Back in the days of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, the US devised a strategy called ‘Dense Pack” to ensure the survival of missiles in event of a surprise Soviet first strike. The dense pack consisted of a string of nuclear missile silos spaced very close together, the theory being that as Soviet missiles flew over the North Pole the first nuclear explosions would send up a cloud of debris through which the following missiles would have to pass, some being destroyed in the process, with the next nuclear explosions destroying more of the following missiles, and so on, resulting in the survival of American missiles downrange. But that was then. A dense pack now refers to a hall full of Obama supporters.

Lo info voters clearly lack
Ability to simply track
What’s going on both front and back
They are, of course, the densest pack
They follow every racist hack
Reject the learned, praise the quack
They think they’re smart but don’t know jack
They are, or course, the densest pack

The Federal Government is now monstrously immense, capable of moving entire groups of people in any direction they wish. And they have, out of misplaced compassion and fairness for the perceived underdog, persuaded an entire group of people that they were oppressed and ground under the heels of the white majority, to the extent that many within that group believe they have the right to loot and riot with impunity whenever they feel aggrieved. Lyndon Johnson planted the seeds with the 1960s Great Society, and we have reaped what has been sown. And in that reaping we have torn down the very fabric of our once vibrant, free, inclusive and productive society.

How did we come to this
That white folks cannot walk
In safety on our inner city streets
And why do looters think
My stuff belongs to them
Despite them given all those shiny treats
The 60s riots showed
That no one would be stopped
From looting and then burning down the town
A city blackout now
And instant mobs appear
With liquor stores the first be taken down
There may have been a time
When forceful measures might
Have shown that working hard to get your share
Was better than the dole
Or looting and the torch
But they’re oppressed and we’re just being fair

What was once a necessity has become a gigantic locust. Where once little girls toiled for starvation wages making artificial flowers, now the overweight and overpaid Government Employee union workers spend artificial hours doing artificial work. But government unions are part of government, and if the government is turned out then so can the government unions be turned out. Needless to say neither of the current political parties is prepared to pare the bloat or rock the boat, though for differing reasons. Eventually, as the country drifts further and further left, everyone will be a government employee, and everyone will belong to a government union, even the little girls toiling for starvation wages making artificial flowers.

Well before you take communion
Just be sure the priest is union
For you know there will be watchers in the pews
While the logger and the blogger
Spend their days in playing Frogger
No one gives a damn so long’s they pays their dues
When your spouse, be wife or hubby
Grows a tiny bit too chubby
Union fat police come calling at your door
And your union boss is hounded
By his boss as desks are pounded
And you’re forced to weigh in where you were before
Yes your union it will rule you
They will take great pains to fool you
Into thinking that they have your back as well
But they much enjoy the power
They have o’er you every hour
And your life if they so choose can be a hell
There is no place you can hide in
They will take you for a ride in
A big union van with Teamsters at the wheel
We’re all union Federales
Every day we go to rallies
Then we go to work to see what we can steal

On Thursday, 28 August 2014, Syrian al Qaeda soldiers drove up to a UN peacekeeping outpost on the Golan Heights manned by a handful of Fijian soldiers and demanded their surrender. The Fijians turned over their weapons and surrendered and were driven away, probably to a freshly dug slit trench where they now lay. The rebels then drove to UN outpost 69, this one manned by a small group of 35 Filipino soldiers. The Filipinos, outnumbered and surrounded, refused to surrender, and put up a fight. Next morning the Filipinos at outpost 69 withdrew into Israel, covered by the UN Irish contingent. On Saturday outpost 68, with about 40 Filipino soldiers, was attacked, and again the Filipinos refused to surrender to superior force. That night, after dark, after fighting off the attackers during the day, the small Filipino force walked over the hills to Israel and safety. The lesson is clear. The soldier’s creed, through the ages, is Death before Dishonor. The Philippines can be proud of their soldiers, who chose not to surrender but to fight.

Surrender? Never! Not today!
We die if die we must
We’re soldiers, we will not betray
Our country’s sacred trust!

