On orders from President Obama, the United States military launched the first raid on ISIS by Tomahawk missiles launched from destroyers in the Persian Gulf and Red Sea. The wire story carrying the details of the raid said the destroyers launched planes, the story obviously written by a twenty-something who knew nothing of destroyers or much of anything else. The USS Borie, DD 215, a World War 1 Clemson class four piper, rammed and sank U-405 during WW2 after engaging the U-Boat in a fire fight. She herself sank due to damage caused by the ramming. A friend and neighbor served on the Borie, and he would be pleased to know the DDs are still part of the action even though a DD is incapable of launching airplanes and it was only an Obama pinprick raid.

If George Bush was a big bully
Who hit hard and fast and quick
Then Obama’s war is fully
Nothing but a small pinprick
If we can believe the story
That destroyers launched some planes
Then the old four piper Borie
Resurrected her remains
And fitted with a flight deck
Launched air strikes round the clock
As part of Obie’s light peck
On some pesky ISIS flock
Of course there is no war on
So DDs launching planes
Allows Hussein to score on
The polls who’re showing gains
By enemies at home here
To whom he takes a stick
And lathered to a foam, dear
Delivers a pinprick

Virulent Islam is a pathogen, an infectious agent that brings disease upon everything it touches. We should have no mercy on a religion that demands of its adherents that they kill the infidel wherever and whenever they find him. We should have no mercy on those who saw the heads off bound and helpless live captives. We should have no mercy on people who use women and children as shields behind which to fight, people who pretend to be friend then kill you at first chance. Enough. They want to return to the eleventh century? Let’s send them there. Kill the jihadis and cordon off the rest of the Muslim world so that it can infect the civilized world no longer.

All right let’s do the math again
What will kill the pathogen?
Fire stops disease before it spreads
Islam is a host diseased
From the time the host was seized
Now it’s time for bullets in their heads
Kill them in the streets on sight
Kill them in their beds at night
Make them martyrs, make their women weep
Kill them all by land and air
Build a cordon sanitaire
Show them that the West is not asleep
Only when the deed is done
Only when there is no fun
In beheading bound up helpless men
Lay them rotting in the fields
And when the last jihadi yields
Shoot him twice then shoot him once again

Attorney General Eric Holder announced his retirement yesterday. Every Attorney General is a friend and colleague of the president who appoints him, a friend and colleague the president can rely on to promote the president’s agenda, so we can hardly blame Holder for inciting race riots and selling guns to Mexican drug runners. Nor should we hold it against him for praising Black Panthers for threatening Republican voters at the polls with knives and baseball bats, for he heeded always his master’s voice. And surely he has the right to view the white man guilty and the black man an innocent victim. And even before he became Obama’s race baiter in chief, did he not pardon the Puerto Rican murderers who killed a restaurant full of white people in order to help Hillary win a Senate seat? Eric Holder has always been the guy his handlers use for their advantage, the man to climb down into the sewers of politics and see that the stink stays there. Obama and Holder are cut from the same shoddy cloth, and while they deserve each other, we didn’t deserve either of them.

No AG has been bolder
Than little Eric Holder
In pushing civil rights right to the wall
He’s made the world much colder
To white folks he’s a scolder
And blames them for each black stumble and fall
He’s worse as he gets older
He thinks he is a molder
Of men but all he molds is moldy mold
Mold that fills each Justice folder
Kept for every office holder
Just in case they do not do what they’ve been told
Lady Liberty must hold her
Nose as little Eric sold her
Like he sold the guns to Mexican cartels
And when questioned he just told her
To pound sand because he polled her
And found no one cares so long’s he hides the smells

The president announced today that there was a new player in the terrorist business, an outfit called the Khorasan, which supposedly posed an imminent threat to the United States and the West. I found a tinfoil hat in the parking lot the other day, and when I put it on I was immediately convince that the first act of terror against the West by the Khorasan was the killing of Joan Rivers. A moment later, after adjusting the volume, it became clear Rivers was put away by someone in the White House. As the rays from the tinfoil hat penetrated ever deeper, I was struck by the significant coincidence that Joan Rivers died while undergoing a routine surgical procedure just a few days after she had stated, in a television interview, that everybody knows that Obama is gay and Michelle is a man. When I took off the tinfoil hat and tossed it my mind cleared and I was convinced that the Khorasan had nothing to do with the tragic death of Joan Rivers. But the White House, on the other hand….

