You wanna really know why I lost dis fight? Hey, I take full responsibility. But dat ain’t why I lost dis fight. Nah. It was a bunch of other people. Dey made me lose da fight.

First dere was my corner. A bunch of losers and I ain’t kiddin’. Dere was Bernie. A friggin’ socialist. Right dere in my corner. Every time I staggered back to the corner he wuz askin’ do I have good health insurance. I mean I got a broken nose and he’s tellin’ me I should be happy for Obamacare. One round he sez socialism woulda sent me to college fer free. He sez dat would have given me a few smarts. Smarts woulda kept me outa the stupid ring being beaten to a stupid pulp by dis stupid Trump guy.

Also it didn’t help havin’ dat Sgt. Comey in my corner neither. Well, he wuz in my corner one round. Den I seen him in the other guy’s corner next round. I kept wonderin’ if he wuz gonna run me in fer all dose petty crimes dey been accusin’ me of my entire boxing career. You know, all dem fixes. Hey, I tol’ ‘em. What difference does it make?

Like when my manager Donny Brazile tol’ me what the fight plan of my opponent wuz. Just for yer info it was to beat me stupid. Wit one fist after the other. His plan wuz to take me out. I shoulda paid more attention to him. Then it wouln’t have surprised me when he beat me stupid.

The Russians? Yeah, dat had somethin’ to do with me losin’. Da guy kept Russian across da ring at me. He kept Putin dat left hook on my jaw. I kept waitin’ fer a reset between rounds. But it didn’t come.

Yeah, sexism was in dere too. I mouthed off somethin’ about his mama. Her name is Laura. I wuz lookin’ fer somethin’ to rhyme wit it. You know, like Muhammed Ali and his poetry? Well deplorable sounded like a pretty cute rhyme. You know, Laura Deplora-ble. I guess dat didn’t help set da mood, y’know what I mean?

And dere was more sexism fer sure. Dem guys in my corner, dey kept tellin’ me I was punchin’ like a girl.

Xenophobia wuz another ting. I heard somebody in the crowd cry “Xenophobia!!!” What da hell is xenophobia, I wunnered. I wuz thinkin’ over dat question fer two rounds. During which time I got decked twice. Maybe dat’s a new punch, dat xenophobia.

And dat Miss Ogyny. She was at ringside givin’ me dirty looks. Wearin dat tee-shirt dat said Trump Whumps. Hey, can I help it things didn’t work out, Miss? And in twelve dates I never figured out the right way to say yer name. So sue me.

Dere was a lot of racism goin’ on too. Lemme correct dat. Dere was not enough of it. Accordin’ to my muddah. She tol’ me I shoulda raced on outa dat ring. And outa dat buildin’. Dat way it woulda been a split decision, she tol’ me. He hit, I split.

Da scorers got it wrong too. I got in more punches than he did. I shoulda won on points for punches. Jees, every time I hit da deck I musta pounded my fists into dat canvas fifty times.

And dat guy who beat me? He kept followin’ me around dat ring! Followin’ me! Hey, it wuz creepy. I felt like punchin’ him. Unfortunately dat feelin’ passed.

Dat’s why I lost. It wuzn’t my fault. Did you see the wings on dat guy? I tell ya, it was a fast right-wing conspiracy.

Maybe I’ll write a book about it. I know da title already. My first words to my trainer when dey woke me up. “Wha happen?”

From Tom…as in Morgan

You can write to Tom at tomasinmorgan@yahoo.com. You can read more of his writing at tomasinmorgan.com.