It was said of the Romans that they made a desert and called it peace. And so it was, for nothing is quite so peaceful as a sere and terminally quiet desert. Ask the next Carthaginian you see if making a desert of your enemy’s homeland is an effective measure or not. The modern West prides itself on no longer being Roman, but not being Roman is a very recent and no doubt brief episode in the history of the European race. To look at the joyous faces of the Muslim killers as they behead an infidel, or to hear the joyous ululations of the Arab street at the sight of rockets heading for Israel, is to understand that the Arab killer and the Arab street know nothing of the history of European desert making, and not understand will be bewildered when it finally happens to them.

The picture is clear, though the pixels are few
The Muslims all thirst for the death of the Jew
They dance in the streets when the curbs are all lined
With bodies of infidels Allah has signed
Beheadings of Christians as cameras roll
The vengeance clock ticks with the mounting death toll
The killings continue, a war without cease
‘Til we make a desert and call it a peace

The Democrats have created the current Hispanic invasion of the United States in the belief that they are thereby creating Democrat voters who will ensure the Democrats have a permanent governing majority. They are wrong about this. The future is clear. The two party system will be realigned due to the realignment of the Affinity Groups already underway. The Democratic Party is composed of liberal Whites, Jews, Blacks, Hispanics, Feminists, Greens and Homosexuals. The problem for the Democrats is that their two largest Affinity Groups, Blacks and Hispanics, are not natural allies but natural enemies, economically, culturally and racially, and Hispanics are not particularly fond of Feminists and Homosexuals either. As the Black, Feminist and Homosexual Affinity Groups gained control of the Democratic Party, the once Solid Democratic South White Affinity Group abandoned the Democratic Party and became solidly Republican. In the same way the Hispanic Affinity Group will, in the next generation or so, abandon the Democrats and vote Republican. I have consulted my friend Waltradamus, who says things will change, as they always do, and usually in ways completely unforeseen, even by him.

The power of the Throne resides
In those whose voting path decides
Who gets to sit in the big chair
In that great room that is not square

One day, when we have mastered quantum computing, discovered the secret of cold fusion and found the principles of Warp Drive, we’ll be able to put these products on the market without unnecessary interference from the attorneys. Then, as Richard Fernandez at the Belmont Club blog has so elegantly said, “for the second time in history, man will have discovered fire.” I have long thought that such things were just around the corner, though sometimes it’s a very long trip to the corner. Quantum physics was discovered by serendipity in 1905, and the work on Quantum Physics and Quantum Mechanics was mostly completed by the 1930s. We know the names: Planck, Schrodinger, Heisenberg, Bohr, Dirac, Pauli and many others. What we don’t know yet are the names in the history books for the successor to Quantum Physics, for a successor there will be, just as the Quantum succeeded Newtonian physics. I don’t know what the new physics will look like, but I feel certain it will change everything, just as Quantum physics changed everything. The speed of light will prove to be no stumbling block to interstellar travel, and in a just world each year the graduating class of Harvard Law School will be put on a ship and sent to a cold and distant planet somewhere in the vicinity of Sirius. I spoke of this to my friend Og, and he had some very interesting things to say:

Before his cave mouth streaked with soot
My friend Og sat at ease
A scraggly dog lay by his foot
Untroubled by his fleas
What think you, Og? I smiled and said
The stars are in our reach
And medicine, by what I’ve read
Has marched well past the leech
Og rubbed a fist on stubbled beard
And looked me in the eye
And said, That ain’t what I just heered
Some feller said the sky
Was smaller now with slower light
And here he spat with scorn
Them lawyer fellers just last night
Come back afore they’re born
I knowed inventin’ fire’d lead
To foolery one day
And now dependin’ who you read
There mought be hell to pay
Them lawyers sent to Sirius
They took ‘em faster’n light
And somethin’ real mysterious
Gave everyone a fright
Like Einstein said when you go fast
The clock slows down your time
These lawyer fellers they went past
The speed that light can climb
So when they ended up the trip
And opened up the door
There wan’t no body in the ship
Just clothes there on the floor
They ain’t been born yet, understand
Time winded back the clock
They brought the ship home backwards and
It’s sittin’ in the dock
I never liked this science stuff
No good can come, I fear
The fire, yes, was good enough
And maybe good malt beer
But otherwise we take a chance
Unleashing somethin’ mean
No reason we just got to dance
With atoms and the gene
I left him there, his drinking horn
His club and dog at hand
And dreamed of lawyers never born
And knew that life was grand

Hillary Clinton, arguably the worst Secretary of State the country has had up until John Kerry, and indisputably the worst politician in history, recently bit the hand that fed her and said Barack Obama did some very stupid stuff in general and the Benghazi affair in particular. Obama probably never noticed, but his acolytes were outraged, and so a kiss and make up lunch was hastily arranged at the twelve million dollar Obama vacation home on Martha’s Vineyard. But the lunch was not about kissing and making up, it was about winning and losing.

