The history of man is one of unending, unbending conflict. Us against the Other, us against ourselves. Man has fought for country, for city state, for city, for tribe, for clan, for family and for himself. The evidence of our senses is that man fights because he likes to. Maybe the anthropologists are right and man is a naked ape, born with aggression and built in bellicosity. Whatever, throughout history, men have fought and bled and died, sometimes for gold, sometimes for glory, and very often for honor. But thank the gods we are and were aggressive, for without warfare to stoke the fires of the mind we would probably not have yet emerged from the stone age, never to see the wonders and marvels of a technological society.

The chariots of Kadesh
And the bows of Agincourt
The triremes and the tracks of Panzer IIIs
The ponies of the Golden Horde
The doughty farmer Boer
The history of man is men like these
Cold Harbor where they lay in rows
The blood drenched Somme at flood
Black Cannae and the green of Flodden Field
The bomber contrails ‘gainst the blue
The khaki colored mud
The common theme is men who would not yield
So many times their lives were
Sacrificed by lesser men
Who led them by the divine right of birth
They lit the flame of duty and
Would light it yet again
Though lying ‘neath a sacred piece of Earth

In an unscheduled interview, President Obama unburdened himself of his doubts and fears, admitting tearfully that all was a sham, that his handlers convinced the populace of a mighty country that he was someone he was not, that it was all make believe. With tears coursing down his powdered cheeks, he sobbed:

Just making believe I am who you see here
Just making believe that all this is true
Just making believe that I’m meant to be here
Just making believe is all can do
For all of my life I’ve been a pretender
I’ve closed shut my eyes to all that is real
While borrowing all, despising my gender
Covering up just how badly I feel
Changing my faith to be sure I’m elected
Making believe to be what I am not
Always a smile, with my real life protected
All for the gold in that sweet rainbow’s pot
The sweet call to prayer, so haunting the beauty
The name I was born with, the father I lost
Yes chosen I was, and I well did my duty
I did as was told whatever the cost
Just making believe I sit here and wonder
Would my life been better were I never born
Never been born to this lightning and thunder
Just making believe, my God how I’m torn

We are, thankfully, nearing the end of the most disastrous presidential reign in the history of the United States. There have been incompetents, Carter comes to mind, there have been the corrupt, Harding, there have been the traitorous, Buchanan, but not until Obama have we had a president who was all three. And yet it was but a short six years ago that he burst on the scene, lighting the night sky with a cool blue light. What we didn’t know then was that he was like a firefly, briefly winking in the dark, the light not cool but cold.

The firefly with light so cold
Enchants the summer park
Flares briefly then, so I am told
His cold blue light is dark
And so it is with our Hussein
So briefly bright he flared
His cold blue light led to his reign
In which he never cared
To lead by smallest word or deed
The perks and Air Force One
Were all that he would ever need
Until his term was done
The smartest man in every room
Is what his minions cried
The world the bride and he the groom
The nation’s joy and pride
Unlike the firefly’s brief light
That so enchants the park
Hussein’s brief reign has brought the blight
That turned the light to dark

A social paradigm is the framework within which laws, thought and way of life is contained. People thought differently about a great many things a hundred years ago than do the people of today. A hundred years ago no one believed the government had a duty to care for the individual from cradle to the grave, but the people of this paradigm do. The current paradigm began with the collapse of the stock market in October 1929, ushering in the progressive paradigm that replaced the conservative paradigm that had lasted since the end of the Civil War. The new progressive paradigm was born in deep Depression, where the common theme was “Brother can youse paradigm.” I believe the progressive paradigm is due to be replaced, and the new paradigm may very well consist of a deep seated distrust of all authority, an attitude that It Ain’t Necessarily So.

We’re told the fierce Ebola will
Not ever reach these shores
That airport screening is so fine
They catch the smallest spores
And doubters of our wisdom are
Just hate filled right wing whores
But it ain’t necessarily so
We were told we’d keep our doctor
If we simply wanted to
And that Obamacare would help
Us all not just the few
And that we’d see great savings as
The health care bills came due
But it ain’t necessarily so
We’re told the world’s a peaceful place
Now that Obama’s here
That Muslim killers with big nukes
Is nothing we should fear
That open borders doesn’t draw
Third worlders far and near
But it ain’t necessarily so
And so the paradigm will shift
And things will turn around
Economies will stiffen and
The dollar will be sound
And all the things the Left has done
Will soon be underground
But that ain’t necessarily so

A woman who had contact with Mr. Duncan, the Liberian Ebola victim who chose to die in Dallas rather than Monrovia, was discovered to be a passenger on a Carnival cruise line ship. The ship has been denied docking rights, and may be doomed to sail the seas forever, like the Flying Dutchman, very much like the country under the reign of the anointed Barack Obama. But everything is under control – Joe Biden’s chief of staff, a man with no medical experience whatever, has been appointed Ebola Czar, his qualifications for the post that he is part of the liberal Democrat hive, a loyal Obama apparatchik. But not to worry. We’re all on a cruise ship now.

