Richard Fernandez at the Belmont Club equates the President’s fight for socialized medicine with the comic song fight to the death between the Russian Hussar Ivan Skavinsky Skavar and the Turkish champion Abdul Abulbul Amir. The song is a putdown of the Russo-Turkish war of 1877, and is little heard or played today, and more’s the pity. Verse-afire has created an updated version, which we offer below. Click here to listen to the original 1927 version by Frank Crumit.

 

 

Miss Pelosi has said that she now has the votes

The Congress has moved very far

The Blue Dogs of course will be filled with remorse

Not so I. Skavinsky Skavar

 

For Ivan has teamed with the Democrat side

In spite of the disdainful sneer

From that bearded old man with the unnatural tan

His foeman Abulbul Amir

 

The House vote was close it came down in the end

To a Blue Dog from Tennessee bar

Who with faltering gait cast his vote very late

Hurried on by Skavinsky Skavar

 

It was then that the victors’ huzzahs turned to groans

As a fierce man tamped down the last cheer

And faced down the lout who had ended the bout

It was Abdul Abulbul Amir

 

The Sergeant-At-Arms cried his vote has been cast

It cannot be changed or denied

Then Ivan stepped in with a devilish grin

And strangled Abdul till he cried

 

They wrestled all night on the floor of the House

Pelosi first hung back in fear

Then with fierce flashing eyes she stabbed both of the thighs

Of Abdul Abulbul Amir

 

So the healthcare was passed by that one single vote

And the next day they named a new czar

Yes they plied him with wealth and they toasted the health

Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar

 

But the story’s not over there’s more still to come

It will shock you and call forth a tear

Of the terrible fate that befell the once great

Abdul Abulbul Amir

 

He ran for the Congress himself in the Fall

He canvassed his district by car

He arrived in DC quite embarrassed to see

Speaker Ivan Skavinsky Skavar

 

 

Strategypage reports the Russian navy has named its newest nuclear submarine after Saint Nicholas. Do Russian boomers now deliver toys instead of missiles? Do the missile warheads now contain candy and confetti instead of thermonuclear destruction? Has the bear gone all cuddly?

 

 

Once upon a midnight dreary

Conning tower wet and slick

Santa rested, sad and weary

Bundled up like old Saint Nick

Seas a-pitching, quite precarious

Sack askew, his step unsure

Reindeer smirking, how hilarious

Periscope a distant lure

“Hold on there, boys,” the old man cried

“I’ve barely time to have a look

Though goodness knows I’ve tried and tried

To find that gosh darn address book!

This sure ain’t no forsaken roof

I think we’re on a submarine

Just look about you for the proof

I’m getting soaked and getting mean”

For warmth the reindeer stamped their feet

And shivered lightly in the rain

For hours now they’d faced defeat

As Santa tried the hatch in vain

“I’ll get in now, and I do mean

I’ll get in now, by Jiminy!

The problem is, a submarine

Just doesn’t have a chiminy!

They need a house,” he cried aloud

His arms thrust upward to the sky

“A house of which they can be proud

The best that gold can freely buy!”

Up popped the hatch, up popped a head

“I surely know the very one!

There’s lots of room,” the stranger said

“And lots of early morning sun!”

“And who are you?” the old man asked

“And how did I get on this tub?”

“Why I’m the man who’s rightly tasked

To captain now this lovely sub

So come aboard, it’s Christmas Eve

The crew and I are waiting

We heard you land, could not believe

And started celebrating

Just follow me right down this hatch

Be careful with your prizes

I see your bag has quite a batch

Of wonderful surprises”

“Can Santa down a hatch go, boys?”

The old man asked his reindeer

“Is it fair wide for bags of toys

And Santa’s favorite, Cane beer?”

The reindeer pawed, their heads they shook

They didn’t know the answer

“Why don’t you just go have a look?”

Piped up the one named Dancer.

