The Associated Press has announced that it will be outsourcing content to leftist non-profit groups, including the George Soros backed Center for Public Integrity. The question is, will any readers recognize the difference between the new left-wing scribblings and the leftist stuff the Associated Press has been distributing under the guise of news for many years. 

The AP knows that guys like Soros

Are like the worm of Oroborous

Who swallow their own tails to circle fate

Who live for strife and confrontation

Whose only thrill and stimulation

Is seeing that their enemies deflate

The worm now sees that time is fleeting

That crises meant to keep hearts beating

Are running out of time and out of space

As mobs of grannies storm the barriers

Of Obie’s red flagged banner carriers

All shouting No! in Barbara Boxer’s face

And so the AP in extremis

Turns to Soros and their scheme is

Not to give us news that’s straight and true

But to show their liberal nation

They will keep us in our station

But what they surely know is they are through

Never let a crisis go to waste, even if you have to manufacture the crisis yourself. If your aim is to destroy an entire country and culture, best to do it while the iron is hot. And best to do it while the mainstream media is on your side, telling people what you want them to hear, what you want them to think. You are the Messiah, the Chosen One, the bringer of Light, and Hope and Change, the creator of a new age of perfection and enlightenment, a brilliant post-partisan, post-racial age, where the wolf and the sheep shall lie down together. And you, oh golden one, are the wolf. 

All hail the One, the Hope and Changer

Bestow upon him laurel wreaths

Accord to Him birth in a manger

Blessed be the air He breathes

Purple hemmed the robe He’s wearing

Golden sandals tread the floor

Ruby rings of worth past caring

Smiling smiles we all adore

Happy is the land He rules o’er

Happy are his subjects too

Happy teachers run His schools for

Happy children who on cue

Clap and sing we love each other

Clap and sing we love Barack

Clap and sing we love Big Brother

Never get our country back

Hail the One, the Hope and Changer

Bestow upon Him laurel wreaths

Clap and sing for there’s no danger

Blessed be the air He breathes

Bob Dylan, the legendary folk singer and writer, responsible for such hits as Blowin’ In The Wind, The Times They Are A’changin’, Rainy Day Women and more, was walking around the Jersey shore town of Long Branch the other evening in the driving rain, just whiling away the hours looking at houses until time to go on stage with Willie Nelson and John Mellencamp at the Lakewood Blueclaws baseball stadium, when a 24 year old female police officer, called by a resident who saw him in her backyard and thought he looked suspicious, asked him his name. The name Bob Dylan meant nothing to her, nor did it for a backup 25 year old male officer. Without ID, Dylan talked the police into taking him to the hotel where the tour was staying, where he was identified to the satisfaction of the police officers. My problem with this is not that young police officers did not know who a disheveled, rain-soaked 68 year old folk singer was, but that he was asked for ID because the police said he was acting erratically. That alone should have convinced them he was telling the truth. How else would you expect Bob Dylan to act if not erratically?

I lived with them on Montague Street

He said to responding police

In a basement down the stairs

I will admit to some caprice

But puzzled someone cares

It’s pouring rain, the policeman said

You’re wandering about

You seem to have it in your head

That we your word do doubt

You say you are Bob Dylan who

Is with a touring band

Along with John and Willie too

All known throughout the land

I’ve heard the name Bob Dylan as

A boy I am afraid

And I recall my mother has

His records that she played

And you look nothing at all like

The album cover pics

And why would Dylan take a hike

In these New Jersey sticks?

I’ll sing a song, Bob Dylan said

To prove to you I’m real

All right, get in, and watch your head

The cop said, it’s a deal

And in the car Bob Dylan sang

About a man who sinned

With windows down the clear notes rang

A-blowin’ in the wind

And then he sang one for the cops

He said, this one’s for you

And fair among the falling drops

Came Tangled Up In Blue

Camille Paglia, in Salon, lists all of the stupidities, lies and general incompetence of Barack Obama, yet she still loves him. Why? The answer is she loves him not for what he has accomplished, but for what he is – a leftist like herself. Belonging to the same club is enough. Women in particular love Barack Obama because they see him as handsome, cool and caring. He cares about the things women care about, or they think he cares because he says he does. Soft things, emotional things, or at least emotional to women. The hard things, war and national defense, are not in the same emotional world as that populated by most women, who want someone to help them care for their children, someone to substitute for the dominant and, in their view, domineering male they would otherwise have to depend upon. Snug and warm in the cocoon of leftist thought and deed, women will not leave the nest, for that would isolate them from their leftist friends, and no one wants to be alone.

