A law school grad recently complained that his alma mater, Northeastern University, lied to him about the job prospects for its law school grads. He says he cannot find work and has two hundred thousand dollars of student loan debt that he will never be able to repay, and is now on food stamps. The thought of it almost makes me cry

My life is set

I went in debt

Intentions good I had

To justice serve

And never swerve

I am a Law School grad

I thought I’d make

A hefty stake

A million dollar pad

By sucking blood

And mucking crud

I am a Law School grad

But now I find

Life is a grind

It makes me oh so mad

There are no jobs

It’s that guy Hobbes

I am a Law School grad

I live with gramps

I’m on food stamps

It’s gone to worse than bad

My life is gone

There is no dawn

I am a Law School grad

Samsung has announced a Smartphone app that will send out an SOS and summon help if you need it. The idea is simple. The Smartphone has GPS so it knows where you are at all times. In trouble? A press of a button and the police or ambulance crew knows exactly where you are. Sounds great. But if the cops know where you are because your Smartphone knows where you are, who else knows where you are? Do we really want everyone to know where we are at every moment of the day and night? Do we now live in the proverbial fishbowl? Will the ACLU save us from this invasion of privacy? And if they do, who will save us from the ACLU?

Does the ACLU think this app is a lark

If they do they will surely allow

A citizen periled to call a loud “Hark!”

From Nairobi to far off Palau

For as we all know it’s the ACLU

That always is on freedom’s side

Demanding that criminals pay what is due

And leaving them no place to hide

I fully expect that the crime stopper apps

Will be lauded and praised by the Dems

And profiling criminal types will, perhaps

Be one of our civil rights gems

I’m dreaming of course for the left never sleeps

They’re hearts bleed for all but a few

They’re always on sides with the perverts and creeps

Our guardians, the ACLU

In the 80s and 90s Western pundits declared Japan was the next great world economic power. That didn’t turn out so well, so now the pundits proclaim China to be the next great economic power. But there are serious cracks in the great Wall of China. An increasingly older population, vast numbers of single men who will never find a wife due to the Chinese one child per couple policy that has seen female infanticide rise to unheard of heights, and an increasingly fragile economy and banking system that is kept temporarily afloat by government secrecy. But economic reality cannot long be hidden, and when the truth comes out there will come the deluge. But China will survive. The current Communist government may not survive, but China will survive. As it always has.

Famine, flood and Genghis Khan

They all have come and gone

In China things are always dark

Yet always comes the dawn

It matters not the man in charge

For warlords have no name

The Kuomintang or Chairman Mao

The countryside’s the same

The peasant plows his scrap of land

No lord can he discern

His sons will honor him and their

Ancestors in their turn

Eternal as the land they till

As strong as mountains high

The Chinese peasant will prevail

The others flare and die

The Chinese Communist government has replaced one of their own, a man named Bo Xilai, who apparently has been running a Chinese money laundry, not to mention that his wife is accused of murdering a British businessman. But I think the last straw for the government mandarins was the sight of the former peasant Bo tooling around Beijing in his red Ferrari. When told by the White House mess steward there was no more Beaujolais, Obama said he and Michelle will miss them, they were a fun couple.

Bo Xilai and his lovely wife

Have taken in much laundry

That cost the Brit his very life

And now they’re in a quandary

For party leaders get upset

With guys who dip their fingers

Into the pot and so they get

A punishment that lingers

Who knows what dangers lay in store

For someone must have heard her

Relate how she’d settled the score

By doing that Brit’s murder

A lovely couple the Xilais

I’m sure she took much wooing

He bought a case of Beaujolais

And that was his undoing

Christianity is under attack in the West, and will disappear entirely, except for a few crazed cultists, within the next few generations, replaced by the Religion of the Leftist State. And make no mistake, Leftism is a religion, an ideology, having nothing to do with government and everything to do with power for the elite priesthood. And they mean to impose it on us by the sword of government, just as Constantine imposed Christianity on the people by the sword. And like Constantine they will be successful, and the new Vatican will be located in Washington DC.

Yes the Left is a religion

And it’s one that’s fair and just

And there’s nothing voluntary

You will join and that’s a must

There’s no praying there’s no singing

There’s redemption though for those

Who have sinned against the State by

Worshipping the god you chose

For there is no god but Power

In whose care we place our trust

He will teach us and corrupt us

You will love Him, that’s a must

Many on the Right tend to think the Left is always wrong, but that is not the case. The Left is always correct. It is judicial activism only on the rarer than rare occasion that a court strikes down a tiny portion of the Left agenda. Dissent is always the highest form of patriotism but only when it is the Left that is dissenting.