He did just fit, though it was snug

And clambered down the ladder

He gave his beard a gentle tug

And said, “It doesn’t matter

It’s Christmas Eve and every one

Is eager for some cheer

I’ve something for each mother’s son

Including some good beer”

Then through the missile room he stepped

Amid the crew’s hubbub

As Christmas morning slowly crept

And blessed their little sub

 

 

President Obama will address the nation’s schoolchildren today. Verse-afire has obtained an advance copy of the president’s address, which I now share with my readers. El Presidente For Life is keenly aware that the children of today will be voting for him tomorrow, as will, in time, their grand-children.

 

 

My children, firstly let me say

How pleased I am to be today

Addressing you, the future of our land

And I as president do ask

That you the future share the task

Of giving me the president a hand

In changing first our country’s face

By putting evil in its place

Those devils who would keep our people poor

The rich and even middle class

Who live in places where there’s grass

And will not see our healthcare is the cure

For all of us, both well and ill

And that is why I know you will

Inform on mom and dad and friends alike

Who might attempt by deed and word

To keep my truths from being heard

And if your mom gets jail you’ll get a bike

In closing let me say once more

That I will show you what’s in store

If all my plans to change the world fall flat

Your school will close, your dad will die

Your mom will leave without goodbye

And you’ll be all alone and that is that

 

 

The world is running on fumes. The wife of the new Japanese prime minister, Miyuki Hatoyama, claims she once traveled to Venus, was abducted by aliens on another occasion, and knew Tom Cruise in a previous life when Tom was Japanese. She makes her own clothes, and is apparently particularly proud of a nice little frock made from Hawaiian coffee sacks. In Britain, one Peter Bryan, a schizophrenic who was convicted of murdering a woman with a hammer, was released to the care of a social worker and allowed to live by himself in London, where he killed two more people and ate their brains. G. K. Chesterton said, “When people stop believing in God they don’t believe in nothing, they believe in anything.” People believe in UFOs, magic, oneworldism, multiculturalism, global warming, sea monsters, fairies, Hillary Clinton, time travel, Nostradamus, Barack Obama, ghosts, vampires and werewolves. We now live in a society that has rejected God for Nietzsche’s Madman.   

 

 

Being captured might be chilling

While to others could be thrilling

And especially if you get to meet Tom Cruise

Traveling from Earth to Venus

Is a little, just between us

Likely something that would make the evening news

The new Japanese first lady

Might not be Rosie O’Grady

But Kipling surely would have seen her through

But if it brings her happiness

To think Tom Cruise is Japiness

Then I think that there is nothing we should do

And as for the guy who eats brains of his victims

It is plain that social workers heed the dictums

Of people who know what to do with those

Who transgress the laws of nature with such crudity

Who think taking tops off heads is topless nudity

Who after dining lay them down in sweet repose

But God is dead or so says mein Herr Nietzsche

Not so! to Stonewall said our Barbara Frietchie

Our God’s alive and so’s our flag

And so’s Miyuki’s coffee sack rag

And damn it guys the whole world’s dandy peachy

 

  

We are inundated daily with exhortations by TV pitchmen to buy gold, buy gold against the threat of inflation, buy gold against the fall in the currency, buy gold because it’s the safe thing to do. Gold is now selling for about $1,000 per troy ounce, as opposed to its historic price of about $20 per troy ounce, a price that obtained from 1774 to 1930. President Roosevelt took the United States off the gold standard and the price after that was $35 per troy ounce until President Nixon allowed the price to be determined by the market. The best thing about gold, besides being a very useful industrial metal, is that the discovery of gold in the 19^th century in Canada, Australia, the United States, South Africa and Brazil brought vast numbers of people to areas of the world they would not ordinarily have ventured into, and stayed there, many of them, creating new towns that either grew into cities or vanished as soon as the gold ran out.

