Now, the verified Sneetches had checks of pure blue.
But the unverified Sneetches, they wanted checks too!
Those checks weren’t so big. They were really quite small
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all.

But you only had clout if you rocked a blue check,
And most Sneetches in Tweetland didn’t have that connect.

Then one day as the Twitterverse was tweeting and fave-ing,
And plotzing and cloxing and doxing and raving,
And wishing their accounts had the blue checks of the stars…
A stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars.

“My friends," he announced in a voice cocksure and keen,
“My name is Elon McMusky McPeen.
I’ve just purchased this site
For a cool 44 bill,
And I’ve got empty coffers that I must refill!”

“You know me from Tesla.
I got dumped by Grimes.
I’ve shot my wad into space
Many hundreds of times!”

“I work day and night, and I work at great speed.
My algorithm’s like a self-driving car: guaranteed!”

The Sneetches were worried for their online abode.
Would the new CEO cause the app to explode?

“Twitter shall be a town square where all can come preach!
I’m libertarian! I’m moderate! I’m pro- #FreedomOfSpeech.”

He invited back the worst of the formerly banned,
including the most hated guy in the land.

In response to Sneetch backlash, he threw up a poll:
“Should I resign?”
They said, “YES,”
He said, “Lollllll”

But he still needed money, so McPeen hatched a plan:
He’d sell status to every reply guy and stan.
He sent out a tweet to make his scheme known
As he thought to himself, it’s the ultimate p0wn:

“Now I’m focused on you, the fine Sneetches of Twitter.
Those without blue checks needn’t keep being bitter.
You want the perks that those verifieds hold oh so dear?
My twits, they’ll be yours for eighty-four bucks a year!
Just pay me your money and step right this way!
And you’ll have a Twitter Blue account on this very day.”

“Is this a joke?” Some Sneetches did whine,
“Why must we pay to be very online?
You should pay us, Mr. McMusky McPeen
For the content we churn out while glued to a screen!
We are your product, you mine us for data.
If you charge us a fee, we’ll say, ‘See ya later!’”

But McMusky mansplained over their plaintive lament,
Determined to get back the money he’d spent.
“I’m here to announce a brand-new regulation:
Only blue checks get two-step verification.”

So some Sneetches signed up and got monetized status.
They tweeted like mad, and warned others, “Don’t @ us!”
Then came the fake accounts, the bots, and the Nazis.
“Just growing pains,” said the unphased McMusky.

“Good grief!” groaned the original verified Sneetches.
“We’re still legit, those who bought checks are leeches!”

Meanwhile, McMusky just kept making weak jokes.
“Pelosi’s husband, attacked? That’s a classic lib hoax.”
“Whoa,” yelled the Sneeches, “That’s way out of line.”
But McMusky guffawed, “Hehehe 69!!!”

“And some personal news: I just did a thing.
I’ve found a new way to make Twitter cha-ching!
If you want your tweets dropped in the tab marked ‘For You,’
It’s time to subscribe to my dope Twitter Blue.”

“But wait!” Cried the users without a check mark,
“What will become of our well-crafted snark?
We’ll lose our followers! We’ll stop going viral!”
And thusly commenced a downward rage spiral.
For unverified Sneetches had hot takes too,
But McMusky just scoffed, “Sucks to be you.”

Then, of course from then on, as you probably guess,
Things really got into a horrible mess.
McPeen made a grand bazaar out of poor Twitter:
Freedom of speech went to the highest bidder.

The Sneetches decided it was time to take flight.
Screw it they said, let’s log off this hell site.
And so they joined hands—blue checks, no checks, whatever—
They yelled, “Thank you, McMusk, you brought us together!”

“Don’t go,” begged McMusky, “I’ve got more laughs for you!
The new logo’s that miffed-looking Shiba Inu!”

And that’s how it started, the Great Twitter Migration,
Some joined Mastodon, others just left for vacation.
And so Twitter ended, that once bustling place.
And as for me, my friends, I’ll be on MySpace.