Sometime late in the eighteenth century a mechanical chessman was devised that could beat all comers. The mechanical Chess Master was called The Turk, and it wasn’t until almost a hundred years later that the secret of the Turk was revealed. The Turk was in fact a mechanical illusion that allowed the Turk, a human chess master, to hide inside and operate the machine. The Turk was an illusion. Most illusions are created to hide from us the illusion that we think of as reality Such are the political illusions people like Obama cast in order to get elected. There is, sadly, no escape from these illusions, and to think there is is an illusion. Every illusion has its Turk, for without the Turk the illusion is diffused, inchoate. The illusion requires a Turk to make the illusion real. The question in this case is, is Obama the Turk or the illusion?

It will not work
Without the Turk
Guiding the illusion
Sending probes
Into our lobes
Meant to cause confusion
Molding dreams
And shining beams
Of sunshine in profusion
To make us feel
Illusion’s real
By massive lie suffusion
But who then is
The hidden whiz
Who cast the O illusion
Who is the Turk
Who makes it work
Stay tuned for the conclusion

A Spanish assistant nurse at Madrid’s La-Paz Carlos III hospital has died of Ebola contracted while caring for two Catholic medical missionary priests, members of the Hospital Order of San Juan de Dios, who had been repatriated to Spain after contracting Ebola in West Africa. We do not yet know her age or her name, but none of that matters, for in the end neither age nor name matters so much as what one does with one’s life.

She was just a simple woman
A simple nursing nun
Who cared for those in sickness
And now her work is done
She was just a simple woman
We do not yet know her name
To Christ her life devoted
And in the end He came

A careful examination of the policies of the Obama administration since 20 January 2009 reveals an uncanny similarity of purpose, and that purpose is the debasement, disarmament and ultimate destruction of the United States in its current form, and replacing it with a blue model third world socialist state. To that end the Ebola outbreak in West Africa was seized upon as an opportunity, following the administration’s oft stated position that they would never let a crisis go to waste. No one needed to have helped Mr. Duncan get on an airplane for Dallas. All that was needed was to not prevent it. And who makes the call on when to allow and when to prevent? Why a certain Mr. Obama, the man behind the curtain. The Obamanoids cry it was just one man, it’s no big deal, but so is a tiny hole in a big ship no deal until it becomes one. One man infects four, those four infect sixteen, and so on in a deadly and unstoppable mathematical progression.

A tiny hole and we are sunken
And through that hole came Mr. Duncan
With infection and thematics
Constituting mathematics
That say clearly one infection
That on soberly reflection
Soon will turn into a number
That will not disturb the slumber
Of the hidden curtain master
Who will mumble sleep’ly “Faster”
Mathematical progressions
Make the fiercest of aggressions
Look like snails serenely racing
And not knowing what we’re facing
One thing above all is certain
There’s a man behind the curtain

A Liberian man who had been exposed to Ebola boarded a plane in Nigeria and flew to Dallas, where he got violently sick and went to a hospital where he was treated and mistakenly sent home. Over 100 people in Dallas, including his family and acquaintances he may have been in contact with, are now quarantined, and the number will grow exponentially unless the unknowns who came in contact with him and became infected, and who do not yet show any symptoms, are also quarantined, and we won’t know who they are until they show symptoms. Keeping the deliberately infected out is something that will not and cannot happen in a country of open borders and inadequate screening at airports. What does this have to do with the war the Muslims are fighting against us but not we against them? The pattern is now set. Suicide bombers no longer need to wear an explosive laden vest or sneak an explosive onto an airplane. Retail murder by explosive is no more. Wholesale murder by disease, and not just by Ebola, is the coming thing. Imagine a small number of infected Muslim suicide fanatics, say as few as 100, wandering through various parts of the country, strolling through malls and stadiums, walking downtown city streets, boarding crowded elevators, infecting all they come in contact with. Do the arithmetic. If one hundred infected Muslims each infect 100 people, and those 10,000 infect another 100 people each, then 1,000,000 people are infected within weeks of the Muslim suicides being deployed to the United States. And nobody knows who the 1,000,000 are until they show symptoms. The CDC says you cannot infect anyone until you show symptoms, but suppose the CDC is wrong. And even if they’re right, are we going to round up everyone who gets a fever and send them to a quarantine camp? No, we cannot physically do that, not in the time allotted, even if it were politically possible to do it, which it is not, for we have politically and culturally tied our hands, and cannot close our borders or keep anyone out for fear of being discriminatory, or worse, racist. And in the meantime, showing symptoms or not showing symptoms, the newly infected are infecting others. Pandemic and panic. The healthcare system overwhelmed and collapsed. Murder by the millions, that’s the ticket. Or is it that’s the plane ticket?

The darkness is upon us now
The shadows now grow long
The quiet martyrs showing how
The weak horse has grown strong
So strong the vaunted science of
The once strong horse will fail
How once the eagle now the dove
Has swallowed his own tale
And now believes it’s understood
That vigilance is past
Preferring now to knock on wood
Or how the dies are cast
Our sacred borders open wide
With open arms we cry
Come in! We’ve nothing here to hide
And if by chance we die
Then that is surely but a game
That nature plays at will
It’s no one’s fault, there’s none to blame
And so it ends, but still
A million here, a million there
Pandemics run their course
And at the end no one will care
That you’re the stronger horse

On 22 July 1209, during the Albigensian Crusade, the little French town of Beziers was reported to have given sanctuary to Cathar heretics. A Catholic army attacked the town and slaughtered the populace. When asked how to distinguish between the heretic Cathars and loyal Catholics, it is reported that the reply was, “Kill them all and let God sort them out.” Religious civil wars are the most vicious of all civil wars, and the war raging now in the Middle East is a religious civil war. We must not take sides, we must not decide who wins and who loses. We must kill them all and let God sort them out.

Who then are the Cathars
On whose side do we fight
The Sunni or the Shia
Which one the shining knight
Who do we arm and favor
Whose horse now do we ride
When Muslim knights come riding
A horse called Genocide
Just let them kill each other
Let one in triumph shout
Then kill in turn the victors
And let God sort them out

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