The State Department believes that if only we would destroy our nukes then everyone else would do the same, and furthermore, if anyone did not, and used a nuke, our science would know who did it. But what if the biggest, strongest scorpion in the world were to tell the other scorpions that he was cutting off his stinger, in the hope and belief that his brother scorpions would do the same, thereby ensuring peace among scorpions. Here’s the scene. The tiny flag identifies the scorpion as the US scorpion.  Standing quietly in the sand, surrounded on all sides by other scorpions, the US scorpion does not know if he will be attacked, but knows he will know as soon as the forensic experts complete their investigation, and so the US scorpion feels confident of his safety.

 

I offer you, O scorpions

He said, demeanor grave

Stability and friendship now

A new road we shall pave

The State Department has a plan

A roadmap if you will

That scorpions will surely find

Exciting and a thrill

The plan is simple, plainly so

Our nukes we will destroy

Defenseless then, we place our trust

That you will not deploy

Your own nukes but that you will see

That using this approach

We’ll all be safe as houses and

No rogue state will encroach

Upon the land and dignity

Of others in the group

And if they do our experts then

Will shortly have the poop

And fingers pointed by us all

The miscreant to shame

And you surviving scorpions

Will know just who’s to blame

 

 

On 20 July 1969, Apollo Astronaut Neil Armstrong became legend and passed into history, to be remembered for as long as man shall live. So historic was the moment that my wife and I woke up the kids and sat them down with us on the living room sofa, to watch, in grainy black and white, the first man to walk on the moon.

 

We Earthbound mortals, safe on shore

Watched signals from afar

Of men the world’s not seen before

Neil Armstrong raised the bar

The god Apollo had to smile

He knows what heroes are

And knowing, looked on all the while

Neil Armstrong raised the bar

 

You remember Julia, don’t you? Julia was the star of an Obama campaign ad who told the world she owed all she was and ever would be to Government. Public (Government) schools, college student loans, Pell grants, Government health care, a nice Government job, the whole nine yards. Julia was set for life, thanks to Government. I had forgotten all about her until, curiously enough, I met her in Walmart the other day, and she seemed sad. I asked what the problem was, and she said she had a dream that she was the last of her kind, and the very thought was enough to drive her to Walmart. She said

 

I dreamed I was the last to lead

A life I didn’t earn

A life of thoughtless effort and ennui

Where government met every need

A grant at every turn

An elegant French boyfriend named Henri

And in that dream a darkened cloud

Came down in floating mist

And covered all the earth in darkened storm

I was so scared I screamed out loud

As in the dream a fist

Smashed everything I owned in my old dorm

And there I was without degrees

Just cast out in the cold

Alone with not a Federal grant in sight

A world full of Simon Legrees

And I was getting old

I tell you it was just a horrid night

I walked for miles until I came

Upon a fearful wraith

Who looked at me with dark forbidding eyes

He smiled and said we’re both the same

For I too lacked the faith

To trust my brains and skills to win the prize

And now the world that we have built

Of government and sloth

Has crumbled into ruin and despair

You see me now just filled with guilt

Arrayed in foul sack cloth

Alone, dead to the world and none to care

And now the tumbrel comes for thee

For thou has eaten well

Of fruits belonging to the humble few

Who worked and slaved only to see

Elected imps of hell

Give all they sweated for to you and me

Come join me in my ill fit grave

We are, you see, the last

We squandered both our lives and now it’s done

We took whatever the State gave

We had a fine repast

But now it’s over, we’ve seen our last sun

She shook her head and gave a smile

Said it was but a dream

I’ve got a handsome Pell Grant in the works

Thanks to the State I’ve made my pile

I’ve licked up all the cream

And all the rest of you are just plain jerks

 

It’s a little know fact of history, but environmentalists almost nipped the game of baseball in the bud. The same people who today keep us from drilling for oil were then trying to keep us from drilling a three oh fastball into the corner. But Abner Doubleday was made of sterner stuff. He was a General in the Union Army, and if his boys wanted to play ball no copperhead environmentalist was going to prevent them from doing so. In a garage sale, Verse-afire has come upon a letter written by one Hiram Lambkin, president of the Environmental Society of Cooperstown, New York. The letter read as follows.