 

To anyone wishing to compare the cost of $1,000 gold to the price at any time in the past, click here. (H/T Canoneer #4, The Belmont Club). According to one measurement, Babe Ruth’s 1931 salary of $80,000 was worth, in today’s dollars, $1,000,000. By other measurements it was worth twice to three times that, depending upon which index you use. By this measure, $20 gold was worth, in today’s dollars, either $250, $500 or $750, again depending on the index used. Does that mean today’s gold is overpriced and the hucksters are taking advantage of the current economic climate? Maybe, but comparing the price that obtained from Roosevelt to Nixon, the 1933 price of $35 was worth, in today’s dollars, about $450, $900, and $1,350, depending on which index is used. Read the whole thing and you will be just as confused as I am.  In any event, whatever the cost, gold is not important in the long run. What matter if you die with gold but have lost your eternal soul.  

 

 

The mighty Croesus rubbed his hands

He had the gold he had the lands

He had it made despite the Persian threat

The oracle divinely said

An empire would soon be dead

Poor Croesus ended up with deep regret

For gold alone will not delay

Thy destiny for e’en a day

And those who think it will are soon dismayed

To find their gold is just a weight

Upon the soul as worthless freight

When God in all his glory is displayed

So search you rivers, creeks and fields

For autumn reds and aurum yields

If lucky you may find a grain or two

But gold lies not beneath the ground

The truest gold is surely found

Inside of God and deep inside inside of you

 

 

Within the past few days several striking events have taken place with regard to religion in America. The Obama administration cancelled an Air Force flyover at an event in Idaho called the God And Country Rally, because the name of the event had the word God in it. This despite the fact that the flyover had been performed for the past 42 consecutive years, regardless of political party in power. President Obama then held a televised address to extend best wishes to all Muslims in America on the occasion of Ramadan, an address in which he praised the Muslim religion of peace, describing how he himself participated in the Muslim rituals. And in a conference call to an assembly of religious leaders of all faiths, Obama exhorted them to support his health care plans as a moral obligation. It would seem the Obama administration is willing to play along with religion if it looks like there’s a political advantage in doing so. It would also seem the Obama administration is very friendly to Muslims while taking a dim view of God and Country.   

 

 

Obama’s faith is on display

He shows it in the manner

In which he says that we all may

Display the Muslim banner

But God forbid that Air Force jets

Show honor by our flyers

Reminding those who have regrets

For voting for these liars

That in November 2010

You’ll get another chance, sir

To run them out of town and then

That horrid boil we’ll lance, sir

The finish of Obama’s term

Will see him isolated

With impotence he’ll surely squirm

As his lame duck is plated

Then we’ll regain our country, pal

And we can stop our wailin’

As we vote in that strong, tough gal

The beauteous Sarah Palin

 

 

John Batchelor at The Daily Beast tells how Obama’s bullying Chief of Staff Rahm Emmanuel is single-handedly reviving the fumbling, bumbling near moribund GOP. And so, thanks to Rahm Emmanuel, the Obama hope and change socialist revolution has come to a grinding, pitiful halt. For which we can only exclaim, Thank You Rahm Emmanuel! On the other hand, Rahm is not as cold as his brother Ezekiel, whose plans for Obamacare call for rationed health care to be allotted to the young, while allowing the elderly to die, on the grounds that scarce health care should not be wasted on those who will die in a few years anyway. Makes sense in a cold, Marxist sort of way, but thanks to brother Rahm, brother Zeke’s and President Obama’s dream of scarce, rationed, government run socialized medicine will never come to pass.

 

 

Rahm started young, as with most guys

By pulling wings off little flies

It made him feel real good and strong and tough

He graduated then to girls

By pulling on their shiny curls

Until they screamed and cried out loud Enough!

