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I don got nothing but terrible
reviews bruited about
dip pressing field day
me (Lothario wannabe) 
trumpeted execrable lout,
a garden variety baby

boomer father without doubt,
his own shameful paternal
shenanigans cavalierly he did flout
dwarfed teapot dome scandal,
thus one look no further,

or send out a scout
herewith infractions distilled,
though personally, I strongly advise
ye to go trout
fishing in America,

with a master bait
tour and/or subsist
on circa 1521 a.d. vintage date
diet of worms, well preserved
nearly five centuries

since team did excavate
cuz his narcissistic
propensity, brought fate
fool downfall wool find you
fist pumping imaginary pugilist great

reflexively recoil, at the ingrate
asper adultery, terrible
black barbs caused psyche dial late
bacchanalian debauchery,
marriage did mutilate

philandering prurient lechery,
et cetera (albeit kinky),
he did participate
heatedly enough to generate
electricity to induce perms

in every man, woman,
and child, or make poker straight
tightly coiled locks, whose weight,
sans comb bind
terms oven destined

with hot sizzling endeavor to find
my inner Elvis a vis with curled lip, 
and daily pelvic grind
tryst ting mounting with hind
quarters sighting derriere
rearing to groove while inclined

at a sixty nine degree angle hull lined
for maximum fair moan to get mined
licentious behavior spurred from celibate
marriage, hence call of the wild pined
tubby satiated, and

subsequently huss signed,
thus within web of treachery
"FAKE" Casanova did wind
up gaining independence as
a Norwegian bachelor farmer.

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