We have all seen the Western movies where the US Cavalry comes charging over the hill, all bugles and flags, to rescue the wagon train full of women and children from the thousands of hostile Indians attacking it. But before the charge the cavalry is proceeding at a more leisurely pace, not yet aware of the plight of the wagon train up ahead, riding along singing, spurs and bridles jingling, while in the background the studio orchestra plays The Garry Owen, the song of the US Cavalry. Few moviegoers recognize the music, but all have heard it many times, including Europeans, who have come to expect the US Cavalry to show up whenever and wherever needed. And they have. But this time it’s different. The US is not riding to the rescue of Ukraine, and we have told the Europeans that if Ukraine is to be rescued, it is European cavalry that will ride to the rescue. Obama is confident the EU cavalry is saddling up, but the EU cavalry is not quite so sure.

The cavalry’s coming, with music by Liszt
With banners and bugles ablaze
Aflame for the battle that’s not to be missed
Though they say it will take a few days
The horses you see have no saddles or shoes
They haven’t been used for some time
The unionized soldiers are waiting to choose
A horse on whose back they will climb
The lances are blunted no points on their tips
So sharpening them is a must
The depots are scattered, ‘twill take many trips
To find sabers not covered with rust
But we shall be there when the time comes to fight
With no single moment to waste
We know you’ll be waiting for us at first light
With confidence always misplaced

Barack Obama promised to fundamentally remake the United States, and he has done so. He has remade the United States in the image of failed European socialism, a broken, defanged and humiliated ex-superpower, all to the approval of the majority of those who now have the right to vote in a country they had no hand in building. This country was built on sweat and blood, and the past two generations have decided they prefer to live subservient lives as dutiful serfs, beholden to the government for their very existence. Barack Obama has done nothing he has not promised to do. Barack Obama is not to blame for any of this; we are to blame, for we have betrayed our fathers.

He has made the promise, he has made it plain
That he would remake us, that there would be pain
We gave him our freedom, and he took it all
In return he grants us, the right to recall
What it was we squandered, what we threw away
What our fathers fought for, in that bygone day
Twice now we have planted, power in his hand
Knowing what he stood for, knowing what he planned
Who of us can blame him, who can then deny
That we had grown tired of, mom and apple pie
Looked we did for someone, looked for good things free
Someone who would trade us, phones for liberty
Ancient Constitution, lawful written laws
Are to him as nothing, so much lacy gauze
Meant to do his bidding, bending to his will
Use them as his playthings, used to keep us still
Now a new beginning, now a new born State
Cry now if we want to, but it is too late
We who’ve had such freedom, bow now to a King
We’ve betrayed our fathers, and lost everything

Everybody thinks he’s smarter than the next guy, and sometimes they’re right. The professor thinks he smarter than his students, the students think they’re smarter than their parents, the poet thinks he’s smarter than the campesino, and the campesino thinks he’s smartest of them all. But mostly people are smarter in one thing but not as smart in other things, so it’s all a wash.

The poet knows not of the wild neutrino
That travels at the stately speed of light
A datum that astounds the campesino
Who asks if light’s so fast how come there’s night
To sculptors marble marks their lives as lithic
The painter lives for pigments and for tints
While I who thinks my life has been terrific
Remembers long times past but nothing since

A State Department spokeswoman was asked to name a significant action or initiative by Hillary Clinton while Secretary of State and was forced to admit that she knew of none. Hillary herself, when asked the same question, replied that she had, single handedly, saved the world several times, but could provide no details. Most of us remember Hillary Clinton as the woman who always wore a pink pantsuit just a bit too small to adequately contain the overly abundant gluteus maximus.

I saved the world, she gaily said
Though I cannot say just how
My travels through this troubled world
Have brought hopeful peace for now
I’ve done great things that even those
Who hate cannot now refute
Bestride the world, I did these things
In my little pink pantsuit

I spoke to my good friend Barack Hussein Obama the other day, and he seemed troubled. He said his love life was in ruins, and I said Michelle? He said no, Vladimir.

Our love is gone, it’s hit the skids
He said with tear dimmed eye
And if it weren’t for the kids
I’d kiss the man goodbye
Count all the times over I’ve bent
When we both shared our love
How much to me our friendship meant
And then he slew the dove
The snow white dove, the sign of peace
He ran off with Ukraine
I cried and begged him please to cease
My pleadings were in vain
With narrowed eyes I clenched my fists
Cried Putin is to blame
He sneered and through my tear dimmed mists
Screamed Stalin was his name

Vladimir Putin in intent on bringing back the Soviet Union, but fortunately the American voters have elected an irresistible force for good in the magnificent personage of Barack Hussein Obama. How lucky we are to have him protecting us from harmful evildoers. Tyrants like Putin tremble at his merest glance, his smallest gesture of displeasure. Barack Hussein Obama is a man of the people, yes, but he is larger than the people, larger than life itself, more god-like than man-like, the very embodiment of the meaning of the word Divine.

