Â¡Hole mole! Chris Clarke has written me a corrido. It is, I believe, the world’s first and finest patrinarco-corrido.
Oh the sun it shines like oil upon the mole
And the dogs they beg and whine, they’re getting barky
And the sexist trolls are thicker than pozole
Everybody dance, and blame the patriarchy!
I’m sure yall’ll join me in urging Chris to quit his day job.