 

I tell you, Abner, this won’t do

Your game will harm a thing or two

Our forests are denuded now

So wooden bats we can’t allow

Removing grass for infields will

Reduce the food for horses till

They become scarce and that’s a fact

So playing ball’s a harmful act

The ball you say is horsehide too

So you can see with horses few

That making balls with scarce resource

Will lead to taking hides by force

Your uniforms are made of wool

And as we know the threads all pull

Resulting in more sheep to shear

And that will lead to what I fear

Is ecologically, alas

A drain upon our dwindling grass

Our corn is finite too as well

So all the popcorn you will sell

And peanuts yes and crackerjack

Will mean that all these things we’ll lack

With people singing Take Me Out

To The Ballgame with a shout

The strain on trolleys will be great

And then we’re in a sorry state

A girl’s game, Rounders, that’s the truth

Your game will lead to boys named Ruth

And if your game becomes a hit

We’ll soon have Mantle, Mays and Schmidt

No Abner this will never do

For all our sakes we order you

To listen to your betters, us

Your players will all spit and cuss

And Goddess Gaia will be pleased

When strain upon her Earth is eased

The Earth is finite in its yields

So we forbid these baseball fields

 

And as we know, the environmentalists were right. The horses are gone, the corner lots are filled with the ping of aluminum bats, woolen uniforms are no more, and nobody sings Take Me Out To The Ballgame anymore, except Harry Carey in the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley. Everybody else is at home watching on television,drinking beer and wondering what the heck happened to the Phillies.

 

The Obama administration is looking very much like the movie Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, with Joe Biden playing the part of Goofy, and Obama playing the part of Snow White. Obama, who once looked very much like Happy, but who now looks more like Grumpy, pumps up his inner circle with a rousing rendition of Heigh ho, Heigh ho, all the while smiling into a mirror and demanding to know if the polls say he is still the fairest in the land.

 

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

It’s off to work we go

We’ll smash the nuts

Who hate my guts

Heigh ho, Heigh ho Heigh ho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Our VPs got to go

I’ll find some gents

Who’ll make some sense

Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Our secrets we will show

We’ll make amends

And make new friends

Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heighho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Paul Ryan’s cruel we know

We’ll spread the dirt

And make him hurt

Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Mitt Romney’s made some dough

We’ll make it plain

It came from Bain

Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

The voters they all owe

Me four more years

Of smiles and ears

Heigh ho, Heigh ho, Heigh ho

Heigh ho, Heigh ho

 

The voice trails off as the dwarfs, led by Grumpy, enter the mine, to disappear forever from history and memory.

 

There are those who say that beauty, male and female, gives the possessor of that beauty a head start in the race of life. There are others who say that beauty and intellect are an unbeatable combination, that the possessors of beauty and intellect rule the world. And there are others who subscribe to the theory that beauty, intellect and grace in combination make the possessor godlike. Being possessed from birth of beauty, intellect and grace, I can say that those who say those things are wrong, at least in my case.

 

At birth the nurses squealed my name

At school the girls all swooned

My neighborhood huzzahed my fame

The crowds I drew ballooned

In high school I was head of class

Four touchdowns every game

The heart’s delight of every lass

A hero I became

In college I aced every course

A god’s four letter man

In every game I was a force

Each woman was a fan

I settled down and married well

Bright children, sweet and fair

But deep inside my life was hell

For no one seemed to care

That handsome is as handsome does

Or so the saying goes

Was handsome is as handsome was

In my case as my foes

The guys who envied me my charm

My intellect and grace

Rejoiced as I, now fallowed farm

Had lost my honored place

As handsomest in every room

As brightest of them all

And then to heighten all the gloom

My hair began to fall

As age crept in on silent feet

My paunch began to spread

By end of day now I was beat

And ready for my bed

It’s over now, the women’s cries

And adoration moans

No longer I the golden prize

Reduced to ancient bones

I sit at my computer now

And making matters worse

I spend my days watching the Dow

And writing silly verse

 

The age of Jules Verne is upon us. The sci-fi writers of the 50s and 60s understood that starships would be Navy ships. The only difference between water and air and deep space is the viscosity. Will we see space battleships propelled by giant photon catching sails and armed with smoothbore cannon firing computer directed solid shot for a kinetic kill? Or will we see sights undreamed of by our planet bound minds?