I love him so, she sighed and blushed

So handsome and so cool

No matter if our freedom’s crushed

And jackboot Nazis rule

I wouldn’t like to see them here

The Nazi thugs I mean

But things like that I never fear

With Barack on the scene

He loves us so, we love him back

He gives us such a thrill

I grieve to see the Right attack

His every little bill

Of course I think it likely that

We’ll change the country’s mind

About this little healthcare spat

And recognize how kind

Our president and Congress are

And how we need them so

And how we need to have a czar

For every little woe

That ill befalls us womenfolk

When facing life alone

And which is why we never joke

About the scary tone

That comes out of the White House now

And causes us some pain

But nonetheless I tell you how

We love our man Hussein

President Obama’s new Chief Diversity Officer of the Federal Communications Commission, Mark Lloyd, has called for private radio companies to pay licensing fees equal to their entire operating costs. Naturally, National Public Radio will not be required to pay this diversity licensing fee, since the entire purpose of this extortion is to drive conservative talk radio into extinction. President Obama insists he is not in favor of the Fairness Doctrine, known to all smirking liberals as the Favor Us Doctrine, yet appoints a man to oversee the diversity (read infusion of left wing views) of privately owned radio stations who is ferociously in favor of it. This is not double-speak, this is Obama-speak, which really is the same thing.

To ask the question why do Dems

Our freedoms like to crush

Is answered because we have gems

Like Hannity and Rush

And they have no one like the guys

And gals who’re on our side

And so to no one’s big surprise

They need to set aside

The Constitution’s guarantee

Of free speech for us all

By claiming that it isn’t free

If their side cannot call

Upon a host or two or more

Who can an audience hold

Who doesn’t make the listener snore

Who doesn’t leave them cold

They claim they simply can’t abide

Unfairness done to them

By having only on their side

The entire MSM

Recent reports of distracted drivers killing themselves and others because they were texting while driving underscore the necessity of having basic intelligence testing for drivers at regular intervals. If it were just a matter of nominating these people for the Darwin award for removing their DNA from the gene pool, that would be okay, but they tend to take others with them. Passing a  simple IQ test should be a requirement for obtaining a drivers license, with failure to achieve an acceptable IQ score reason for denying the license, or at the very least requiring the posting of an easily recognizable bumper sticker. There should be plenty of left over Obama stickers, and it may be the IQ test is unnecessary, an Obama sticker on the car in front of you sufficient warning of intellectual incapacity.    

It seems to me the deadly dance

Of texting while in drive

Is playing with the odds on chance

That you won’t be alive

To get a message back from whom

You sent the message to

For you in your vehicle tomb

Are slowly turning blue

Of course we know the IQ score

Of those who text en route

Is in the rank of fair to poor

And Democrat to boot

So blame it on yo lefty mama

When you’re a median jumper

We know you by your big Obama

Sticker on your bumper

In the Washington Post, Marxist professor Gregory Clark argues that the wages of unskilled workers have peaked, and that to keep social peace the government will have to tax the productive members of society to subsidize the unproductive. Isn’t this what we are doing now? Has Professor Clark not heard of the welfare check? The heart of his argument, however, is that the number of unskilled will continue to grow, and that, in his view, is both problem and opportunity; a problem in that there will be many millions of unproductive workers to feed, and an opportunity in that those millions of hungry mouths provide the opportunity to impose a Marxist solution. To people like Gregory Clark, The Communist Manifesto of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels is the solution to all our problems, no matter how disastrously wrong that manifesto has been in the past.

What the good professor doesn’t say is that the growth of uneducated unskilled workers is publicly unstated government policy, whereby a debased educational system and an immigration system that invites millions of uneducated and unskilled third world people into the country with promised and delivered benefits leads to a permanent underclass dependent upon the government hand that feeds them. This benevolent and beneficent hand, to which is attached the Democratic party, is thus, by the votes of these dependents, locked into eternal power, and with eternal power comes the ability to extend the hand or ball it into a fist.     

