“We want to have the cleanest water on earth. And we want to have the cleanest air on earth. Remember —America — First. First —

Americans. The other nations, will follow. But first we’ll need to clean up my government. Let’s impeach, and remove me, first.”

“First things, first. Let’s impeach, and remove me, first. The other nations, will follow our lead. But first, we’ll need to clean up, our

national, government. Then consolidate the international governments into a single government international of ours.”

“Sometimes, Greta, those that rule, are unfit, patently, to do so. Take me; nothing less than an unbroken string of miracles marks a less

than honest, yet, stellar, trajectory. Our Creator, Greta, works, mysteriously. Let’s get me to resign. I’ll confess.”

“I’ll resign. And I’ll confess. And I’ll profess, also, a special knowledge. For I know how to turn the gist of dry prose, into soulful, poetry.

Poetry for the soul. Sometimes, Greta, those that rule are patently unfit, to do so. Take, for example … me.”

“I know how to turn the gist of dry prose into soulful poetry. Poetry for the soul. At times, those that rule over us are too patently

— unfit, to do so. Take me back, on warranty. In lieu of taking me back to the Maker — otherwise, honor … my warranty.”

“I’m sorry about what’s happening but Art has taught me how to turn dry prose into soulful poetry. Poetry — for our chicken — souls.

Those ruling over us are unfit. Alas, there’s no way to take us back to our Maker. Alas there’s no warranty, on our souls.”

“@GretaThunberg: Greta: Sorry about what’s happening. Art tho, has taught me how to pen prose into poetry. For chicken souls, poetry.

Alas, there’s no way to take us back, to our Maker. And, alas, there’s no warranty, on our souls. But we’ve got — poetry.”

“Greta: There’s no way to take those in need of repair of parts defective, back to our Maker. No warranty, on souls. But poetry lets

us be persuasive. And the writers and the marchers — together, may usher in, that way … a second … revolution, velvet.”

“It’s OK. It’s all about delay, anyway. Remember, the Alamo. Remember, the Muslins. And finally remember, I’ll probably be

resigning, anyway. Especially, if Bolton testifies. Poetry, Art has taught me, lets us be persuasive politically and diplomatically.”

“Ye heard it here first; on Arthur’s account; on Twitter. For it’s been on Twitter and on Art’s account that all the president’s men may

write. And we declare that Vlad and me and the rest of his guys have agreed to delay to later a threatening, Doomsday.”