Well, it’s March Madness again, the best tournament in sports, the NCAA basketball tournament. As usual, Nostradamus knows who will win it all, and has known, in fact, for many years. Nostradamus has whispered the answers to verse-afire, and verse-afire now whispers them to you.

The first round play

Begins today

And 16 plays the 1

It isn’t fair

But I don’t care

I’ll watch it just for fun

Kentucky and Duke make the Sweet Sixteen

But then abruptly leave the scene

Georgetown beats Ohio State

And loses to Kansas in Final Eight

Pitt beats the ‘Cuse for the Final Four

And Villanova gets there one time more

It’s Villanova – West Virginny

And Kansas versus Pitt

And now the genuine top skinny

Get ready, this is it

Who is it plays to be the champs?

Kansas turns out Villanova’s lamps

The Belmont Club has an interesting post on the failure of teachers to actually teach and the failure of students to actually learn. Teachers unions will not permit the firing of bad teachers, and the standard tests mandated by the No Child Left Behind Act induces teachers and administrators at failing schools to fake the test data to make it appear they are in compliance. It would be nice if we could start over with eager little kids and non-union schoolmarms. Maybe then we could cut down on the number of high school graduates who can neither read nor write nor do simple arithmetic. 

I brought an apple every day

I tried so hard in every way

I read my lessons, learned them well

I evin treid to lern to spel

Arithmetic I couldn’t get

That’s why my mommy got upset

And history I always failed

Who cares when that Columbus sailed

My teacher gave us all a test

I failed it just like all the rest

But teacher gave us a good grade

No matter what we really made

I graduated top of class

Though not a subject did I pass

I think my childhood they did rob

Because I cannot get a job

President Obama addresses the White House press corps on his latest initiative to bring peace to the Middle East. When pressed, he admitted his policy consists of throwing our friends under the bus.

Throwing people under the bus?

Goodness gracious that’s not us

Although it’s true that we, by golly

Will throw our friends under the trolley

It’s all a matter of style, you see

A graceful act of civility

We’re noted for our kind attacks

That’s why we like those trolley tracks

Iran’s our bosom buddy now

So peace will come, we’ll show you how

We have a lot of friends to sell

We’ll give them Israel as well

They’ll have the bomb, but that’s all right

At least we all can sleep at night

Excuse me please, there goes the phone

What’s that you say, they’ve gone alone?

Teheran is gone, Damascus too?

Now ain’t that like a dirty Jew

They’ve gone without a nod from us

And threw us all under the bus

Experts say Drones are the future of war, and that many countries are building them in hopes that drones will mean they won’t need more conventional forces. But you will always need soldiers. 

There will always be soldiers and women who love them

Or is it the other way ‘round

A drone on the other hand flies high above them

While never contesting the ground

A drone has no wife nor a child nor a nation

No drone ever took a held hill

And while an armed drone can long loiter on station

It can’t liberate, never will

A man with a rifle or sword or an arrow

A man with the guts to go hard at the foe

Will walk a defended street darkling and narrow

Will carry the flag where a drone cannot go

Oh yes there are those who think soldiers not needed

That armies and navies and air are no more

But where that false doctrine of warfare is heeded

That country will find there is sorrow in store

Some of the best writing anywhere is on tombstones. Here are a couple from tombstones in old cemeteries.

Harry Edsel Smith of  Albany , New York: 
Born 1903–Died 1942. 
Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the 
car was on the way down. It was. 
===
In a Thurmont, Maryland, cemetery: 
Here lies an Atheist, 
all dressed up and 
no place to go.  
=== 
On the grave of Ezekial Aikle 
in East Dalhousie Cemetery, Nova Scotia:  
Here lies Ezekial Aikle, Age 102. Only The  Good Die Young.  
===  
In a  London, England cemetery:  
Here lies Ann Mann, who lived an old maid 
but died an old Mann.  Dec. 8, 1767  
===  
In a Ribbesford, England, cemetery:  
Anna Wallace  
The children of Israel wanted bread, 
and the Lord sent them manna. 
Clark Wallace wanted a wife, 
and the Devil sent him Anna.  
===
In a Ruidoso, New Mexico, cemetery:  
Here lies Johnny Yeast…. Pardon him for not rising.  
=== 
In a Uniontown,  Pennsylvania, cemetery:  
Here lies the body of Jonathan Blake.  
Stepped on the gas instead of the brake.  
=== 
In a Silver  City, Nevada, cemetery:  
Here lays The Kid.  
We planted him raw.  
He was quick on the trigger  
but slow on the draw.  
===
A lawyer’s epitaph in  England :  
Sir John Strange.  Here lies an honest lawyer,  
and that is Strange.  
===
John Penny’s epitaph in the Wimborne,  England, cemetery:  
Reader, if cash thou art in want of any,  
dig 6 feet deep and thou wilt find a Penny.  
===
In a cemetery in Hartscombe, England :  
On the 22nd of June, Jonathan Fiddle went  out of tune.
===
Anna Hopewell’s grave in Enosburg Falls, Vermont:  
Here lies the body of our Anna, 
done to death by a banana.  
It wasn’t the fruit that laid her low,  
but the skin of the thing that made her go.  
===
On a grave from the 1880s in Nantucket, Massachusetts :  
Under the sod and under the trees,  
lies the body of Jonathan Pease.  
He is not here, there’s only the pod. 
 Pease shelled out and went to God.  
===
In a cemetery in England:  
Remember man, as you walk by,  
as you are now, so once was I. 
As I am now, so shall you be.  
Remember this and follow me. 
 
