Limericks To Riddles Without Answers

A limerick last time, and now a riddle-me-this (it's an existential question):

What if you think you've hit bottom, but bottom is not within reach?

Most of you won't want to grapple (pun intended) with that.

See, we all think and hope and wish and pray that the botttomest we feel is the bottomest there is, and that we can overcome it and re-surface by those things: love, and hopes, and wishes, and prayers (and actions--I left that out) that we've always been told will allow us to recover and redeem ourselves.  As Aztec Two Step says "isn't it sweet to think so....?"

Apologies To Men From Nantucket.....

A clean limerick about a dirty guy:

For A Short-Fingered Vulgarian
 
There once was a family named Drumpf
Whose favorite word was "Harrumpf."
Changed the "D" to a "T"
Dropped the "F" completely
But Donnie's fingers are still little stumpfs.

Imagine what happens when I'm fully retired, gang.

Why D'You Always Pout, Donnie?

Serious apologies to Burt Bacharach and, especially, Hal David for this one.  And probably to my fellow U of Hartford alumnus Dionne Warwick, who had the first and best-known version of this song, to be sung to the tune of "Alfie."

Donnie

Why d'you always pout, Donnie?

Is it just the default face you give?

Why, you always pout 'cause you're so put out, Donnie.

Yet you take oodles more than you give.

You're not meant to be kind

You know only fools are kind, Donnie.

You're so wise 'cause you're always so cruel.

And if life belongs only to the rich, Donnie,

Those poor folks are just morons and fools.

As sure as you believe there's no Heaven above, Donnie,

It's 'cause there's so much more here:

Something your investors can believe in....

You don't believe in love, Donnie,

There is simply the Art Of The Deal.

Again please make us great, Donnie;

Without greatness we merely exist.

 No more second-rate Donnie

When you run let your pout lead the way.

Donnie, Donnie, no one really needs you today! 

Maybe you should listen to Dionne's version while you read this....

Trump l'oeil: What The Hell Are We Lookin' At?

Well, smoke (up various orifi) and mirrors (the better to adjust the Cheeto-fed squirrel on his pate), I suppose.  Trompe l'oeil is the painter's art meant to fool the eye, of course, to make the viewer unsure of what s/he is seeing, to give the illusion of substance and depth to what is actually a flat and essentially featureless space.  It's an artist's sleight-of-hand, as an election campaign is a politician's:  watch carefully, as my hand never leaves my arm.  On the other hand, watch your watch carefully, as it's likely to leave your wrist, or your pocket.  What a ship of state of affairs we've reached when Phineas T. Bluster may prove that you can fool enough of the people once upon a time to run a country aground on Ego Reef.  Ergo, Reefer may be the best coping mechanism for dealing with this bombastic, know-nothing ("I know more about ISIS than the generals," he has said.  Perhaps he meant Dollar General, General Mills, and General Chaos....) short-fingered vulgarian--ah, thank you SPY, we're forever in your debt.

Next: It's a pout time....