Yearly Archives: 2012

The SS Thor Liberty

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A British registered but Danish owned ship named the SS Thor Liberty was detained in Finland after authorities there found 69 Patriot missiles in containers marked “Fireworks”. The ship was bound for China but the captain claimed the missiles were for South Korea, and a phone call to the German Defense Ministry confirmed the story. But is it true? Which is the cover story, missiles bound for China or bound for South Korea? Who knows. But the missiles were bound for somebody. Nonetheless it is good to see the old gods are not forgotten in these modern secular times. God knows we could use the old gods, the new ones having failed miserably.

 

 

It’s good to see that ships are still

Named after gods of old

For Thor is with us yet and will

Bestow upon us gold

But gold is found in many forms

In bullion and in cash

Or just perhaps in case of storms

A tidy missile stash

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Kicking The Can

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We should drill our own oil and get out of the Middle East and let them kill each other. In the meantime, though, Obama and the Dems and the lefty envirowhackos refuse to let us drill, so we are left with the worst of both worlds. In the meantime, the Washington Post urges President Obama to reconsider his policy of withdrawal and lean on Maliki in order to forestall a likely civil war in Iraq. Good luck. The Washington Post, of all people, should know by now that Obama has no intention of defending the interests of the United States.

 

 

Expecting Obieman to act

Is hoping for the dawn

To come before the setting sun

And darkest night is gone

The only work he’s ever known

Was organizing chumps

And making speeches for the Dems

While kissing left wing rumps

He got to be the president

By conning little girls

Into believing he would spend

Time kissing their soft curls

He doesn’t want to do a thing

But golf and be the man

And doing something means to him

Pick road and kick the can

So he will not do anything

To keep Iraq afloat

In fact he favors chaos so

He can make Bush the goat

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Kim Jong Un

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Many years ago Rudyard Kipling wrote a story about a boy named Kim, who wandered the vast and lovely land of India, observing, through Kipling’s eyes, the wonders of the country. The Kims of North Korea bear no resemblance to the boy of Kipling’s story. The North Korean Kims are a monstrous family, running the country as their private satrapy, enriching themselves in money and power at the expense of their impoverished countrymen. And now the third member of the Kim family has taken over the country on the demise of his father, as his father had taken over on the demise of the founding father, Kim Il Sung.  Kim Jong Un has some rather large murderous shoes to fill, but he seems determined to fill them, though the North Korean military may have something to say about the accession of a soft young boy to the heady throne of a murderous dictatorship.

 

 

Compared to his grandfather

This new Kim is but a stripling

A pudgy, girlish, dovish boy

Who’d have appalled R. Kipling

Yet who’s to say he won’t survive

Committing crimes so graphic

That none will dare to call him swish

Nor dare to call him Sapphic

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Kim Jong Il

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Kim Jong Il died a few weeks ago, and good riddance. He lived the palatial life of the sybarite, an unending supply of pretty young women, a mountain of exquisite food, a river of top drawer wine and Scotch whiskey, all while the people of North Korea starved to death. He lavished all the country’s money on himself and his military, sold nukes to anyone who would pay, and sent his agents to assassinate his enemies. He was not a nice man, and I will not mourn his passing.

 

 

De mortuis nil nisi bonum

In this case cannot apply

For the imps of Hell now own him

And his death won’t make me cry

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

The Magician

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We have a magician in the White House, a mesmerize, a sleight of hand artist. He is in the process of sawing the country in half, and the audience oohs and ahhs. Barack Obama is a ghostly figure, the product of the teachings of his Communist parents, and every move he makes, every word he utters, is designed to advance the dream of his parents that the United States be destroyed.

 

 

Borne by mist, ethereal

The drifting figure grins

By inner light the eyes see all to see

Transfigured, permanent, in place

As all about him spins

He knows just what he is, and what he’ll be

Cocooned in Marxist rhetoric

By parents in whose care

He grows into the child in whom they place

Their hopes for the destruction of

The State beyond repair

Their fortunes wrapped up in his handsome face

He had no great distinction

No accomplishment to date

When he became the darling of the Left

And women swooned to touch him

Though with much to indicate

That he was not accomplished, merely deft

On stage he was so brilliant

So accomplished, oh so cool

That no one saw the handlers in the wings

The lighting and the staging

Were enough to make a fool

Of all who would not see the puppet strings

And so he gained the mountain

Stood atop the world to find

That what his parents loathed lay at his feet

And dutiful a son he was

Attentive, warm and kind

So saying, our destruction’s near complete

The magi dons his makeup

Dons his tux and snaps his cuff

Top hat a rakish angle on his head

He enters from stage left and hopes

The mist is thick enough

To hide the fact the rabbit is now dead

Will the Pressmen ride to save him

Keep the show from going dark

Will the Occupys and Acorns save the day?

Or will hist’ry show November 2012

Will be the mark

That finally closed for good the Lefty play

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

  

 

 

 

Train Wreck

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The party’s over. The eighty year progressive/socialist era that began with FDR has run its course, and is now in the process of imploding as mounting and unsustainable debt runs Europe off the track, with the United States right behind. There is a violent train wreck just ahead, with economic reality and socialist dreams on the same track and traveling in opposite directions. Reminds me of the old story of the man, the trains and a little red wagon.