When have we seen a first lady as tender
And loving as an eighteen wheeler fender
A president as lithe and fey and slender
The two of whom cry out who’s the transgender
Who is the tougher of this odd shaped pairing
Where neither seems to suit the clothes they’re wearing
Which of the two has more the manly bearing
Which would you think less likely to be daring
The question then is who ordered the killing
And who then acquiesced although unwilling
Who thought Joan River’s words were worth the stilling
Who answers to that question gets top billing
And so these mysteries both march together
First lady or the prez, the question’s whether
Would Rivers now be lying ‘neath the heather
If she had not said Michelle wore the leather

The once all-powerful West, the ruler of the world and inventor of science and technology, has elected to commit suicide by the simple process of not having babies. The fecund Muslims, invited into Europe by the native Europeans, will soon outnumber the native Europeans, and when the Muslims are the majority they will do what Muslims always do, enslave the inferior people and convert them to Islam at the point of the sword. The chivalry of Europe, who once rode roughshod over all who opposed them, is now reduced to feeble knights riding wooden horses. The gods of Valhalla have left, and the great glittering hall is now dark and empty. How Valhalla came to be a dark and empty hall, with only the snoring of Odin to break the silence, has never been told. Until now, in epic form, worthy of the sagas.

Fair Sigurd, knight of course
Sat on his wooden horse
And rode around in circles noon to noon
“My Liege!” he hoarsely cried
Each cycle of the ride
In time to a calliopetic tune
Distracting Odin so
He bade the knight to go
And solve the raging crisis to the south
The Falnir, monster like
Was heedless whom to strike
And lisping Odin bade him check each houth
Fair Sigurd then despaired
He said, My Liege I’m scared
The Falnir is quite dangerous forsooth
Much honor I would earn
But ‘tis young Freyr’s turn
To earn the skald’s sweet song and that’s the truth
Fierce Odin scowled and said
Too many soon be dead
Mount up, good man, upon your wooden steed
Today I count on you
Tomorrow I’ll send Tew
On Thorsday I’ll send Thor if there be need
Outside as it grew dark
The singing of the lark
Grew still and silence settled o’er the land
The Falnir, monster he
Took ease up in his tree
While down below brave Freyr took his stand
Meanwhile Valhalla slept
Valkyries silent crept
Into the rooms of knights who softly snored
Swords drawn and sharpened each
For every knight in reach
They rode their horses hard, dead knights aboard
For only but the brave
May enter god’s bright cave
And riding wooden horses will not do
Returned the knights to Earth
Reborn to vulgar birth
Valhalla emptied of the whole damn crew
And as old Odin slept
The wooden horses leapt
The music winding down with every turn
The gods have gone away
We miss them every day
They won’t be back no matter how we yearn

The results of the Scottish election are in and the Scots voted to stay in the United Kingdom, not surprising given that a bit less than fifty percent of all Scottish households are dependent on welfare checks from London. The Scots realized they were better off sucking on the teat, so the threat of secession was ultimately a hollow one. But what happens when the teat finally runs dry, as every socialist teat ultimately must? When the teat runs dry, when things get truly bad, it will be a different story – there will be no more sucking on the teat, as the productive kick the unproductive to the side of the road.

We all got the impression
The coming Scot secession
Would lead to worse as others followed suit
The Basques in Spain would follow
The Normans would leave hollow
A France that shrugged and gave Alsace the boot
A Germany that’s leery
Of Albert Einstein’s theory
That E might equal M times C then squared
Said you can have the Rhineland
For certain it’s not mein land
And anything that threatens makes us scared
In Brussels they were smiling
The Scots the Brits were riling
Whatever happened would not rock the boat
The money would be flowing
Up taxes would be going
The people on the teat would sell their vote
But then the teat ran dry and
The Left began to cry and
Bemoan the fact that some had had enough
The mommy state dismembered
As many still remembered
That when the going’s tough we need be tough
At home up in Seattle
Tin cups begin to rattle
Demanding that the government increase
All handouts in their power
Or yes within the hour
We’ll stamp our feet and give you no more peace
The Texans said We’re good and
We’ll follow General Hood and
We tell you all you lefties make us tarred
We’ll leave you to your fate and
We’ll have our nation state and
A flag that makes us proud though just one starred

The president is reluctant to use force against all enemies but Republicans. Putin spits in his face and he smiles and insists it’s rain. China claims the entire South China Sea, and Obama smiles and says that’s why it’s called the South China Sea. He bows to Muslim kings and says it’s the Christian thing to do. Maybe he enjoys getting pushed around. Maybe he likes getting beaten up. It isn’t that he needs to have his head examined, it’s that the American people do, for electing a coward, a fraud and a mountebank, not once but twice.

