Marco Rubio is the new Republican Senator from Florida. Marco Rubio’s parents escaped their island home, communist Cuba, because they wanted to be free, and wanted their children to be free. Barack Obama left his island home, Hawaii and muslim Indonesia,  because his parents wanted him to change the United States form of government to communism. Marco Rubio and his parents embrace the very nature of the United States; freedom and opportunity. Barack Obama and his parents embrace the very nature of oppression; communism and rule by force. We shall see whose vision prevails.

 

 

One left his island home and all he knew

To come to taste the freedom that he craved

He came to love the old red, white and blue

‘Twas freedom and not gold the streets were paved

The other left his island home as well

And followed other stars to make his way

Red giants who had whispered, This is hell

We count on you to make it red some day

One left his home and gave his heart and soul

To his new home and made it better still

The other left his home with but one goal

To burn the shining city on the hill

 

 

The Euro is about to crash and burn, the EU is about to succumb to nationalism and power over-reach, and the Germans are just plain tired of German taxpayer money going to prop up countries where the people riot in the streets if they are asked to work two more years before they get their pensions. The whole European experiment in gargantuan socialism and rule by unelected fat cats sitting in Brussels is about to turn turtle, and is going down like an old battleship hit by four torpedoes. And when it does come apart and slides down to Davey Jones’s locker, the only ones standing will be the Germans, with the German Central Bank calling the shots for a shot down Europe. 

 

 

They’re in the throes

And down she goes

Just please don’t tell your kids

The Portugese

Go down with ease

They’re Greece-ing up the skids

They will not thank

The Deutschebank

For keeping them afloat

They’ll cry and bitch

The filthy rich

Just want their euro vote

The Deutsches Herr’n,

Just wait their turn

What they’ve been waiting for

For sixty years

They’ve shed the tears

And finally won the war

At Stalingrad

When things got bad

They said just wait once more

And all they lost

Will now be bossed

Yes they finally won the war

 

 

One of the more pressing questions of the day is, which was the more important discovery/invention, fire or the television remote control. Did hunter-gatherers huddle around the fire on the edge of the ice sheet dreaming of a future of ease and comfort, of flat screen televisions, of sit-coms and slanted news? There are people sitting around the virtual campfire today who will tell you the remote control has it all over fire for importance.

 

 

When hunters hunted

And gatherers gathered

Did they sit ‘round

With popcorn slathered

And peach ice cream

On sugar cones

Listening to

The Rolling Stones

The future but

A tiny glint

A long way from

The knapping flint

Or did they dream

Of better days

Of kinder climes

And kinder ways

Of radio

And sit-com shows

And Jerry Springer

Come to blows

With fires banked

Against the night

They slept

Awaiting the first light

Then up again

The morning news

The traffic guy

The weather blues

And so it went

From stone to bronze

Through Milton Berle

And on to Fonz

At last on stone

A chiseled quote

“It all sounds nice

But so remote”

 

 

 

The president, at the beginning of his tour of Asia, visited the great city of Mumbai, formerly known as Bombay, where he ensconced his massive entourage of thousands in two luxury hotels, reserving every room on every floor. The president and his clacque  then hied to Delhi where he visited the grave of Mahatma Ghandi, entering the memorial through a bombproof tunnel a half a mile long, built for the occasion by the United States military, no doubt as part of a shovel ready stimulus package. The president is spending a billion of our tax dollars on a ten day trip. Does he care that we are outraged that he is using the US Navy to take thousands of his friends on vacation at our expense? No he does not care. He likes zinging us. He likes giving us the finger. Will he change his tune now that the election has decimated his party? No he will not. Obama will not sing that tune. He has his own song. He is zingin’ in the reign.

 

I’m zinging in the reign

Though it’s raining in the Singh

What a glorious feeling

The wonders I bring

I lower the seas

I temper the breeze

I’m zinging in the reign

Yes we’re here in Mumbai

Just my dear wife and I

We’re just like most people

We like living high

Then we’ll visit a mosque

Tea at friendly kiosk

Just zinging in the reign

For just millions a day

We will laugh and we’ll play

‘Cause it isn’t our money

It’s not us who will pay

The Navy’s on hand

Just to see that we land

Just zinging in the reign

 

 

The sixties were the breeding ground for all the Lefty problems we are now facing. In 1960 the national Democratic party was more conservative than the Republican party of today. Harry Truman and John Kennedy were more conservative than Bus I and Bush II. But the sixties generation captured the Democratic party and turned it into the radical lefty party it is today. But they have had their run. Thanks to Obama, the public is awake at last to what they are, and what they intend. The Revolution to restore the American democracy has begun. The sixties are over. On election night the voters tossed them out, never to rise again.

