Someone wrote a whole poem about that, in the style of Dr. Seuss (who the left says is racist)
The town was dull white
And its voters rust-red.
Its churches were backward
And families male-led.
So virtuous strangers
Who lived far away
Behind iron gates
Shouted, “Anchors aweigh!”
They sent boats crammed with strangers
Of alien tongue,
And curious customs,
To make Springfield young!
Recruited from shanties
And sprung out of jail
Unschooled in the basics …
These guests couldn’t fail!
Because each would bring with him
Irrefutable claims
On Christian compassion
That served pagan aims.
They were loaded with tax funds,
And freebies and goodies
To enrich our poor Rust Belt
With machetes and hoodies.
The mayor and governor
And factory barons
Cashed fat checks and signed on,
And so did the Karens!
And O how those Karens
Clucked and crowed with delight
At the chance to rebuke,
And reprove, and indict!
They practice-wagged fingers
And rehearsed epic rants.
And carefully ironed
Their boss-lady pants.
Soon the town was enriched
With new dozens each day
Who spoke, lived, and ate
In a real different way.
O how thrilling and noble,
Exciting and sexy!
The poor love-starved Karens
Neared apoplexy.
We know change is good
And “different” is better,
While “diverse” is the best.
It’s the only strength-getter!
There was only one fly
In this virtuous ointment.
Just one turd in the punchbowl
That caused disappointment.
The town was still stuffed
With “legacy” people
Obsolete rednecks,
Deplorable sheeple.
They didn’t all vanish
Or turn into Haitians.
Some showed up at meetings
And voiced their impatience.
“These people are eating our cats,”
Some did say.
“And beheading our geese
In a most gruesome way.
“They’re cashing fat checks
And slaughtering pigs.
When we grew up here
Springfield was nothing like this.”
The mayor and the Karens
Soon swung into action.
They cancelled the meetings
To halt such detraction.
They “fact-checked” the bigots,
Shamed those who dissented
With cool threats of hellfire
Pope Francis had lent them.
“If you won’t sit mum
As we slowly replace you
We’ll use all our mojo
To quickly disgrace you.
“We’ll label you bigots
And haters and racists
Who in Britain see prison
Taking cells from the rapists.
“We’ll spy on your churches,
And ban you from banking.
You will see how your betters
Deliver a spanking.
“We’ll rig all your votes,
Toss your Orange Man in jail,
Or find crazies to shoot him
If our judges all fail.”
But the stalwarts of Springfield
Black, white, and brown
Wouldn’t be buffaloed
Out of their town.
They kept on complaining
And soon people listened.
Not everyone’s scared
Of being imprisoned.
Not all politicians
Are afraid to dodge bullets.
Not all pastors are Karens,
Not all voters are helots.
And soon a loud rumble
Arose through our land,
As the quiet and humble
Made a do-or-die stand.
From city and prairie
From suburb and farm
A gathering chorus
Sounded like an alarm.
It couldn’t be silenced
It couldn’t be muted
It couldn’t even
Be prosecuted.
Once the good folk of Springfield
Had spoken up for us,
The words just emerged
As a national chorus:
“We will not eat grilled Haitian cat,
We won’t take off that MAGA hat.
We won’t be throttled by your gag
And we won’t let you burn our flag.
“We will not let you trans our kids
Or mandate what good God forbids.
We won’t let you start World War III.
And we will keep our country free.”
The mayor and governors
Bought pastors and Karens,
Censors and spooks,
And cheap labor barons
Blustered and sputtered
Slandered and cancelled
… Then folded, and cowered
Once they saw they’d be trampled.
A free nation emerged
From those poor kitties’ ashes
Not haunted by traitors
Or Deep State assassins.
And that country now proudly
Stokes up its grill
With burgers and hot dogs:
A city on a hill.
