Politics is a lot of flapdoodle with equal amounts flap and doodle.
Humanity’s inanity is gentrified by vanity.
A critique of you-not-me, has all the marks of malarkey.
Drivel, bull and balderdash, add gobbledygook, make hooey hash.
Collaboration is the whole kit and caboodle; flapdoodle is just the view from a single noodle.
Flap has the clap and needs to nap.
Claptrap is a petty satrap.
Infinite is guff, until it meets with quite enough.
Flap is storm surf, silence sets of glassy combers.