In Which I Rant At Flying Purple Republicrats

I'm really mad at both of you. Bad kids
Should be sent to the corner, but instead
You both continue with your childish bids
To capture my attention. Neither red
Nor blue am I, and this is largely 'cause
You neither of you come a wee bit close
To doing what you've said (to much applause),
And both of you should take a giant dose
Of STFU juice. And yet, I know
That nothing I say here or elsewhere will
Suspend or even slow the endless flow
Of histrionic emails. They won't kill
America, your foes across the aisle,
Without your help. I'll vote, but I won't smile.

BONUS SONNET: In Which I Consider Overstrained Emoticons

I look upon my keyboard's topmost row,
And what a strange assortment meets my eye!
A choice of numerals or marks that go
(For the most part) at the tail end of my
Long sentences -- or such was once the case
Ere email and its ilk came on the scene,
And people sought to make of them a face
To try push the words past what they mean
In dictionary senses: Sarcasm,
A gentle tease, confusion, any hue
That ears or body language could draw from
The spoken word, or eyes see as a clue
From handwriting or facial expression.
Emoticons, ubiquitous, have won.