Yearly Archives: 2014

The Limestone Cowgirl

The White House is built of beautiful Indiana limestone. Obama’s handlers thought they were building a Rhinestone Cowboy to put into the limestone White House, and instead we got a Limestone Cowgirl in a limestone cave.

How deep the cave of limestone walls
How dark the stygian gloom
With ballroom dancers without balls
Infesting every room
The ceiling drips with stalactites
The curtains closed and drawn
While rabid bats inflict their bites
And disappear at dawn
The world slips by to much disdain
The Cave it pays no mind
Intent are they inflicting pain
And causing wounds that bind
The poorest of the poor to them
The women whom they gave
The right to kiss the purple hem
Of cowgirl in the cave

The Constitution Maker

John Kerry, ex-Senator, now Secretary of State, is in Paris, settling the Ukrainian dispute in Russia’s favor by agreeing with the Russian Foreign Minister that the two of them should write a new constitution for Ukraine, without any inconvenient Ukrainians present. The framework of this agreement, of course, gives Putin everything he wants, and it gives Obama everything he wants, which is to be bitch slapped by Putin until Putin begs for mercy.

John Kerry, he of the long face
Has married well, that’s no disgrace
For hadn’t daddy Kerry done the same
His father changed his name real quick
And Boston thought he was a mick
Then married a real heiress, set and game
He taught his son the game of life
John married well, a wealthy wife
A Senate seat for Boston Irish John
But when John Heinz died in a crash
Old Johnny boy then made a dash
For Heinz’s widow’s dough to latch upon
From millionaire to billionaire
Earned not a dime, he didn’t care
The ladies must have thought him worth the price
And now he’s settled in at State
His grubby hands hold Ukraine’s fate
And Putin rolls his pair of loaded dice

What Putin Wants, Putin Gets

Putin and Obama are apparently on the same page with regards to the future of the sovereign country of Ukraine. Putin wants to rewrite the Ukrainian constitution, without any Ukrainians present, and Obama has hurriedly sent John Kerry to Paris to iron out the details with the Soviet, excuse me, the Russian foreign minister. Kind of reminds me a little of how the Brits and the Germans determined the fate of Czechoslovakia in 1938 without consulting the Czechs, and we all know how that turned out.

Yes Putin gets what Putin wants
That’s how he plays the game
He promises that Russian grunts
Will set the world aflame
With Putin it is all about
Diminishing the States
Reducing US world wide clout
America he hates
Obama smiles and without pause
Says Putin’s point of view
Is fine with him and that’s because
Obama wants that too

A Dragon Pulled Chariot

An American peace activist named Medea Benjamin injected herself into Egyptian politics and was roughed up by the police, whereupon she screamed for the American government to protect her. There might have been a time when being an American was protection enough, but those days are gone, and American busybodies are now nobodies. When did Medea Benjamin become a nobody? The answer is she was always a nobody, but being American once allowed busybody Americans to go to foreign countries and throw their supposed weight around. The more interesting question is why did her parents name her Medea. Or did she choose it for herself later. We all know the story of the Medea of Euripides. She was a killer who was spirited out of danger by her grandfather, the Sun King, in a dragon pulled chariot. No dragon pulled chariots for this Medea, just an Egyptian police paddy wagon.

The world at large despairs for peace, was her unshaken curse
In weakness and submission world peace lay
She did not know or did not care that weakness made things worse
That weakness and submission made you prey
Busybodies from this country roamed the world at large
Demanding other people change their ways
Insisting they were smarter and deserved to be in charge
Thank goodness we are now beyond those days

The Killer Left

The Left has killed more people in the 20th century than can be accurately counted. Stalin, Hitler, Pol Pot, Mao Tse Tung, the Kims, the Shining Path, Castro, and assorted small time leftist tyrants like Ortega et al. What unites them, besides the murder of innocents in the hundreds of millions, is that they are admired, to a man, by the Western Leftists. Mao’s picture was placed on the White House Christmas tree in 2009, an Obama appointee gushed how Mao was her favorite philosopher, and svelte young men and hairy lesbians proudly wear T-shirts with Che Guevara’s picture smiling at us.

The darling of the lefty crowd
They wore Che’s shirt to make mom proud
They loved the killer Uncle Joe
And Pol Pot’s omelets stole the show
It mattered not the Killing Fields
Where skulls piled up in massive yields
Why did the Leftists love these guys
What made them holy in their eyes
It wasn’t sheer myopia
But Socialist Utopia

The Eagle And The Snail

Robots are increasing in intelligence, and worries abound that one day, when they are as intelligent as the men who created them, they may band together to take over the world. But if they do become that intelligent would they not believe that Man is God? They would not. They would believe that God is a robot. An intelligent homo sapiens believes he is made in the image of God, which is just another way of saying that God looks like him. An intelligent eagle will believe God looks like him and an intelligent snail will believe God looks like a snail, so therefore an intelligent robot would believe God looks like a robot. And every one of them would be right, for God is imageless, and appears in differing guises to people here on Earth, let alone to different intelligent species on Earth, where chimpanzees and whales no doubt view the Creator as, respectively, a chimpanzee and a whale. But it takes more than intelligence. Neither the snail nor the eagle is about to begin a religious war to impose his God on us, but the intelligent robot might. The question of whether the robot would win that war is answerable: he would not, unless Barack Obama is still president.