Cruisin’ down the river
Sittin’ in the stern
She said she was his’n
And he said he was her’n
Thought they’d take vacation
Take a little cruise
Down that lonesome river
All their cares to lose
Man said to the captain
Sir, when can we dock
Captain said sir never
O has stopped the clock
All has been suspended
Till the Czar’s in place
On this endless river
At this fearsome pace
Racing to destruction
Passengers afeard
Like the Flying Dutchman
Till we’ve all been cleared
Many mornings later
Far far out to sea
Man says to the captain
Sickness seems to be
Raging through the cabins
Spreading far and wide
All are getting fearful
On this ‘ternal ride
On the ship Obama
Captain said to man
Locked up in your cabins
Is the master plan

It turns out lemmings do not voluntarily go over the cliff. It has been revealed that the Disney documentary of years ago that showed the lemmings leaping off a cliff to their deaths was staged. The lemmings were brought to the cliff and placed on a turntable that flung them unwillingly off the cliff. A hundred years or so ago, while I was in the fifth grade, long before Walt Disney and his turntable, I became acquainted with the lemming myth, and being a fifth grader, believed every word of it. I didn’t realize it at the time, but people, like lemmings, do allow themselves to be led over the cliff, where they fall to their deaths still claiming allegiance to the guy who pushed them. These people are called Democrats.

They smile and twirl around like Peggy Fleming
And then over the cliff like any lemming
And as they fall they may be heard condemning
Our leaders past with woes completely stemming
From Georgie Bush’s hawing and his hemming
As all the Middle East reduced to fire
And little Georgie raised the Arab’s ire
Much worse than even by his inept sire
With wars of which he never seemed to tire
Till ended by a man we all admire
The world is much a far more peaceful place now
His policies are picking up the pace now
Obama sternly tells it face to face now
And the few foes we have all know the case now
Excuse me, but we’re leaping into space now
And so it goes, the Democratic Party
The cliffs are near and none want to be tardy
They sing and dance in voices gay and hearty
They think they have a permanent majarty
Over the cliff, the Democratic Party

Muslim violence and terror is not confined to Iraq and Syria, nor is the threat confined to the United States and other western countries. The Muslim terror stretches across Africa from Mali and Nigeria, to Algeria and Libya to Egypt and Gaza, to Yemen and Somalia, to Pakistan and Afghanistan and northern China. This is a war against the West wrapped up in a religious civil war between the Sunni and the Shia. Isis is a problem, al Qaeda is a problem, the Taliban are a problem, but we face far greater problems if we allow the Sunni monarchies of the Gulf to drag us into the civil war in an attempt to use the American military to save their worthless hides. We must not grab hold of the Sunni tar baby in the effort to reduce the threat from such as ISIS. We must specifically target ISIS and destroy them to show the rest of the bastards we can, but we should not, in the process, do to Assad what we did to Khadaffi. It is not our job to remove dictators. It is our job to kill Muslims who kill us.

How faint it seems, the stench of death
So very  far away
As Muslims take the very breath
Of life from those whom they
Define as infidels who must
Be slain on God’s command
And rendered to unredeemed dust
To Allah’s fierce demand
A thousand years the Muslim wait
A thousand years and more
To strike for God and Caliphate
To bring the West to war
And they shall find that what they wish
Is not what they will get
When they become food for the fish
And see the crescent set
Another thousand years and more
As millions quickly die
They dared the western way of war
And now we say goodbye

Life is fragile, and exits on its own timetable. The beauty of the rose is ephemeral, yet is reborn every Spring. The Mayfly dances for an hour and is gone, yet to the Mayfly the dance lasts a lifetime. The dinosaurs wandered the Earth for hundreds of millions of years, yet are gone, while Man has lived a tiny fraction of that time and believes he is immortal. The distant sound heard by all living things is the swishing of the scythe.

I believe that I’m included
In that group of simple men
Who believe they’re not deluded
By rank sophistry, but then
I look ‘round at all about me
Who think such as they can’t fail
And who listen not and doubt me
When I say that life is frail
Fossils show that life is given
Then is taken in its time
Civil life is often riven
Thrashing in a death throe mime
Life is rare in God’s great meeting
Of the chosen in His care
Life is good but oh so fleeting
One brief moment in the glare
Of the suns that light the heavens
Of the universe so vast
Life that is and was still leavens
Both the future and the past

The newest thing in the insane world of modern art is the invisible painting. A blank canvas by a celebrity fetches big money. Artists are getting their invisible paintings hung in galleries, and insist that just because there is nothing on the canvas doesn’t mean they haven’t put a lot of thought and work into it. The world is run on the invisible quantum. Is the quantum god? Is there such a thing as a quantum or a quark, or is it simply a convenient term for I don’t know why it works but it does? In such a world, is it truly inconceivable that someone would pay good money for an invisible painting of a tree?

I think that I shall never see
A thing as lovely as a tree
A tree whose leaves and branches seem
To lie beyond the edge of dream
The world a canvas blank and sere
Portraying that which is not here
The tree not seen, no leaf or bark
Content to sit beside the quark
And contemplate the men who dare
To say the lovely tree’s not there

We all remember the Obama people moving into the White House on 20 January 2009 and removing the letter W from all the White House typewriters and keyboards, so filled with insane hatred for the previous president were they. I have no hatred for Obama and his people. Disgust and loathing yes, but not hatred. I would never remove all the Os from the office typewriters and keypads. And yet, the letter W to those people meant something. It isn’t until you put the letters together into words that they mean something more.

Why should the letter W
Trouble you
Why should the letters AR
Leave a scar
Why is the acronym ISIS
A crisis
Why are the letters OBAMA
A drama
Why is this president like no OTHER?
Well, put them all together they spell MOTHER