The Left sees in a different light

They say the Right is just plain mean

They want to loosen all that’s tight

Removing all that stands between

The barbarism that still lurks

In every Lefty heart and mind

They do whatever they think works

And tell you they are being kind

To Gaia we must show respect

And everything must be bright green

So what if the country is wrecked

What matters is that we are seen

As the conservers of the wild

The pristine beauty of the earth

For that is how the Left is styled

That is how they judge their worth

They’re always right, they’re never wrong

And even if they fail they’ve won

Just follow ye their siren song

And climb the heavens to the sun

In a deathbed confession book, Frank Sheeran, one time president of the Teamsters Union, admits to personally killing Hoffa and having the body cremated. The unusual aspect of the confession is that Sheeran confidently expects God to forgive him upon his making confession, and he will spend eternity in Heaven, enjoying even more benefits than he received as president of the Teamsters. But is saying I’m sorry enough to be forgiven for murder? If it is, then what kind of God do we have here?

Am I hearin’

Frankie Sheeran

Put Hoffa in the sod

Then on his knees

Said grant me please

An audience with God

And to His face

I’ll plead my case

For heaven I desire

And if they need

Someone to bleed

God know I am for hire

We all want to stay in the dream. This assumes we can leave the dream at will, which we cannot, because our waking life is the Dream, and sleeping dreams are dreams within the Waking Dream.  When the sleeping dream ends, we wake to the Waking Dream, which we follow until the Waking Dream ends.  It is the Easter season, and perhaps it’s time to ask if a certain event in Jerusalem some two thousand years ago was a sleeping dream or part of the Waking Dream.

For thousands of years dawn man worshipped the sun

And Baal and Zeus to name but two

They’d thousands of deities not just the one

That’s now the preponderant view

Could they have been wrong, Aristotle and those

Who worshipped a mountain borne god

Or men of the forests and wetlands who chose

To worship the trees and the sod

If he was the man, the Messiah to come

The man who determined our fate

Then why was he seen as a false god by some

As they set his crucify date

Why could he have not then climbed down from the cross

And bade all the Roman guards Go

And shown everyone who it was who was boss

Instead of a three day long show

He lay in his tomb for three days it is said

Then rose on a Sunday at dawn

Pretending the while that he was really dead

And waited till all then were gone

Ascending to heaven we’re told with straight face

He sat by his father’s gold throne

And promised us all if we lived in his grace

That paradise we would be shone

The question of course is was he really god

And different from all gods before

And if he were not then it really is odd

That he is the one men adore

And buildeth them temples and churches and schools

To honor the one they call Christ

Who suffered and bled for the wise and for fools

And died while the Roman guards diced

The Dream is reality, real is the Dream

We waken when our Dream is done

To live with our Father or so it would seem

Awakened by his only Son

In Washington, DC, Marion Barry, one of the filthiest politicians alive, is attempting to close down all the Asian restaurants because, so he says, they are dirty, and replace them with black run and owned restaurants. This is just another black power grab, with Asians the target, and all because Asians work hard and prosper, something American blacks like Marion Barry have not as yet leaned to do. And out of envy, guys like Marion Barry want to put them out of business, because their very existence in black neighborhoods reminds everyone that sometimes you have to work and not depend on the government to provide for your every need. It isn’t about dirty food. People ate dirty food for hundreds of thousands of years.

For hundreds of thousands of years then, me boy

We humans ate what lions left

And never a one with their food did they toy

Because the hyenas were deft

At grabbing the carrion right from the hands

Of people who tarried until

They found themselves fighting off wild dogs in bands

Competing for their daily fill

For thousands of years most had little to eat

They feasted on berries and roots

And then someone planted some grasses called wheat

And began dining while wearing suits

Then along came the tables and candles and such

White napkins and forks by the plates

And whipped cream and butter produced by the Dutch

And places where you’d take your dates

To dine on roast beef and a fine prime filet

With veggies and warm fresh baked bread

Washed down with a sparkling white wine or Rose

At outrageous prices a head

So eating bad food’s the historical norm

A mastodon dead in the grass

Or dining on pate and soup cold or warm

It always depends on your class

The Big Tent of the Democratic Party is dead.  The Left had a good long run, seventy years, the number that seems to be the maximum length of time anything can sustain itself, and the reason is that seventy years is the length of time it takes for those who bought into the institution or economic bubble or anything else for that matter, to die, and bring to an end the ideas that brought about the institution or bubble in the first place. And so the Leftist socialist utopia begun under FDR is at an end. Obama is the bookend to Franklin Roosevelt. The Big Socialist Tent’s seventy years are up, because nobody believes in what they’re selling any more.

At the edge of the fairgrounds

All tattered and torn

The mildewed old canvas

Sits sad and forlorn

Where once it stood proudly

The Midway’s grand prize

Fairgoers now see

It was nothing but lies

No longer the big top

No more the trapeze

No longer the clown car

No children to please

The circus is closing

It had a great run

But people stopped coming

It was no longer fun