A man of deep reluctance
The president resists
The power of conductance
His office still insists
Resides in he who gathers
Sharp power in his hand
Despite his oft-spoke rathers
That we don’t understand
We’ve heard reluctant giants
Come to a sad, sad end
For all our vaunted science
The wealth we have to spend
Our posture is now foetal
We whimper in our chains
We beg, implore and wheedle
Dishonor but remains
Perhaps the end is nearing
As ending came to Rome
The muffled sounds we’re hearing
Are storm clouds near to home

The Left cares not for results, it cares only for power. What does it care that everywhere they govern, everything it touches, produces idleness and despair, poverty instead of wealth. Wealth is not the end product. Power and control is the end product. The Obama administration, having taken the country far down the socialist road, now is trying to foist their failed Obamacare off on the states, thereby enlisting the states in the process of destroying the country. Deviating socialism down by handing off the rotting garbage to the states is just another way of enabling the Left to control the healthcare industry by regulating what the states can and cannot do while pretending to stand aside. The American Left has always been with us but were fringe players until they captured the Democratic Party in the 70s, no doubt much to their surprise. History will look back and see that the success of the Nixon southern strategy, to turn the Democratic South into the Republican South resulted in a gaping conservative void in the Democratic Party, a void filled by sixties radicals who suddenly found themselves with actual political power, and it will be a long time removing them. Obamacare is here to stay, though not necessarily in its current form, for once something is given it is difficult to take it away. The Left is content to accept the occasional setback because they know the setbacks are temporary, they know they will prevail in the end, and they accept the possibility that they will rule over a catastrophe, but it is the ruling, not the catastrophe, that matters.

The human herd so slowly moves
Directionless it seems
But move it does and always proves
To be in time with dreams
Be it the dreams of angry men
Who wish to change the course
The herd will take but only when
He strides his snow white horse
But others dream large dreams as well
They talk of paradise
On Earth and slyly weave a spell
And thereby gain the prize
The herd reacts not to the dream
But to the dreamer’s lie
And though the end’s an anguished scream
The dream will never die

A mouth breathing liberal named Peter Beinart, writing in the Atlantic Monthly, defends the light of his life, the giver of all that is holy and wise, Barack Hussein Obama, from the critics who claim his policies are failing. Beinart and his liberal friends in the press insist that Obama is in complete charge, that his minimalist plans are so brilliant and nuanced that we rubes just don’t understand them. But we do understand them, and we do understand that Barack Obama is not the Sun God, the bringer of light, as the unjustified faith in Obama held by Peter Beinart and the hosts of the Sunday talk shows would have us believe.

The pander is a fine art
Indulged by such as Beinart
Who sees no wrong in little Barry O
Who’s swift in comprehension
No trace of false pretension
Who charges with the cry of “Tarry Ho!”
A fierce minimalism
Close to criminalism
The touching faith of Beinart and his like
Has led to fiercer fires
Described by O’s paid liars
As just a little ember not a spike
And so while O is thinking
The world around him’s sinking
But all is well, the right man’s at the wheel
The ship of state is steady
And when the O is ready
He’ll run the ship aground and break her keel

Major partners in the Obama coalition against ISIS, Turkey, Germany and Britain have said thanks but no. Among the Arab states only Saudi Arabia has said it will join up, and we all know just how much help to expect from that quarter. Will the USAF have the use of Saudi airbases? The use of Iraqi air bases? Turkish airbases? Diego Garcia? I spoke to high ranking members of the German, British, Saudi and Turkish governments and they told me in confidence that their governments are prepared to help to the fullest extent possible.

The German said that all the signs
Showed It’s but left to choose
Between the Bf 109s
And Ju 52s
A company of Volksturm gents
At ninety they’re still keen
And furthermore, it is my sense
A Type IX submarine
A Brit said they had none to go
The Black Watch was no more
The Coldstream Guards had voted no
To marching off to war
The Turk said that Obama’s words
Would strike a deeper chord
If he had said he’d bomb the Kurds
Of whom the Turks abhorred
A Saudi prince in lisping voice
Said they would bear the brunt
But given any other choice
Would not be at the front
And so it came to Uncle Sam
Alone, he doesn’t mind
He says that O’s not who I am
He’s leading from behind
And if he wants to weave and bob
Put my life on the line
I’ll just salute and do my job
And things will turn out fine
But he should know and you should know
Air power makes the sound
But for the ending of the show
It takes boots on the ground