Bill Nye suggests we tax the farts of cows.
Instead, we need to tax the farts of Shea.
Shea generates more gas in every way
Than any bovine beast. That’s how he wows
His crew of pathics and of vocal sows.
It’s the one game that he knows how to play:
Emit, emit, emit all through the day—
And with the scent thrill little Ches and Maos.
His vast, immobile bulk consumes, pollutes,
And then consumes yet more while poor brown folk
Around the world go hungry. To its roots,
The World Tree shudders. Shea cries: “Hey, I’m broke!
Send me cash for my flatulent pursuits!”
None of his suckers understands the joke.