He wins with just a stony stare
A smirk, a wink a nod
Defy him Putin if you dare
And you will feel the rod
As wrathful righteousness lays bare
The bruises on your bod
So Mister Putin have a care
You face ALMIGHTY GOD

President Obama knows full well that Vladimir Putin is cheating on every arms reduction treaty signed by the Russian government, and yet he refuses to call them on it, or ever to recognize it. He still believes that being nice to Putin will bring him around to Obama’s way of thinking, but it will not. The Russians are building new missile systems while we disarm. The armed forces of the United States, under Obama, have been reduced to a force level lower than before World War 2, while the Russians, not to mention the Chinese, are racing along on a gigantic military buildup. The Obama response is to pretend there is nothing there, no threats, nothing to see, all the while insisting there is no danger, that everything is under control.

No way that there is pretense
For we all know the best defense
Is to close your eyes and say there’s nothing there
If you know that Putin’s cheating
The best way to stop the bleeding
Is to trash your own defense to please the bear

Venezuela, once one of the wealthiest countries in South America, with a thriving middle class and oil and coffee exports, is now dead broke, unable to feed its people, and importing oil and coffee because the Marxist government of Hugo Chavez and his successor has taken over everything and destroyed it with its socialist nonsense. You cannot tell the poor to go into the shops and take what you want without the shopkeepers closing up shop. You cannot sell state run gasoline for four cents a gallon when it cost you two dollars a gallon to get it out of the ground and refine it. You cannot repeal the law of supply and demand. It is truly said, that when the votes of the unproductive outnumber the votes of the productive, the unproductive vote for fairness. We are not yet Venezuela, but we’re getting close, as the Democratic Party has re-established their slave plantations filled with people who feed off the teat of the productive population in exchange for votes.

I am an unproductive gent, a man of no known station
I sire children whom I do not know
How lucky thus I am to be a part of such a nation
That I can rise so high from one so low
My votes bring into office men and women I can trust to
Look out for me and grant my every whim
Because they know I am a man the rich won’t throw a crust to
A man whose chances in this life were dim
But now we have the votes and we’re the ones to call the piper
We only want what just belongs to us
The money stashed in big Swiss banks by every greedy viper
Apart from that we don’t want any fuss
We’ll take free gas and free healthcare and charge it to your Visa
For it is you who ground us into dirt
And now that we’re on top we sit and smile like Mona Lisa
Determined and resolved to make you hurt

I tell my grandchildren the world is now a different place than it was when I was their age, but I don’t think they believe me, as I didn’t believe my grandfather when he told me the world was a different place than it was when he was my age. And that’s because it isn’t the world that’s different, it’s the perception of the speaker that the world is different just because it doesn’t fit his memories. The sky is not falling on everyone, only on those who have reached the point where suicide is an option. Rome did not fall, Rome was pushed over the edge because the citizens of Rome were no longer a homogeneous ethnicity, and the new citizens of Rome, having no long term ties to the city, did not think it worth defending. And yet Rome lived in memory for three hundred years after it ceased in reality to exist. And so shall the United States live in memory for hundreds of years after the current inhabitants, those who came for the free lunch, those who trade votes for iPhones, have shrugged their shoulders and watched the country decay around them and because of them. The culture and the country built by the settlers who came here for freedom and opportunity have left behind them generations of women who decided they would rather have fun living off their inheritance than have babies. And so the European stock that built this country is declining in numbers every year while the outlanders, the occupiers, multiply. It will end with ever diminishing first world white enclaves surrounded by the invading third world, where the children of those who inherit the country will go to schools where English is taught as a foreign language. We have run our race and now there are others in the starting blocks. But maybe not. My grampop probably worried about my generation as I now worry about my grandkids’ generation, but kids have a way of fooling you.

My grandchildren may never see
The country as it was when free
When free men kept the torch alight
And kids slept peacefully at night
For mom and dad were always near
And little kids had naught to fear
And all were taught the golden rule
And there were never guns in school
When tyrants quaked to hear the name
All knowing free men bore the flame
But that is gone, the day is done
And we, like Rome, have had our run
But maybe not, there still is hope
That we may yet escape the rope
You never know about these kids
A downward slope is not the skids

A couple of Finnish guys named Fry and Soderberg, with or without the umlaut, have looked at some rather dodgy data gathered from modern hunter gatherers, (are there still hunter gatherers around?) and conclude that people a hundred thousand years ago were benign pacifists. I spoke to a naked ape just the other day, and this is what he said:

“I know that people think I was a rude and naked ape
And stealing women from my neighbor’s clan
But that is so untrue that it is just a joke or jape
I tell you I was quite a peaceful man
Of course when times were difficult and berries hard to find
And hunting parties came home without meat
We kindly asked a neighbor clan if they would be so kind
To give our children something they could eat
But when we did those dirty rats all had the nerve to say
That they had just enough to feed their own
Enraging us to scream and shout that they would rue the day
And that is when we turned them all to bone
We gathered all our infantry and sappers and the like
Surrounded them declaring it was war
At the command we marched on them with lowered lance and pike
And taught the meaning of the phrase What For
But it was such a tiny show, it happened now and then
Not more than once a week or so it seemed
And now you say there’s folks who say we’re peaceful way back when
I smile at such absurdity undreamed