The country once believed in real life heroes who stormed machine gun nests and took them. But no more. Oh, the country still has heroes who will storm machine gun nests, but they are not revered among the Leftists now running the country, any more than working men and women are held in much esteem by our self-styled elite Lefty leaders. It is said that 80% of the work is done by 20% of the people. That was always true and always will be true. And we twenty percenters are still here, maybe not heroes, but machine gun nests come in many guises.

I’m proud to say my working life
Was spent among the twenty
Percent of those who built the USA
We built the towers, laid the rails
That gave a life of plenty
To everyone who lives here yet today
We built the ships and built the planes
That guaranteed the freedom
Of millions whom we never even met
We didn’t care who they might be
Be tweedle-dee or dee-dum
And never thought to put them in our debt
But we’re still here and going strong
Though not among our leaders
Who seem to think that they’re the world’s elite
But you and I, we know full well
That they’re just bottom feeders
Without us working stiffs they’ve naught to eat
We need to understand that heroes
Are alive and kicking
Machine guns still are there and oiled and primed
We’ll take that nest again and smile
And come out safe and ticking
For everything is measured, weighed and timed
This too shall pass, the gauntlet run
So goes the ancient saying
Incompetents and harridans alike
Will slink away, the White House cleansed
They hear the bloodhounds baying
And very soon the midnight chimes will strike

The nation has elected a vampyre to the highest office in the land, a man who lives by magic and drinks the blood of our forefathers, intent only on draining the lifeblood from the country and throwing away the husk.

Mozart had his magic flute
And Jason had his fleece
Obama has his magic suit
Cleaned, pressed, with sharpened crease
The suit conceals the truth inside
Conceals the shadowed form
Conceals what O prefers to hide
That he is cold, not warm
There is no pulse, no beating heart
The magic does it all
He sleeps all day, light, sun depart
And wakens at the call
Of those like he he’ll rise and meet
And smell the nightshade bud
He’ll prowl the darkened narrow street
And drink the nation’s blood

Obama sits alone in the darkened Oval Office, contemplating his failures, wondering what will happen if he loses the Senate, loses the Middle East, loses the legacy he climbed so many mountains to attain.

Obama’s watermelons are
Reduced to size of grapes
Whatever Hussein touches turns to dust
Alone in Oval Office in
The dark with tight closed drapes
He wishes he still had that Churchill bust
To give him strength and character
And bloody sweat and tears
He knows himself to be a petty fraud
That he has been elected to
A post beyond his years
And now his troubles turn to the abroad
He sits there in the dark a don’t
Disturb sign on the door
The teleprompter silent by his side
And wonders if he’s Hamlet
Or by chance he be the Moor
And wonders why there’s not a place to hide
The world is coming down on him
And all his friends are gone
And all his wounds a running, bleeding sore
With sleepless nights he walks the halls
Until the break of dawn
And birds awake with cries of Nevermore
His legacy is gone in flames
As down comes everything
His brilliance and his policies have failed
Iran has won and now he knows
He never will be King
Despite the awesome heights that he has scaled

Philadelphia, Chestnut Street
A hot mid-summer day
A crier read in July heat
The words that showed the way
That men should hold till end of time
Their honor and their lives
In debt to freedom so sublime
That freedom’s gift survives
Travails and horror yet to fall
Upon this land so blest
And free men answer to the call
And honor never rest

Barack Hussein Obama’s actions over these past five years can be attributed to either of only two causes-incompetence or treason. We don’t know the answer to that question, not yet, but either way we lose, and so do the Muslims, who, if Barack Obama hands them the keys to the big black hearse, will not get to use them, but find themselves instead enveloped in a conflict they have no way of understanding, a conflict that will leave no Muslim city from Karachi to Mecca unobliterated.

Obama rode the wave of guilt
To be the very first
Half-black man thus elected to the post
Of president of these United States
And he’s the worst
Of anyone this country now can boast
He got the votes of women who
Did think him awfully cute
And votes from greens who knew he’s on their side
And lots of votes by fraud and theft
No longer in dispute
But credit him with no attempt to hide
His goal to change the country to
Reflect his fascist dream
Of rule by diktat not by rule of law
And here we are now five years in
And it would surely seem
That many voters wonder what they saw
But that was then and this is now
And so we pay the price
Of voting an incompetent to rule
The voters of this country closed
Their eyes and rolled the dice
And now we know those voters played the fool
But do we know if it is just
Incompetence or worse
That form the thoughts that clog Obama’s mind
Or has he from beginning planned
To drive that big black hearse
That takes us to his killer Muslim kind

John Kerry is now begging the Kurds to solve the Iraqi problem Barack Obama set in motion when he threw away the victory won by our troops before he was elected. John Kerry is the perfect fit for an Obama Secretary of State. He is intellectually challenged, but certain of his place in society, having twice married very rich women, outdoing his father, who only married one rich woman, thus setting son John a reachable goal. His father also set the standard for dissimulation so necessary in a Secretary of State by changing the Eastern European family name to Kerry when he arrived in Boston, to kerry favor with the local Irish. John learned well from his father, and the results are apparent to this day.

I‘ll say this much for Sec of State
Our little Johnny Kerry
He married well and married filthy rich
He made believe he was from Cork
Or maybe Londonderry
Rich women gave the poor man such an itch
When John Heintz died he left his widow
57 billion
Or was that just the sum of ketchup brands
He loved to windsurf but when riding
Horses he rode pillion
Rich women were just putty in his hands
So now he makes the rounds of countries
Cap in hand and begging
Like Oliver who wanted some more gruel
A comedown for the man who prized
His slim and handsome legging
I tell you folks this world can be so cruel

The Supreme Court today ruled that the arts and crafts company named Hobby Lobby did not have to provide contraceptives to its employees as mandated by Obamacare. I believe Hobby Lobby was wrongly decided. I believe Sandra Fluke and all other women who swoon over and voted for Barack Obama should be FORCED to take free contraceptives. I realize this would be a slow process, but eventually it would result in a higher IQ gene pool. We can identify these women by their posture. Any woman of child bearing age who leans left will receive, at no cost, an unlimited supply of candy kisses and birth control pills. As a fisherman I know the difference between a flounder and a fluke, and Sandra is a flounder. And yet, this decision could easily provoke unpregnant women who desire to remain in that condition to take to the streets and hang us unsuspecting oppressor males. 

The war on women, Lefties rage
Has entered a new phase
The Right has stirred a hornet’s nest of wrath
As angry women will engage
With those who cry who pays
What’s fair is that we take from those who hath
Yes history turns on little things
The snowball rolls downhill
As angry women storm the palace gates
And hang the noisome dukes and kings
And throttle men at will
Then wonder where to go to find their mates