To which someone replied by writing on the tombstone: 
 
To follow you, I’ll not consent.  
Until I know which way you went

A young Palestinian man named Mosab Hassan Yousef converted to Christianity and joined Shin Bet, the Israeli internal security arm. I have no problem with young Mosab converting to Christianity, but to give up one’s religion for another is one thing, to then work for the enemy is another. There is a difference between conversion and betrayal. If Mosab had converted to Christianity and declared himself ready to take the consequences, I would have applauded him; but to then work for Shin Bet, against his own people, no matter that I think the Israelis are in the right and the Palestinians in the wrong, leaves me with a queasy feeling.

Constantine betrayed his god

To follow the New Way

It worked out well for Constantine

We honor still today

Some others though did not do well

Betrayal did not pay

The thirty silver pieces did not

Keep the rope away

When General Arnold beat Burgoyne

On Saratoga plain

He left a foot upon the field

But died a traitor’s pain

Lord Haw Haw did as Hitler bade

He joined his broadcast staff

But when the British hanged him then

Lord Haw Haw did not laugh

No one likes a traitor and

Thus none will be surprised

That Mosab Hassan Yousef dead

Will leave this world despised

The turncoat knows he will be used

His new friends will not care

When Mosab Yousef’s sightless eyes

Behold the Judgment Chair

The Argentine government has again laid claim to the Falklands, and many believe they are preparing another military attempt at recovering what they consider theirs, the Malvinas, only this time against a much weaker Great Britain than in 1982. Confident of American support, the British were stunned when President Obama declared the United States was neutral in the dispute, particularly since the British establishment, to a man and woman, cheered wildly at the election of Obama. But they now find themselves conflicted. The idol has spat upon them, and they are as a consequence feeling the first faint pangs of remorse as Obama has shown every sign of abandoning the Special Relationship. Obama has clearly said to our oldest and most faithful ally, “It’s over, babe. I’m just not into you that much.”

For Brits remorse is setting in

They don’t know which is which

The guy they cheered for then to win

Has run them in the ditch

They thought that he was just like them

Cut in their liberal niche

But he’s not like your standard Dem

The mopey dopey rich

No, O is not your cup of tea

You will not like his pitch

He doesn’t like you, don’t you see

Remorse is such a bitch

Mark Steyn says financially failing Greece is like a canoe about to go over the falls, while the United States, though in financial difficulty, is far enough upstream to safely pull off to the shore. Instead, he says, Obama, and we, have decided that what we need to do is catch up to the Greek canoe. But be of good cheer. Drink another Dr, Pepper, sing another song. The falls are some distance away, time enough for yet another chorus of that old favorite, Ramona.

Lounging in the stern of the drifting canoe

The words came trilling from the dulcet voice

The ukulele chords rang sweet and true

As toward the falls they drifted quite by choice

Ramona, when day is done you’ll hear my call

Ramona, we’ll meet beside the waterfall

I dread the dawn when I awake and find you gone

Ramona…

American Digest banner –  “A poet more than thirty years old is simply an overgrown child.” – H. L. Mencken

Where did I put my tinkertoys

Who took my ball and glove

How dare I write of girls and boys

Too young to know of love

Throw out all your Rudyard Kiplings

That mildish childish man

Who wrote of war and Empire’d things

Insisting that you can

And what of songs that Tennyson sang

About fair Camelot

In words that down the ages rang

That will not be forgot

Of course I’m not a poet so

It’s all right if I rhyme

But if I’m just a child I know

I’ve been here a good long time

For many years we have been sending radio signals to the universe at large announcing, Here We Are, Come See Us! The assumption is that any interstellar travelers will be advanced liberal worlds that have foresworn violence and war, much like the liberals who run SETI, the Search for Extra-terrestrial Intelligence. I’m fairly certain those assumptions will prove incorrect should any space-faring people or beings accept our invitation to drop in. Non-aggressive types stay home; aggressive types roam the world or universe, taking what they need, taking what they want. When the winged ships come, they will not be bearing gifts. This planet’s history of what happens when a more advanced civilization meets a less advanced civilization has proved an unhappy one for the less advanced. And so it shall be when the winged ships come.

The mighty Zulu nation, mighty conqueror and king

Armed with amulet and spear and shield

When faced with British rifles and the discipline they bring

Were forced despite their bravery to yield

The Aztecs built their temples to their blood demanding gods

They held in thrall as slaves surrounding tribes

And then the winged ships came and young Cortes ‘gainst fearful odds

Demolished everything with Spanish jibes

Oh yes they had successes, Isandlwanda comes to mind

And Noche Triste cost the Spanish dear

But in the end the higher culture wins is what you’ll find

The verdict of our history is clear

So send your SETI memos out, announce your peaceful ways

But when the winged ships come don’t be surprised

When Cortes steps out of the ship that we’ve seen better days

And find that slaves was how that we were prized