It Ain’t Necessarily So

A social paradigm is the framework within which laws, thought and way of life is contained. People thought differently about a great many things a hundred years ago than do the people of today. A hundred years ago no one believed the government had a duty to care for the individual from cradle to the grave, but the people of this paradigm do. The current paradigm began with the collapse of the stock market in October 1929, ushering in the progressive paradigm that replaced the conservative paradigm that had lasted since the end of the Civil War. The new progressive paradigm was born in deep Depression, where the common theme was “Brother can youse paradigm.” I believe the progressive paradigm is due to be replaced, and the new paradigm may very well consist of a deep seated distrust of all authority, an attitude that It Ain’t Necessarily So.

We’re told the fierce Ebola will
Not ever reach these shores
That airport screening is so fine
They catch the smallest spores
And doubters of our wisdom are
Just hate filled right wing whores
But it ain’t necessarily so
We were told we’d keep our doctor
If we simply wanted to
And that Obamacare would help
Us all not just the few
And that we’d see great savings as
The health care bills came due
But it ain’t necessarily so
We’re told the world’s a peaceful place
Now that Obama’s here
That Muslim killers with big nukes
Is nothing we should fear
That open borders doesn’t draw
Third worlders far and near
But it ain’t necessarily so
And so the paradigm will shift
And things will turn around
Economies will stiffen and
The dollar will be sound
And all the things the Left has done
Will soon be underground
But that ain’t necessarily so

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Cruisin’ Down The River

A woman who had contact with Mr. Duncan, the Liberian Ebola victim who chose to die in Dallas rather than Monrovia, was discovered to be a passenger on a Carnival cruise line ship. The ship has been denied docking rights, and may be doomed to sail the seas forever, like the Flying Dutchman, very much like the country under the reign of the anointed Barack Obama. But everything is under control – Joe Biden’s chief of staff, a man with no medical experience whatever, has been appointed Ebola Czar, his qualifications for the post that he is part of the liberal Democrat hive, a loyal Obama apparatchik. But not to worry. We’re all on a cruise ship now.

Cruisin’ down the river
Sittin’ in the stern
She said she was his’n
And he said he was her’n
Thought they’d take vacation
Take a little cruise
Down that lonesome river
All their cares to lose
Man said to the captain
Sir, when can we dock
Captain said sir never
O has stopped the clock
All has been suspended
Till the Czar’s in place
On this endless river
At this fearsome pace
Racing to destruction
Passengers afeard
Like the Flying Dutchman
Till we’ve all been cleared
Many mornings later
Far far out to sea
Man says to the captain
Sickness seems to be
Raging through the cabins
Spreading far and wide
All are getting fearful
On this ‘ternal ride
On the ship Obama
Captain said to man
Locked up in your cabins
Is the master plan

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It turns out lemmings do not voluntarily go over the cliff. It has been revealed that the Disney documentary of years ago that showed the lemmings leaping off a cliff to their deaths was staged. The lemmings were brought to the cliff and placed on a turntable that flung them unwillingly off the cliff. A hundred years or so ago, while I was in the fifth grade, long before Walt Disney and his turntable, I became acquainted with the lemming myth, and being a fifth grader, believed every word of it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but people, like lemmings, do allow themselves to be led over the cliff, where they fall to their deaths still claiming allegiance to the guy who pushed them. These people are called Democrats.

They smile and twirl around like Peggy Fleming
And then over the cliff like any lemming
And as they fall they may be heard condemning
Our leaders past with woes completely stemming
From Georgie Bush’s hawing and his hemming
As all the Middle East reduced to fire
And little Georgie raised the Arab’s ire
Much worse than even by his inept sire
With wars of which he never seemed to tire
Till ended by a man we all admire
The world is much a far more peaceful place now
His policies are picking up the pace now
Obama sternly tells it face to face now
And the few foes we have all know the case now
Excuse me, but we’re leaping into space now
And so it goes, the Democratic Party
The cliffs are near and none want to be tardy
They sing and dance in voices gay and hearty
They think they have a permanent majarty
Over the cliff, the Democratic Party

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Tar Baby

Muslim violence and terror is not confined to Iraq and Syria, nor is the threat confined to the United States and other western countries. The Muslim terror stretches across Africa from Mali and Nigeria, to Algeria and Libya to Egypt and Gaza, to Yemen and Somalia, to Pakistan and Afghanistan and northern China. This is a war against the West wrapped up in a religious civil war between the Sunni and the Shia. Isis is a problem, al Qaeda is a problem, the Taliban are a problem, but we face far greater problems if we allow the Sunni monarchies of the Gulf to drag us into the civil war in an attempt to use the American military to save their worthless hides. We must not grab hold of the Sunni tar baby in the effort to reduce the threat from such as ISIS. We must specifically target ISIS and destroy them to show the rest of the bastards we can, but we should not, in the process, do to Assad what we did to Khadaffi. It is not our job to remove dictators. It is our job to kill Muslims who kill us.