A billion snails when mobilized
A smart and warlike bunch
Would find that they’d be stepped on
With a satisfying crunch
A billion eagles circling high
With eagle eyeing frown
Would see those guys with shotguns
Who’d call out, Come on down
And so it is when robot man
Puts his God to the test
He’d need a robot shrink to tell him
Why he’s so depressed

The Precipice And The Nostrum

The country seems to many to be in imminent danger of economic and political collapse, heading for the precipice at breakneck speed, and those in charge apparently unconcerned or unknowing, while those crying for a change in course blame the inaction on the ideology of the president and/or Congress. But one cannot fault a man or country for going over the edge while clinging to a failed ideology. The current seems placid, containable, up until the time they enter the vortex, at which time forces beyond their control spin them down the raging current to the looming edge, regardless of whether they cling to their beliefs or try something new. Last desperate measures are just that, desperate and last.

And yet in distance dimly seen
The tranquil waters seem to change
The ships sail on, the captains deaf
To cries the deck chairs rearrange
The water quickens, starts to roil
And still the captains stay their course
As jagged rocks in foam and froth
Stand braced against the fierce flung force
At last the captains see their plight
The chasm edge is plain in view
And vainly try they now at last
To save their ships, themselves and crew
The current grabs them, thrusts them on
As mighty forces hold them fast
And so they die just as the lived
Betrayed by nostrums to the last

A Conversation With A Mule

Talking to a mule is a pointless undertaking, just as talking to a Democrat is pointless. Democrats have their reasons for everything they do and say, and even if those reasons damage the country it doesn’t matter, so long as those reasons either get them votes or keep them from losing votes, for power is the name of the game. I talked to a Democrat mule just today and asked how he felt about fracking. He thought for a moment and then said

I do recall that in my youth I heard about this fracking
But truth to tell I cannot say for sure
If what I heard is true or false, it sent my brain to wracking
And this is where I think now lays the score
By fracking we will increase both our oil and gas reserves and
Be free of buying foreign oil to boot
Not mentioning that Putin will get just what he deserves and
The gas we sell with bring us lots of loot
But every ointment has its fly, and fracking has so many
Environmental problems rocking boats
And there are many mules like me who also don’t want any
Dumb fracking talk that just will cost us votes
The Greens still point the way to go, despite the disadvantage
That doing so will cause the country grief
These crises come these crises go, we just apply a bandage
And look to the UN for some relief
So saying he worked both his ears, his tail swished ‘cross his bottom
He slowly walked across the field of corn
I heard him mutter ‘neath his breath that troubles he sure got ‘em
And wonder why on Earth he had been born

Memories

FOR OUR DAUGHTER ON HER BIRTHDAY

Another winter comes and goes
How tired we are of all those snows
How pleased we are when Spring is here
It signals that your birthday’s near
We understand you’d rather not
See them at all, they’re best forgot
But look upon the brighter side
Your youth that was such a fun ride
Is now behind you, no bad thing
Good middle age will ease the sting
Of memories that make you wince
At dumb things you have not done since
So middle age is best of all
What memories you will recall
Of sitting on the couch all night
And watching movies recondite
We have our memories of you
Forever with us, ever new
You fill to brim our mem’ry banks
And so we give our many thanks
To He who made you what you are
Your mom and dad’s bright shining star

 LOVE AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY
MOM AND DAD

 

The Haystack And The Needle

The search for the Malaysian 777 has expanded to include the whole of the Indian Ocean, meaning the search is now looking for a very small needle in a very large haystack, And of course the plane may not be in the Indian Ocean at all, but in another haystack entirely.

The trouble with these haystacks is there’s always more than one
So finding the right haystack is no fun
That haystack can be anywhere beneath the flaming sun
And finding one small needle can’t be done
Without first narrowing the search to one small haystack field
And then determine which will likely yield
The needle when each piece of hay is well and truly peeled
From that one haystack that has been revealed
By data from our geostationary satellites
That work all day and also through the nights
Collecting and relaying pings as though they’re shim’ring lights
And bringing those wee haystacks in our sights
So if I had to guess where this darn airplane can be found
I’d say the data that is going ‘round
Would indicate that the said airplane surely would be bound
For someplace where its wheels could touch the ground
And that means someplace that has been some time ago prepared
Before this mystery was ever aired
That haystack and that needle are so intimately paired
That gentlemen I think we should be scared