In college he was quite the scream

The evil presence in the dream

Of everyone who came into his view

He organized a lefty crowd

And dared the rest to say out loud

That he and his were both a scurvy crew

He says that’s just Chicago’s way

And everyone just has to play

The game that is the only game in town

He plays it tough, he plays it cool

He knows the game’s a deadly duel

And winner gets acclaimed to great renown

In politics, the Rahm would smile

The gap is but a quarter mile

Between the guys like him and guys like us

And when he does his dirty stuff

But finds that someone’s called his bluff

He smiles and says it’s okay what’s the fuss

He has a brother name of Zeke

Who’s plans for us we’ve had a peek

Bro Zeke thinks healthcare’s for the young and strong

And if you’re getting up in years

And sickness brings its doleful tears

Zeke’s death panels will move you right along

So if it’s difference that you seek

Between the Rahm and brother Zeke

You only need to see what they propose

Rahm is looking after Rahm

While Zeke is looking for the calm

He gets by picking old folks to dispose

I say that Rahm is looking after Rahm

While Zeke is looking for the balm

That comes from putting old folks in repose

 

 

The Washington Post tells how Khalid Sheik Mohammed broke under interrogation and spilled the beans, going so far as to conduct terrorist tutorials for CIA intelligence officers, describing Al Qaeda methods, personnel and plans, the information provided keeping the United States safe from terrorist attack since September 11, 2001. This sort of thing is unacceptable to the American Left, as represented by the elected leadership of the Democratic party, who are preparing a witch hunt and show trials for the CIA officers who dared to do their duty, screaming all the while of torture and desecration of the good name of the United States. Waterboarding is not torture; pulling out fingernails with pliers is torture. Sleep deprivation is not torture. Tying someone to the rack and pulling him apart is torture. Drilling into teeth is torture. Sawing off someone’s head, as was done to Daniel Pearl by the good Khalid Sheik Mohammed, is torture. What the radical Left is doing to our country is torture, and the question is, will we recover?       

 

 

The shaken head, the small moué

The frown that says don’t do it

To waterboard means we are they

And we will live to rue it

So spake the left, those gentle souls

Who shake with firm conviction

That he who with the devil bowls

Is living life as fiction

No matter that the goodly sheikh

Was harmed not by the ‘boarding

The torture road will only make

His words not worth recording

With wroth filled eyes they shake their fists

And scream with indignation

And set about compiling lists

Of those who serve the nation

With boundless rage the lefty crowd

Sets out to hurt the good guys

They plan to leave no one uncowed

It doesn’t matter who dies

 

 

Kevin McKenny, in the Guardian, writes approvingly of the release by Scottish Justice Minister Kenny MacAskill of Libyan terrorist/murderer Abdelbaset Ali Mohmet al Magrahi, ascribing his release to compassion, but which we now know was a deal for Libyan oil. Magrahi and his Libyan accomplices in the Libyan Intelligence Services killed all 259 men, women and children on board Pan Am flight 103 that December night in 1988 over Lockerbie, Scotland, plus 11 Scottish civilians on the ground. Convicted by a Scottish court on 31 January 2001 and sentenced to life imprisonment, Magrahi was released on 20 August 2009, after serving almost 8 years and 7 months, approximately 3,125 days, or about 11.6 days in prison for each victim he murdered. German soldiers used to call the kilted Scotties “The Ladies From Hell”. Now they’re just ladies, feminized, emasculated, cynical, gutless men, willing to let a mass murderer go for thirty barrels of oil. Damn shame.  

 

 

If I were a wee Scottish bairn

And MacAskill were my daddy

I’d ask about that tiny cairn

That holds the tiny laddy

Who in an airplane with his mom

Was killed in our own Lockerbie

By killers with a Libyan bomb

And in what is a mockery

Is now set free by my own dad

Who says it was compassion

When what that killer should’ve had

Was a good stropping thrashin’

But all is well, so I have heard

Qaddafi’s oil is coming

And I’ve been told by wee small bird

That trade will soon be humming

So maybe things will turn out well

They say the killer’s dying

And everyone says what the hell

The guy will soon be frying

But those who say that don’t believe

There is a hell or heaven

And they of course will never grieve

For a little boy of seven