The muted songs of meadowlarks

Give way at dusk to firefly sparks

And deep in dark the tree frog sings hello

I lay inside my ten room shack

And thank the lord that Marx is back

So those above take care of us below

It’s not my fault these working hands

That gathered corn and shoveled sands

Are idle in this workless world of ours

Where unskilled workers such as I

Have not the chance to share the pie

And so I sit and stare at walls for hours

My wife and kids they do all right

The gummint check just came tonight

I figured out what’s best for me and mine

I’ve got the angles covered now

No more a life behind the plow

With Marx and angles we’ll be doing fine

Cuzbuzz has been following Hillary Clinton’s visit to Africa. (Just keep scrolling.) In Kinshasa, the Congo, she flew into a rage at a question about her husband, and in Nigeria she said the 2000 US presidential election was stolen. This is not her first display of incompetence for the job. We all remember her fabulously successful visit to Mexico City early on, when she visited the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a major Roman Catholic shrine. The story of the shrine is that in December, 1531, an Aztec convert name Juan Diego was visited on the road by the Virgin Mary and told to build a church on the site. The bishop demanded a miracle to prove his story, and the Virgin Mary caused Spanish roses to bloom. When Juan Diego handed the roses to the bishop, they fell from Diego’s apron, revealing an image of the Virgin Mary on the apron cloth. The cloth with the image is on display and the object of deep veneration. When shown the cloth she asked who painted it, and was told God painted it. She showed her core Bush hating beliefs in Niger, but at least that wasn’t quite as bad as the Russians, who recently concluded a gas agreement with the Nigerian government, promptly named the new company Nigergaz. Hillary Clinton is ignorant and churlish, her recent actions possibly understood as a reaction to her realization that she is Secretary of State in name only, dispatched to completely irrelevant parts of the world while the real work is done by others, further magnified by the realization that she was played by the Obama people in order to get her out of the way for 2012.

At the Shrine of Guadalupe now

Our Sec of State let out as how

The Virgin’s image was so nicely painted

When told that God had worked the brush

She had the grace to primly blush

Then saw the painter’s name and promptly fainted

It makes you wonder what she’ll do

When faced with other people who

Believe in God and other things she smirks at

She doesn’t seem to have much sense

Of how her act has consequence

For country and department that she works at

She snaps at question ‘bout her hub

Whose glowing press just seemed to rub

Her in the hardest place she had to scratch

She’s sent to places in the past

That State would surely think the last

Darn place on earth the Sec they would dispatch

  So now she’s really in a snit

She knows she’s truly out of it

The president and all his men have shown

That they have made her Sec State queen

To get her off the year 12 scene

And now her presidential chance has blown

Wired reports that a Mr. Peden, a schoolteacher, has redeveloped an abandoned Topeka, Kansas Cold War era Atlas intercontinental missile base into upscale housing, former missile silos once alive with men and hydrogen bomb tipped missiles now turned into comfy homes, with control rooms turned into Spiritual Rooms containing spiritual artifacts from around the globe. Word is the silo homes are selling briskly, especially to those who feel threatened by growing confrontations around the world.

I feel so safe when underground

Though it’s taken me a while-o

To get used to the lack of sound

In my new homey silo

Except at night in deepest dark

I seem to hear some ticking

And distantly a watch dog bark

And Geiger counters clicking

Along ‘bout dawn, say three or four

I sometimes hear a rumble

Like opening a far off door

And distant voices mumble

And in my dreams I see the keys

Slide firmly in position

And turn in twain with practiced ease

And then the shout, “Ignition!”

It’s then I wake up in a sweat

And thank the guys who manned it

And turned away the dire threat

In times that did demand it

I’m glad that Atlas played its part

In keeping us from frying

Thanks to the crews who from the start

Kept freedom’s flags a-flying

Obama says his health care plan offers a public option, whereby anyone who wishes to keep his current health care plan may do so. This is a Trojan horse, and everyone knows it. Barney Frank has stated publicly that the public option is a necessary first step toward a single payer system, the single payer, of course, being the government. The whole thing is a shadow play. Barney Frank knows, and we know, that the public option insurance companies will soon be driven out of the health care coverage business by a government run insurance company. The liberals are hoping to fool us with sweet-talking reasonableness, but we know them. They lurk in the shadows. They will never cease their attempts to turn the United States into their vision of utopia, a socialist state with them in charge. Only we can stop them.

In the shadows, in the dark

They lurk in hidden mist

They know that we’re the redneck mark

They know they’ve got the fist

And when by chance they’re in the light

And somehow truth they speak

We see at once that we were right

Their purpose is to sneak

Their socialist agenda on

Us unsuspecting slobs

Who will not know that freedom’s gone

Along with all our jobs

But 2010 will soon be here

And with it a new day

We’ll sweep the bastards never fear

And see them on their way