Up in Smoke

GOP lights up Johnson over Capitol cigar smoking den closure

In the marbled halls of Capitol Hill,
Where power and privilege hold court at will,
GOP fat cats faced a bitter pill,
Their smoky sanctuary, a treasured nest,
Vanished like wisps, leaving them depressed.
.
Tom Cole, the maestro of the Rules Committee,
Held court in his hideaway, gritty and pretty.
Lawmakers gathered, cigars in hand,
Talking policy, forging deals, a merry band.
But fate intervened, a change of plan.
.
Cole rose to Appropriations, a new throne,
But his hideaway, he did not disown.
Kay Granger kept her lair, a gesture fair,
But cigar lovers were left in despair,
As Michael Burgess, the new chair, made it known.
.
The physician refused the smoking tradition,
Leaving Cole without a hideaway, a cruel condition.
Speaker Mike Johnson faced a crisis, a test,
His cohorts clamored, their voices distressed,
For a place to puff, to bond, to rest.
.
They yearned for the Speaker's Lobby, now gone,
Where once they smoked, a privilege withdrawn.
Nancy Pelosi, with her iron fist,
Banned smoking there, a decision they dismissed,
As a blow to their cherished tradition, a con.
.
Some eyed the balcony, a prime location,
Once in the hands of the Appropriations delegation.
But leadership staff, with their greedy claws,
Snatched it away, without a just cause,
Leaving cigar fans in frustration, a sensation.
.
They cried for mentorship, a place to learn,
Where young and old could bond and discern,
The secrets of the trade, the art of the deal,
But let's be real, it's just a smoky haze,
Where egos inflate and common sense decays,
And entitlement's stench, it does congeal.
.
Guy Reschenthaler, the Chief Deputy Whip,
Joked about a plan, a satirical quip.
"We'll smoke in Johnson's office," he did say,
"And bring the cigars, come what may,
Until Cole gets his hideaway, a smoking tip."
.
In this circus of fools, where grown men whimper,
Over breaking rules, their priorities simmer.
They cling to cigars, like life preservers,
While the nation crumbles, and sanity swerves.
Their judgment impaired, their vision dimmer.
.
In Swalwell’s eyes, this would be a farce,
A tale of privilege, entitlement, and sparse
Regard for the people they claim to serve,
While their priorities, so blatantly, swerve.
He'd skewer them with his wit, sharp and terse.
.
Oh, the tragedy of the lost cigar space,
A first-world problem, a disgrace to the human race.
While real issues fester and the nation yearns,
For leaders with vision, who can discern,
The true needs of the people, the battles to face.
.
Cole, ever the gentleman, offered his office,
A temporary solution, a smoking edifice.
But the cries for a permanent spot persist,
As lawmakers insist on their smoking tryst.
And so, the saga continues, a tragicomic twist.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​