Monthly Archives: August 2011

The South China Sea

The Chinese are busily building a blue water navy, their prize a refurbished old Soviet ski jump carrier, all to contest mastery of the South China Sea with the United States Navy. But it cannot be said often enough that a navy is not a collection of ships, a navy is tradition. If the Chinese navy sails to contest control of the Western Pacific it will very quickly be sent to the Chinese equivalent of Davey Jones’s locker.

The President, as we well note

Is not inclined to ponder

Those things that he knows not by rote

They cause his thoughts to wander

Yet things still happen even though

The prez is inattentive

As our decline goes fast from slow

And now seems non-preventive

But things will change November next

As adults get elected

And childish teleprompter text

Is gone as is expected

And then with adults back in charge

If China sails we’ll spot ‘em

And Chinese warships small and large

Will soon be on the bottom

See my novels and collected poems at Amazon HERE

Die Fahne Hoch

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Neo-nazi groups are raising their heads again, and not just in Germany, but in England and the rest of Europe as well. They may not fly the Nazi banner, and they may not sing The Horst Wessel Lied, but they are very unhappy with the soft lefty governments who are allowing the Muslims to take over their countries. The Horst Wessel Lied was formally called Die Fahne Hoch, (Raise The Flag). But whose flag? History does not repeat itself, but as Mark Twain famously said, it does rhyme.

For English folk

Die Fahne Hoch

Seems very out of fashion

But not at all

When red streets call

Some answer it with passion

With guns and knives

Their misspent lives

Are raised to honored glory

And we’ve all seen

That it will mean

The ending of the story

See my novels and collected poems at Amazon HERE

The World She Is A-changin’

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The World She Is A-changin’ When Washington finished his second term and went back to Mount Vernon instead of electing to become King as many implored him to do, King George, when he heard of it, said Washington was the greatest man of the age. We need men like Washington now, for the world she is a-changin’.

The world she is changing

We’re all rearranging

The deck chairs on this sinking ship

The Euro she wobbles

The Bundesbank bobbles

The ball and lets time slowly slip

The market is crashing

While pols are rehashing

Old nostrums that failed in the past

The Fed it is printing

The mints they are minting

The money that’s going so fast

The iceberg is gleaming

But we keep on steaming

On course ‘cause there’s no one on deck

The thing that all dreaded

Is where we are headed

And that’s toward one helluva wreck

Yet who are the leaders

To pick up the bleeders

And gather the blood stained old flag

Restoring the nation

To its proper station

Reversing its socialist jag

We need folks of vision

Who’ll act with precision

And lead us with a call to arms

The crisis diminished

Return, when they’ve finished

Like Washington, back to their farms

See my novels and collected poems at Amazon HERE

Home To Roost

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The financial markets are in a turmoil, and it looks like the Euro is about to be abandoned as a universal European currency, and perhaps a breakup of the Eurozone itself. The wages of sin is death, sayeth the book, and the wages of feckless socialist left wing governance is also coming home to roost, like stormy petrels skimming over the ocean ahead of the gathering storm.

When in Rome I did live as a Roman

Walked the streets in the near dusky gloamin’

Not a care as I walked by the fountain

Water fall from a far away mountain

Perfumed women seemed gliding on satin

As the summer night gave way to Matin

Is it gone, has it vanished forever

Is the bond market planning to sever

Humdrum days from the nights of full pleasure

If it is then one’s joys in full measure

Will be gone with the petrels a-homin’

As the arrow returns to the bowman

See my novels and collected poems at Amazon HERE

Perry

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A Gallup poll of Republicans and Republican leaning Independents, out Tuesday, August 24, shows Governor Perry of Texas taking a substantial lead in the Republican primary race for president. Rick Perry has thrown his cap into the ring, and overnight changed the dynamic of the Republican race. Pawlenty is out, Christie likes running New Jersey like Caesar Augustus, and the lesser lights are just in it for some face time. This puts Perry clearly at the top of the heap, unless another strong horse or two enters the race. And we all know who those stronger horses are.

