriously, this will solve every problem. Unlike being a prostate gnome to that gape goblin! |
The Good Peoples were called to declare a Vote, the only weapon that could right this boat.
And when they declared the Vote good and true, the unpleasant beans of the earth ceased to be grew.
And the Vote would save them all from all problems, and the Vote vanquished tribes of indescribable goblins. |
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Please send this poem to ten relatives or friends, if you truly want your rights and liberty to defend.
If you don't pass this poem on, you may just someday find that democracy collapsed because you were selfish and unkind.
Please use the “Share” feature if and when you do it. You have to make an account, but otherwise my referral token doesn’t accrue it.
There’s also a donation link, but that’s not what this is about! |
This song is to be sung by all ten friends of all ten friends of all, for this song protects the source of all good things for all.
Upon those who fail to record it, the onus of blame for all our deaths awarded.
Also please give me money, this shit isn’t free. Indigenous theatre is hard with ADHD.
But always remember, when you make a donation: This is about saving our great nation! |
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[Addendum c. 2047 from author’s deathbed]
O fallen Dump, deceased ex-president, I add this eulogy for your death is exigent:
You lived a long life, that much is true, but you had to live it with my tongue out at you.
In your golden pyramid palace on a planet of your own, but honestly, probably, deep down alone.
How ironic that you passed away sitting on the toilet. (Because I call you Dump, if you need me to spoil it.)
You might have thought yourself forever enthroned, But it was actually you, not me, who was owned.
At last you have done what we always wished you would: You finally freaking fricked off for good!!! |
(Crowd chants a slow dirge)
O fallen Dump, be-deaded ex-presinald, I say these words about your death in general:
You lived a long life, that much is true, But you had to live it with my tongue out at you.
(Crowd solemnly projects their tongues)
You may have a palace of of fine metals, but you are like a flower without any petals.
You died as most do, taking a huge shit, especially those suffering from ARFID.
This is nothing to laugh at, it’s entirely real, and the fact that you’re laughing makes me have a bad feel.
But anyway, Dump -- you died taking a Dump! Isn’t that hilarious? What a fucking chump!
At last you have done for us what we always wished you would: You finally freaking fricked off for good!!!
Frick off for good! I’d flip you off if I could! (Crowd chants this until they are driven into a frenzy, and tear the effigy of Presinald Dump limb from limb. Community Cuddle Puddle begins, with light refreshments provided.) |