An ocean breeze
A pleasant lunch
Each puts the squeeze
Each pulls the punch
The smiles are real
As Styrofoam
They make the deal
Then head for home
But then each thinks
The other’s fluff
Who often blinks
When going’s tough
And so they set
About to find
A way to get
Out from behind
Who’ll cop the plea
Who’ll drop the dime
Who’ll say who me?
S/he did the crime!
Under the bus
He/she must go
What’s all the fuss
No one will know
Congress convenes
Who wins the fight?
One spills the beans
About that night
Of course this scene
Hangs on who wins
In aught sixteen
When all the sins
Are washed away
If the returns
At end of day
Show that Hill earns
A four year turn
Internes to thrill
Blue dresses burn
First Lady Bill

A new bunch of murderous Muslim fanatics has arisen who call themselves the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS. These guys are determined to create a new Muslim Caliphate, and they make al Qaeda look like a group of community organizers. So murderous is ISIS that al Qaeda has disowned them. ISIS uses terror as a weapon of first choice, executing all who are not Sunni Muslim, be they Shi’a Muslim or Christian infidel. They routinely kill all the men and boys in a Shi’a or Christian town they overrun, sell the women into slavery and keep the girls for themselves just in case they run out of goats. I spoke to an ISIS fighter just this morning and asked about the new Caliphate. He smiled and said,

The glories of the Caliphate
Will shine like blazing stars
And Baghdad will be glorious again
We’ll kill all of you white folks and
We’ll burn down all the bars
And parcel out the women to our men
We’ll sweep out all before us and
We’ll put all to the sword
Who dare to speak their mind or make a fuss
We slaughter and deflower but
We never waterboard
For that would be too cruel for even us
We thank the US Army for
Equipment that we take
From Army of Iraq who you have trained
They run like rabbits and we laugh
At soldiers who are fake
And executed all who had remained
We count the days and know we have
Two years to do our deeds
Obama he play golf while we draw maps
Of places that we overrun
And those that fill our needs
Believe me none of us are taking naps
Obama call himself Hussein
But names don’t make the man
Saddam five times the man, don’t make me laugh
We know Barack and all we do
Is go according plan
While Barack bows low to his female staff
Yes we be ISIS and before
You know we be in towns
Like London and New York and Paris too
We act like soldiers not like ladies
Dressed in evening gowns
Your death will be a blessing ‘fore we’re through
He laughed out loud and smiled and said
He’d see me down the road
Then grinned and turned his new Humvee around
I knew that killing such as he
Was rows that must be hoed
And doing it would take boots on the ground

Scientists claim that life extension medical technology is right around the corner, and children alive today will live for 150 years, with further advances extending the human life span to undreamed of lengths. But what happens when the United States, the science and medical and technology innovator for the world, becomes an ossified gerontocracy and all new ideas and innovations are stifled by two hundred year old leaders who grew up in a different time and place and point of view? Who’s going to make great grandpop give up the reins to the family business? Will established writers ever give over to younger voices? Probably not. If I were a two hundred year old successful author I would most definitely feel I would be better read than dead.

When time was short and life was cheap
A man would find eternal sleep
About the time his sons were men
And wound the clock around again
The generations rose and fell
Determined by the tolling bell
As sons reprised the father’s life
And daughters made someone a wife
It all made so much perfect sense
The shorter life in recompense
Allowed for newer ways of thought
To build upon what forbears brought
But now we find extended years
Bring forth the gravest of all fears
That father will not step aside
That novel thought he’ll not abide
That innovation is now dead
And what is past remains instead
For once a point of view is formed
That view becomes how thought is normed
The innovator now asleep
Till once again life’s short and cheap