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That's noblegoldinvestments.com. Hey, you, have you checked your bucket list lately?

Are you ready to take care of item number seven?

Listening to the Eric Metaxa show?

Well, welcome, tune in, and then move on to item number eight, skydiving

with Chuck Schumer and AOC. Here now is Mr. Completed My Bucket List at age 12, Eric Mataxon.

Hey, folks, it's hour two on the Eric Mattaxas show. I promised that I would now do a dramatic

greeting of John Zemirak's poem. I will not eat grilled Haitian cats. This is, of course, an homage to Dr. Seuss. So, John, you're sure you want me to read it. You don't want to read it yourself. Yeah, I know. I want to hear your malicious Mediterranean voice.

Yes, so do I.

Okay, here it is.

Ready, folks, here's the poem title, I will not eat grilled Haitian cats by Johns Merak, with apologies to Dr. Zeus.

The town was dull white and its voters rust red. Its churches were backward and families male led.

So virtuous strangers who lived far away behind Iron Gates shouted, anchors away. They sent boats

crammed with strangers of alien tongue and curious customs to make Springfield young. Recruited from shanties and

sprung out of jail, unschooled in the basics, these guests couldn't fail, because each would

bring with him irrefutable claims on Christian compassion that served pagan aims. They were loaded with

tax funds and freebies and goodies to

enrich our poor rust belt with machetes and hoodies. The mayor and governor and factory barons

cashed fact checks and signed on, and so did the Karens. And oh, how those Karens clucked and

crowed with delight at the chance to rebuke and reprove and indict.

They practiced wagged fingers and rehearsed epic rants and carefully ironed their boss lady pants.

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