The Washington Post reports a meeting was held in Washington recently at which representatives of the leading American newspapers lamented they did not know where the industry was going, beyond going down.  I think this is where they’re going.

Can you tell me where we’re going

Said inventor to the scribe

The scribe had not the knowing

But he thought the scribbler tribe

Had naught to fear from printing

Though he wished to make it clear

That while Gutenberg was hinting

That the death of scribes was near

It was time, he felt, that reason

Should prevail in such a case

And that printing, while in season

Would not scribblers jobs erase

Can you tell me where we’re going

Said the journalist to the blog

The blog had not the knowing

But it knew ‘twas just a cog

In a world wide web of knowledge

That is there in one big store

So a journalism college

Isn’t needed any more

And the Gutenberg invention

That put papers on the lawn

Faces daily intervention

And will soon in time be gone

Now what happens to the readers

All the kiddies, dads and mammys

Why they’ll simply have new leaders

Guys in bathrobes and pajammys

Secretary of Defense Gates, touring the Middle East, is assuring the Saudis and other allies that the Obama adinistration is not throwing them under the bus with the coming talks with Iran.  They are, curiously, unreassured.

Why should you worry, Gates said with a smile

We’re with you and always have been

Of course just because we’ve been friends for a while

Does not mean we think you are kin

The US is under new management now

We have an agenda or two

Don’t ask us the why or the when or the how

Don’t ask us if it includes you

We know what we’re doing, we know what we know

We know that Iran is a friend

So friendly we feel that our friendship must show

A regard for their nuclear end

We’ve outlawed the terror, it’s no longer here

Attacks are disasters man made

That being the case you have nothing to fear

You all have it made in the shade

Of course history shows that appeasements don’t work

That appeasers are seen to be weak

That sooner or later there’ll be a Dunkirk

And it’s happening now as we speak

Something’s fishy, people say
A slur to briny cousins
You don’t hear fish say that ‘bout us
Though reasons they have dozens
We treat them all about the same
With hook and net and trawler
We bait them with some eel or squid
And sometimes a night crawler
And all because they’re good to eat
Their taste is quite delicious
Salmon, trout or small mouth bass
Just show me where the fish is
They’re not as dumb as some do think
They talk and sing till late
Nearer My Cod To Thee is one
And another Kiss Me Skate
Come Joe Sardine In My Flying Machine
And the popular Am l Blue
I love to hear those good old songs
But I wish they’d sing something new