How faint it seems, the stench of death
So very 
far away
As Muslims take the very breath
Of life from those whom they
Define as infidels who must
Be slain on God’s command
And rendered to unredeemed dust
To Allah’s fierce demand
A thousand years the Muslim wait
A thousand years and more
To strike for God and Caliphate
To bring the West to war
And they shall find that what they wish
Is not what they will get
When they become food for the fish
And see the crescent set
Another thousand years and more
As millions quickly die
They dared the western way of war
And now we say goodbye

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The Fragility Of Life

Life is fragile, and exits on its own timetable. The beauty of the rose is ephemeral, yet is reborn every Spring. The Mayfly dances for an hour and is gone, yet to the Mayfly the dance lasts a lifetime. The dinosaurs wandered the Earth for hundreds of millions of years, yet are gone, while Man has lived a tiny fraction of that time and believes he is immortal. The distant sound heard by all living things is the swishing of the scythe.

I believe that I’m included
In that group of simple men
Who believe they’re not deluded
By rank sophistry, but then
I look ‘round at all about me
Who think such as they can’t fail
And who listen not and doubt me
When I say that life is frail
Fossils show that life is given
Then is taken in its time
Civil life is often riven
Thrashing in a death throe mime
Life is rare in God’s great meeting
Of the chosen in His care
Life is good but oh so fleeting
One brief moment in the glare
Of the suns that light the heavens
Of the universe so vast
Life that is and was still leavens
Both the future and the past

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The Invisible Tree

The newest thing in the insane world of modern art is the invisible painting. A blank canvas by a celebrity fetches big money. Artists are getting their invisible paintings hung in galleries, and insist that just because there is nothing on the canvas doesn’t mean they haven’t put a lot of thought and work into it. The world is run on the invisible quantum. Is the quantum god? Is there such a thing as a quantum or a quark, or is it simply a convenient term for I don’t know why it works but it does? In such a world, is it truly inconceivable that someone would pay good money for an invisible painting of a tree?

I think that I shall never see
A thing as lovely as a tree
A tree whose leaves and branches seem
To lie beyond the edge of dream
The world a canvas blank and sere
Portraying that which is not here
The tree not seen, no leaf or bark
Content to sit beside the quark
And contemplate the men who dare
To say the lovely tree’s not there

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The Letter W

We all remember the Obama people moving into the White House on 20 January 2009 and removing the letter W from all the White House typewriters and keyboards, so filled with insane hatred for the previous president were they. I have no hatred for Obama and his people. Disgust and loathing yes, but not hatred. I would never remove all the Os from the office typewriters and keypads. And yet, the letter W to those people meant something. It isn’t until you put the letters together into words that they mean something more.

Why should the letter W
Trouble you
Why should the letters AR
Leave a scar
Why is the acronym ISIS
A crisis
Why are the letters OBAMA
A drama
Why is this president like no OTHER?
Well, put them all together they spell MOTHER

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The Turk

Sometime late in the eighteenth century a mechanical chessman was devised that could beat all comers. The mechanical Chess Master was called The Turk, and it wasn’t until almost a hundred years later that the secret of the Turk was revealed. The Turk was in fact a mechanical illusion that allowed the Turk, a human chess master, to hide inside and operate the machine. The Turk was an illusion. Most illusions are created to hide from us the illusion that we think of as reality Such are the political illusions people like Obama cast in order to get elected. There is, sadly, no escape from these illusions, and to think there is is an illusion. Every illusion has its Turk, for without the Turk the illusion is diffused, inchoate. The illusion requires a Turk to make the illusion real. The question in this case is, is Obama the Turk or the illusion?

It will not work
Without the Turk
Guiding the illusion
Sending probes
Into our lobes
Meant to cause confusion
Molding dreams
And shining beams
Of sunshine in profusion
To make us feel
Illusion’s real
By massive lie suffusion
But who then is
The hidden whiz
Who cast the O illusion
Who is the Turk
Who makes it work
Stay tuned for the conclusion

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A Simple Woman

A Spanish assistant nurse at Madrid’s La-Paz Carlos III hospital has died of Ebola contracted while caring for two Catholic medical missionary priests, members of the Hospital Order of San Juan de Dios, who had been repatriated to Spain after contracting Ebola in West Africa. We do not yet know her age or her name, but none of that matters, for in the end neither age nor name matters so much as what one does with one’s life.

She was just a simple woman
A simple nursing nun
Who cared for those in sickness
And now her work is done
She was just a simple woman
We do not yet know her name
To Christ her life devoted
And in the end He came

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The Man Behind The Curtain

A careful examination of the policies of the Obama administration since 20 January 2009 reveals an uncanny similarity of purpose, and that purpose is the debasement, disarmament and ultimate destruction of the United States in its current form, and replacing it with a blue model third world socialist state. To that end the Ebola outbreak in West Africa was seized upon as an opportunity, following the administration’s oft stated position that they would never let a crisis go to waste. No one needed to have helped Mr. Duncan get on an airplane for Dallas. All that was needed was to not prevent it. And who makes the call on when to allow and when to prevent? Why a certain Mr. Obama, the man behind the curtain. The Obamanoids cry it was just one man, it’s no big deal, but so is a tiny hole in a big ship no deal until it becomes one. One man infects four, those four infect sixteen, and so on in a deadly and unstoppable mathematical progression.

A tiny hole and we are sunken
And through that hole came Mr. Duncan
With infection and thematics
Constituting mathematics
That say clearly one infection
That on soberly reflection
Soon will turn into a number
That will not disturb the slumber
Of the hidden curtain master
Who will mumble sleep’ly “Faster”
Mathematical progressions
Make the fiercest of aggressions
Look like snails serenely racing
And not knowing what we’re facing
One thing above all is certain
There’s a man behind the curtain

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