 

Galleons and frigates swif

Once ruled the rolling seas

To be replaced in time by ships

Who sailed where they may please

Whose clouds of canvas caught the lightest

Airs and drove her on

And gloried in the names they bore

Like Wasp and Oberon

To be in turn replaced by iron

And steam and hard Welsh coal

The Great White Fleet passed into fame

With oil run steel her foal

And there she stayed for many years

As ship borne flying fields

And Boomers cruising silently

With missiled mega-yields

Until with hardly blink of eye

The surface Navy rose

From watery depths to outer space

The path that History chose

What will she look like, this new ship?

What power drives her on?

But this we know, proud names they’ll bear

Like Wasp and Oberon

 

R and R, as we all know, stands for Rest and Relaxation. When people say they need some R and R they mean going on vacation and taking it easy. But that isn’t what R and R means now. Right now the country needs some real R and R, and that means Romney and Ryan.

 

What we need right now is not

Some Rest and Relaxation

We’ll rest and relax by the pool

When Mitt has saved the nation

By setting Paul to straighten out

The fiscal mess Obama

Has made off things that make us shout

We blame this on yo mama

And on your commie Kenyan dad

Who didn’t want you either

So go away you horrid man

So we can take a breather

Yes, R and R is nice at times

But resting isn’t tryin’

And relaxation waits ‘til we’ve

Elected Mitt and Ryan

 

The Muslim Brotherhood has effectively taken control of Egypt. President Morsi has removed the Generals from power and installed his own men. The Army is now in the hands General Sisi, a Muslim Brotherhood advocate. President Morsi now has power far beyond that which was wielded by Mubarak, for he is now in charge of writing the constitution and selecting the Supreme Court Council, and it is a given that the Egyptian constitution will be a Sharia enshrining document. There is no point in telling Obama and Hillary I told you so, because this outcome is what they wanted all along, at least to judge by the cooing from Washington to these dangerous developments.

 

As the MB takes Hill’s kissies

Egypt’s soldiers now are Sisi’s

Which is why the IDF now has a smile

And since Barack has no spine I

Think that we’ll soon see the Sinai

Be the road the IDF takes to the Nile

As the Islamists take over

Promising a life of clover

All the while forbidding girls to go to school

And the country falls to ruin

From the royal all ‘round screwin’

Up by Barack and his Sec of Stately fool

Not to worry they’re in duck mode

So they’ll send them by the truck load

Money that we taxpayers will gladly pay

Yes we know what Egypt’s doing

They are billing and they’re couping

But it all will end come this Election Day

 

In 2008 the women and grown children of this country elected, in their wisdom, a man totally unfit to be President of the United States. But that didn’t matter to the Obama girls and boys. He was black and he was cool, and if that isn’t enough qualification to be president than what is? And now, almost four years later, we find our leader is leading from behind, from behind all manner of things, from teleprompters to Hillary’s skirts. What the country wants and needs in the presidency is a warrior, someone who knows what is good for the country and will fight for it. Sadly, the only thing Obama fights for is the Marxist agenda he inherited from his mother and father.

 

Some warriors are reluctant

Some warriors quake with fear

While others get grim faces

As enemies draw near

Obama has it covered

He is three of a kind

He’s grim faced but reluctant

And leading from behind

Reluctant to take action

Inaction’s more his style

Grim faced with teleprompters

But fearful all the while

Of losing all his voters

He hates the thought of war

And hates to make decisions

But hates this country more

Celer silens mortalis

Is foreign to this guy

And quick, silent and deadly’s

Enough to make him cry