I like Perry

He’s so very

Competent you know

A guy like Rick

Makes O the hick

In 12 he’ll steal the show

Unless of course

A stronger horse

A Rubio perhaps

That Palin girl

Might take a whirl

The ring is full of caps

Whoever runs

Of those big guns

Will in the White House be

As Marxist czars

Get in their cars

And By God we are free

See my novels and collected poems at Amsazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

The Ant And The Grasshopper

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The conservative members of the GOP, read Tea Party, understand that small victories lead to larger victories. In the battle with the president over raising the debt ceiling, thereby giving Obama another four trillion dollars to squander and put us deeper in debt and closer to edge of the cliff, the conservatives did not crumble, they held their ground, and they accomplished something. The public, and more importantly, independent voters, know who are the grasshoppers and who the ants.

Grasshoppers sure are cheerful fellows

They play all summer long

The ant, meanwhile, stores for the winter

They hear grasshopper’s song

And chide them for their leisured lifestyle

At which grasshoppers smirk

And tell the ants that only fools and

Ants do all the work

That’s where we are now in this country

With grasshoppers in charge

Believing summer’s never ending

And no debt is too large

But down below the grassy surface

The ants are stirring now

And taking aim at the grasshoppers

And pledging that their vow

Is smaller government that listens

To what the Founders said

And 2012 when new world glistens

The grasshopper is dead

See my novels and collected poems at Amazon HERE.

The Laughing Mob

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The American media is ecstatic. Obama has triumphed! Khaddafy is gone. But what is next? Will Libya become a Western style democracy or will it be taken over by radical Islam? To ask the question is to answer it. The only hope is that Libya becomes an Italian or French protectorate, and even then it is doubtful the Europeans will fight to retain power even if given. I see no happily ever after ending here. It is, we must remember, the Middle East, where cheering crowds and laughing mobs are instantly stilled. Of course, it isn’t over just because Obama says it’s over. Khaddafy may have a trick or two up his sleeve even yet. Stay tuned.

The cheering crowd, the laughing mob

How happy they all seem

Just look at me, I’ve done the job

It seems but just a dream

But cheering crowds bring in their wake

The stony, hard faced men

Who know the war was for their sake

And who will rule, and then

The flags are green, the crescent gold

The Prophet he has come

They’ll tell the mob do as you’re told

The game is zero sum

They’ll laugh and say that with the light

You’ll see what we have done

The world will see a fearsome sight

The Mahdi’s army won

See my science fiction novels at Amazon HERE.

A World War 2 Cat

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IBM is using a super-computer in an attempt to replicate the brain of a cat. Good luck with that. It’s gonna take more than a super-computer, no matter how many terabytes of memory, to duplicate the brain of a cat. During World War 2 someone had the bright idea of strapping a cat onto a bomb and dropping him from a bomber, under the theory that cats turn and twist in mid-air, landing on their feet, and so the cat would steer the bomb on its way down. Of course the cat did what any intelligent creature would have done being released at a couple of thousand feet in the air from a plane, strapped to a bomb. It promptly fainted. I talked to a descendant of that cat.

I was just a kit, just opened eyes

When grampa went to war

They took him high up in the skies

And dropped him through a door

Along the bottom of the plane

And he fell through the air

And died one hopes without much pain

Though no one seemed to care

But that was much too long ago

I said with wrinkled brow

For him to be your gramps you know

Its years from then to now

Well not my gramps like poppa’s pop

But grampa nonetheless

I tried to count but where to stop

He’s kin of mine I guess

He sobbed a sob and dried his eyes

He died for us he cried

Strapped to a bomb, dropped from the skies

And when he hit he died

But there’s no statue anywhere

No verse about him wrote

He died for us, he did his share

And when cats get the vote

We’ll have our own Mount Rushmore face

My grampa carved in stone

And cats can take our rightful place

And you won’t be alone

See my science fiction novel CHRYSALIS at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle.

The Climate God

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NASA satellites have recently collected real and reliable data on the upper atmosphere, and found, as anyone with a half working brain could have told them, that the computer models that predicted global warming were absolutely and completely wrong. The upper atmosphere was not holding heat in, as the global warming scam artists would have you believe, but allowing the heat to escape into outer space, thus proving once and for all that global warming is untrue. Not that it matters to the people who almost pulled off the greatest money making scam ever. It doesn’t matter what NASA says or what the satellites find. Global Warming is a religion, and its adherents will not be swayed by evidence that their god is dead.

The climate is changing, the science is done

Regardless of facts that it’s not

And even if proven we’re warmed by the sun