 

 

Free love, drugs and pot

I liked it a lot

The sixties were lovely as sin

Of course in my case

They passed without trace

I was always outside looking in

We thought they looked neat

Mini-skirts on the street

Net stockings and makeup severe

As flower girls went

They all had the scent

Of unshowered pot smoke and beer

How little we knew

That their left point of view

Would one day put country in peril

We thought at the time

There’s no reason or rhyme

To think ill of that cute little girl

Yet pregnant they got

And gave birth to a lot

Of Alinskyite women and boys

Who looked to the left

And by sheer ballot theft

Started taking the country’s few joys

Away from the folks

And stealing their pokes

And turning us into Greece light

But now they are gone

And we have a new dawn

That began on that November night!

 

 

Great excitement! Mysterious contrail off the California coast. Was it a missile? If so, who fired it? No one knows. Some say, with great authority, that it was a jet contrail, that the perspective makes it look like something it isn’t. What the government is reluctant to say is that it was a missile, and that it was launched by submarine. But whose submarine? Verse-afire has its suspicions.

 

 

Yankee think we Charley Chan

No washee if no tickee

If you can do then so we can

We sneak up and be tricky

Our submarine he creep along

Until he see the U S

He laugh because he not belong

The gai jin he be clueless

He think the Chinese be the one

He think we be forgetting

We not forget, the Rising Sun

Be rising, not be setting

Oh yes, you bomb and paper sign

We bow and smile, it ended

But not for those who most condign

Not over, but suspended

And now we show what we can do

To land of milk and Fonda

We laugh as launch into the blue

The first one billionth Honda

 

 

The election is over, and the good guys won. Economic conservative Democrats are in open revolt against the Dem Progressive elites who have driven the party to the edge of the cliff, and Dem politicians in red states who adopted the fig leaf of opposition in principle to the Progressive agenda while voting for it were swept away. And good riddance.

 

 

They hid beneath the threadbare leaves of figs

They hunkered down in golden DC digs

With elephants now dancing merry jigs

Dem grins are now a frown

The left is screaming madly “We were right!”

The non-left Dems have given up the fight

The Dems were done after that lovely night

They’re all run out of town

A massacre is what we had in store

Past time the people evened up the score

Cry like the fearsome raven, “NEVERMORE!”

And kick them while they’re down

 

 

Socialism has bankrupted the first world, first in Europe and now in the United States, with the rest of the world being towed behind in the wreckage. The World Bank is now calling for a return to the gold standard, while Ben Bernanke, head of the Federal Reserve, has floated the insane proposition that inflation may be necessary to cure the debt crisis facing the United States. Others are looking for ways to implement a world wide currency regime, while others insist that certain countries, China for example, stop fooling around with its currency, giving them an advantage in world trade, and let the Chinese currency find its proper place in the currency markets. The argument does not seem to include the idea that market capitalism and a stable currency regime, ala Bretton Woods, might be the answer all are looking for.

 

 

The world once prospered well with Bretton Woods

Where wealth was made with manufactured goods

And money had an exchange rate that stood

On firmer ground than today’s ever could

To float a currency now seems insane

It leads to mercenaries out for gain

Where guys like Soros make the money dance

And buy the pols thus leaving naught to chance

A stable currency, not one that floats

A dream, for sanity has not the votes

 

 

The French riots over a two year increase in the retirement age seems to have blown itself out, though the symptoms remain. Europe, and not least the French, are resolved to ride their unsustainable socialist utopia into the ground, accepting the death of their societies rather than give up the government pensions and handouts they believe are their god given rights. What the French rioters did not understand is that the retirement age does not matter, what matters is that there be babies born who will one day work and pay the taxes that pay for the pensions they so ardently crave. And there are no babies being born in France or anywhere else in Europe, except muslim babies, and we all know how that is going to turn out.

 

 

They say fifty million Frenchmen can’t be wrong

If so then they’ll be right for just so long

New babies won’t be born short years from now

And lots of things will break, but not the bough

The pensioners will cry and count their francs

The  young will hit the streets and cry no thanks

The pendulum will swing its destined arc

And all it takes will be a tiny spark

The flames will spread to Brussels and beyond

As people realize that they’ve been conned

Old Europe will be gone without a trace

And something new and fierce will take its place

Sharia and the mosque will rule the land

As history and law all turn to sand

Today they riot stirred by pension fears

Tomorrow they’ll be shedding bitter tears

While fifty million Frenchmen can’t be wrong

The demographics say it won’t be long

 

 

The election is over and the Democrats have suffered a massive and historic defeat. The only Dems to survive were the old guard, the old bulls, the young Obama cadre wiped out. They gather now in groups, dejected and bewildered. How could the miracle worker have failed them? How could Barack, the lightworker, the messiah, have been so wrong? In WW2 the favorite song of the German soldier was Lili Marlene, and like the soldiers in the song who gathered by the barrack gate, Barack’s defeated army gathers by the Barack gate.

 

 

Underneath the lamppost

By the Barack gate

Stand defeated comrades

Saddened by their fate

Looking forlorn as they can be

Crying look

Just look at me

Without a job, Hussein

Eff you, Lili Hussein