The tweets were flying freely on the World Wide Web that day
From the Leader of the Free World, who never lacks for things to say:
“Death penalty for the terrorist who struck the city of New York!
Hillary’s so crooked! My tax plan’s gonna work!”
He catalogued his gripes and grudges, each and every one
As if to show off how much urgent business he was getting done.
(Just picture it: the sweaty smartphone gripped in tiny palm.)
“Whatever,” thought the nation. “At least he hasn’t launched the Bomb.”
Then, early evening Eastern Time, at a quarter to seven o’clock
Americans from sea to sea suffered quite a shock
For anyone who tried to check out POTUS missives they had missed
Were met with a simple message: “Sorry, that page doesn’t exist!”
What was it like, that silence? That blissful, peaceful sound
That fell on Earth like Christmas snow when POTUS’s tweets could not be found?
You know when you have tinnitus, and the ringing suddenly stops?
Or when the volume of your next-door neighbor’s party finally drops?
Or when a dog outside stops barking? Or a screaming baby falls asleep?
Or a car alarm stops honking and you’re so glad you want to weep?
Or an early-morning construction crew heeds your cease-and-desist letter?
It was like all of that at once, my friends—but way, way, way better.
What had happened? Who had done it, this heroic, sneaky deed?
Which man or woman boldly stepped up and satisfied the need
To briefly mute the White House? Who had seized the righteous power
To turn off the President’s whinging whining for a quarter of an hour?
At first, the company attributed the glitch to the error of a human,
But the act had been intentional; it took stealth, will power, acumen.
“A rogue employee!” tweeted POTUS, once his account had been restored;
(Just picture him offline in the West Wing: confused, irate, so bored.)
And, indeed, it seems for once that our POTUS spoke the truth
After a hasty investigation, Twitter confessed it had found proof
That a lone employee, on his or her last day on customer support
Had deliberately decided on one customer to thwart.
“This raises serious questions!” cried pundits everywhere.
“Hacking! National-security breach! We should all beware!
The Russians manipulated our election through social-media channels;
Are there more digital disasters yet to enter our American annals?”
And yet it must be said that no great damage has been done
But, rather, a service rendered, for which each and every one
Of us should thank that Twitter employee, that bold, anonymous hero
Who strode forward, and, with a click or two, took the fiddle away from Nero.
But what do we do now that the Tweeting President is back
Scrounging around the Web for brand-new enemies to attack?
Don’t despair, all you weary tweeters; stay strong and resolute.
For the power lies with each of us to block, report, and mute.