 

Standing at the crossing, a man saw two trains racing toward each other on the same track. Seeing a small boy in a little red wagon, the man raced down the street, grabbed the boy and the bright red wagon and raced back to the railroad crossing. “Sit here, son,” the man said breathlessly, “and in a minute there’s gonna be the gol-darndest train wreck you’ll ever see.”

 

 

A big eight wheeler running down the track

Coal smoke pouring out its fuming stack

The welfare system carried on its back

And time is running out

Pensioners are gonna tighten belts

Runs on banks before the money melts

Angry out-of-workers raising welts

On those who caused the rout

Times are changing for the statist crowd

Used up all the time they were allowed

All those things of which they were so proud

And now it’s down in flame

Back to drawing boards for welfare states

Time to clear the decks and wash the slates

Time to take the stuff from those ingrates

Who now say we’re to blame

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Bobby And Jack

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President Obama has so far shown a pronounced reluctance to fight, to stand up for American interests, and soon will face the most deadly crisis of all, a nuclear armed Iran. What will he do? Will he be John Kennedy, and act forcefully, or will he back down and grovel? Imagine the conversation between Jack and Bobby as they view the current occupant of the White House.

 

 

BOBBY: I think Iran is shaping up

To hit us good and hard

The problem is Obama has

Let down the country’s guard

 

JACK: It’s like the missiles, Bobby, when

I made that Khruschev blink

Eyeball to eyeball we went and

I told the Navy sink

The ships that carried missiles to

That island in the sun

They turned around and went back home

Would not stare down the gun

 

BOBBY: But that was then and this is now

Obama’s now in charge

I fear he’ll just equivocate

And tell the world at large

That we no longer have the will

To stand up for a fight

I greatly fear that he’ll back down

And not do what is right

 

JACK: It saddens me to think of what

Our party has become

Where once we had a Truman now

Obama sticks his thumb

Right up his ass and makes believe

He’s just as tough as nails

Yet when the merde hits the fan

The navy never sails

 

BOBBY: How did the country ever think

A man like that could lead

We see the future, Jack, and know

A coward can’t succeed

 

JACK: There’s still a chance, the future’s not

A record set in stone

The country has good men on call

And they are not alone

We will survive, we always have

We muddle through somehow

Survived some lousy presidents

Come on, let’s get some chow

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Slit My Wrists

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The evening news is very depressing. A super secret drone goes down in Iran and the president of the United States won’t allow the military to destroy it before the Iranians get to it and share its secrets with our enemies. The Pakis have closed the supply line to Afghanistan and say they’ll shoot down our planes and drones if we attack anyone inside Pakistan, the State Department won’t cut off aid to Pakistan despite them declaring us an enemy, and Chinese hackers steal our military secrets and we do nothing about it. If I had a box cutter I’d slit my wrists.

 

 

Events are such to make me weep

When I think what that little creep

Who sits now in that White House in DC

Has done to us and to our kids

He’s put the country on the skids

And begs for our lost drone on bended knee

From drones he won’t let be destroyed

To sending troops to be deployed

In Afghan mountains with no supply line

He says he’ll do as he will choose

His fleet of JU-52s

Will keep them well equipped and they’ll be fine

The Pakis say they’ll down our planes

And burn our tanker supply trains

And shoot our guys to bring on Allah’s ends

The State Department doesn’t care

They say to doubt them is unfair

We need to give them money ‘cause they’re friends

Hackers strike and Obie blinks

We know the hacking’s done by Chinks

They steal stuff and don’t care if we know how

They know that stealing has no risk

They smile when Obie whispers tsk

And laugh from Yinchuan to far Guangzhou

The tide is running ‘gainst us strong

It can’t go on, no not for long

It’s time we got some spine and balled our fists

Some more bad stuff like this today

And I can only hope and pray

That I won’t just go out and slit my wrists

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

Network Snakes

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Journalists, generally speaking, are snakes speaking with forked tongues. The media, by and large, is a handmaiden of the Democratic party, relating as news the lies and slanders of the Democrat talking points. They are taught how to be snakes in journalism schools, and those who learn well get well paying jobs with the national papers and television networks.

 

 

When graduating from a school

Of journalism now,

The graduate full knows just what it takes

To get ahead in the profession

 Profs have shown him how

To get along with all the other snakes

The snake takes all the facts at hand

And weighs them on his scales

And then with forked tongue smiles them off to us

Believing as he does that we

Will swallow all his tales

And join him as he throws us off the bus

The quarry in his eyesight is

Republican of course

The snake knows how to plant the story well

Insinuation, slander and

Of course the unnamed source

The snake has many stories he can tell

What we need is a mongoose

Who will shake the snake to death

Restoring fair and balance to the news

The time will come when this will happen

Just don’t hold your breath

The snake is wily and won’t change his views

 

See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

 

 

New Year’s Resolution 2012

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Much has been written lately about the danger from asteroids. Thousands of them apparently have designs on us, though few ever reach the ground. But those that do pose a definite danger to anyone standing right where they hit. Take the dinosaurs. They made no attempt to avoid the asteroid and look what happened to them. So my New Year’s resolution for 2012 is to avoid all asteroids.

 

 

Have you hoid

A little boid

Just whispered in my ear

That to avoid

An asteroid

Just be someplace not near

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE