A lady wore a jacket, on a ramp onto a plane;
Predictably, the media went instantly insane.
There arose at once amongst them, quite an angry cry and hue
“I really don’t care,” declared her jacket—then, it asked, “Do u?”
The spelling was lamentable, I’ll readily admit—
Yet clearly, it was not that flaw which sparked this hissy fit,
And protestations from the pros, who’ve learned to cry on cue.
And honestly, at this point, I really don’t care. Do u?
To their methods disingenuous, their malice most intense,
She responds simply with sartorial insouciance.
Though anything she says or does, they’re sure to misconstrue
The lady can still smile; she really doesn’t care. Do u?
When you’ve been labelled “-phobe” and “-ist,” and “f-bombed” countless times,
Been scorned and threatened, slandered and accused of awful crimes,
You might as well just tell them that that you’re rubber, and they’re glue.
Juvenile? Guess what? That’s right! I really don’t care….do u?
Photo credit: MANDEL NGAN/AFP/Getty Images