The Obama administration has the whiff of fascism about it; the enrichment of cronies, stolen elections, the harassment of political enemies, and control of the press, including secret searches of reporters’ phone logs and threats of jail. And now we know that everything we write, everything we say, and everything we think is known to the government. We have seen this all before, and we know how it ends: it ends with noble words above the gates.

How noble thy brow
The granite-like chin
The pose with the scowl
The elfin-like grin
The beautiful smile
The soft hooded eyes
The sharp fetid bile
The soft spoken lies
The lock out of place
The mustache trimmed neat
The contorted face
The blood in the street
You know me my friends
You see me in dreams
This is how it ends
This is what it seems

There is every indication that there is no one in the Obama administration who has ever told the truth. Ever. Fast and Furious. Eric Holder’s signature is on the authorization to declare a Fox reporter a criminal so they could secretly get his phone records; President Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton telling the world for over a week after the killing of Americans in Benghazi that they were killed because of a YouTube video, a lie they knew to be a lie because they made it up themselves in a phone conversation the night of the attack; the head of the IRS claiming she knew nothing of the IRS harassment of the Tea Party, when her fingerprints were all over it, and other examples too numerous to mention. I don’t say they have lied about everything their entire lives, but I do say everything they have said since they joined the Obama administration has been a lie

If truth be told, we often say
Observing not the doubt in play
If truth be told, the truth is rare
For fragile truth be held with care

I spoke to a liberal friend the other day and asked her if she still thought of Barack Obama as the most gorgeous of the gorgeous, the most saintly of the saintly, and she said she was of two minds about him.

Yes to me he was as gorgeous
As Cesare and the Borgias
While to others he was hellish
Not a little Machiavellish
But he won, that’s all that mattered
I care not for those he battered
For the law is not for winners
And the truth subject to spinners
I still cling to the illusion
Though admitting to confusion
Seeing now, with some contrition
He’s a scurvy politician
I am just so disappointed
That the One I thought anointed
Has turned out to be so ruthless
Ganging up on folks who’re toothless
I was filled with turtle doving
But I find he’s not for loving

A hundred and fifty years ago and more, a man wise in the ways of the world wrote that a democracy lasts only until the public discovers that their vote holds the key to the public treasury. They will vote for the candyman, he said, the man who will give them things for nothing, the man who will swing open the doors to the Treasury in return for their votes. But it can never last, he said sorrowfully.  The Treasury soon runs out of money, and the people who have become dependent upon the candyman for their very existence turn against him, and there are riots in the streets and the democracy inevitably becomes a dictatorship.

The Republic’s near death
Very near her last breath
Gut shot in the candyman’s lairs
He put on a disguise
And with candyman’s eyes
He smiled as he offered his wares
His smile promised the moon
And so then very soon
The people were dancing outside
The slick candy man’s store
Sick and begging for more
As our country went on her last ride
Yes the music still plays
As the Left counts the days
Till they bury the country once great
Now done in by the wiles
And the candyman’s smiles
Who now glories in our dying state