General Discussion

There once was Jeffrey Epstein in a bind,
Whose messages, now freshly mined,
Said “Corner that rat—
He’ll bomb this or that,
And take half the globe down in kind.”

He texted in twenty-eighteen,
Of a leader unstable, unclean,
“Psychotic,” he’d say,
“If blocked in his way,
He’ll strike to create a war scene.”

Of Donald Trump he wrote with a sneer,
“When pressured, his judgment’s unclear;
If going down hard,
He’ll torch the whole yard,
And rally the crowd through their fear.”

“Corner a rat? Bad design.
It lashes with claws every time.
Best shift the terrain,
Start a foreign campaign,
And call it defending the line.”

So bombs might on Iran rain,
To pivot from scandal and pain;
A grand overseas fight
Makes critics take flight,
And buries domestic disdain.

Now ships in the gulf lie in smoke,
And tempers grow tight at the yoke;
With troops sent to fall,
No vote taken at all,
While Congress is left out the spoke.

Some soldiers laid under the sod,
More civilians scarred by the prod;
The region’s aflame,
Yet shrugs meet the blame—
“As death goes, that’s just how it’s trod.”

Epstein no prophet became,
Just versed in how ego plays game;
When pride’s under threat,
It doubles the bet,
And sets half the world up in flame.

© 2026 Glen Farber. All Rights Reserved.