A framework deal has been announced between the murderous mullahs of Iran and the United States of Obama, allowing the Iranians to proceed apace with the ordained destruction of Israel. The president proudly says that if Iran cheats and gets the bomb the world will know it. Of course it will, especially those downwind of the fallout.

Does anyone think O will grieve
When nukes make ash of Tel Aviv
When morning sees the rising sun
Light up the corpses while The One
Is busy putting on his pants
And hearing of it says, “By chance,
I have a date, three guys and me
To play some golf at Burning Tree.
Immediate on my return
I’ll ascertain what I can learn
About the incident to date
That led to this deserv-ed fate.”
Does anyone think O will choose
To blame it on the hateful Jews
Of course he will, that is the plan
And why he’s loved throughout Iran

The median IQ is 100, which means that one half the population is below the median, and it was this lower half of the food chain that elected and re-elected a Muslim Communist to be president of the United States. The following song, Red Diaper Baby, is sung to the tune of that old time Country favorite, Red River Valley.

He was born as a Red Diaper baby
He was raised with a Red point of view
It was hoped that the lad one day maybe
Would destroy the old red, white and blue
As a Muslim his viewpoint was steady
He was ignorant, savage and vain
Like his parents were, stupid and petty
Early on his life’s pathway was lain
A good Christian for years he pretended
In Chicago he listened to Wright
All the while he knew what he intended
When the time came he’d turn out the light
He was taught as a Muslim to hate us
He was taught to hate Christians and Jews
He had lists of the harms that await us
Should he rise from the back of the pews
And take charge of the country and lead us
Down the path of destruction and woe
He would hurt us and harm us and bleed us
Until over the cliff we would go
He was born as a Red Diaper baby
With the hopes of his parents he rose
But with luck we’ll survive him, just maybe
And we’ll see if in two years he goes

The Yemeni army refused to fight the advancing Shi’ite rebels, and the Iraqi army refused to fight the advancing Sunni ISIS. Both sides are now armed with half a trillion dollars of US equipment, and are now engaged in all out religious civil war. I spoke to an Obama advisor and she almost fainted with delirious joy at the sheer brilliance of the Obama policy.

She said how brilliant is Barack’s
Maneuvers that attained
Our goals for Sunnis for attacks
On those whom we have trained
They do not fight, retreat instead
Equipment thrown away
She smiled and shook her pretty head
What else is there to say?
The Sunnis now have all the arms
They need to kill Shi’ite
Not least among the many charms
Is we don’t have to fight
And now when Shi’ites are destroyed
Our Sunni friends will soon
Surround Iran with all deployed
While Barack, our Haroun
Sees quietly the Iran threat
Dissolves beneath our gaze
The twelfth Imam is not here yet
And may not be for days
What happens though when Sunnis win
I said with a slight frown
And feel their muscle and begin
To take the US down?
But don’t you see, she clapped her hands
Barack has seen it all
It’s all according to his plans
Excuse me, I’ve a call
What’s that, they’ve joined together now
The twelfth Imam is here?
And Barack says that he will bow?
I see, she said, Oh Dear!

United States Senator Robert Menendez (D-NJ), has been indicted for corruption by the Justice Department, the allegations being that he used his office to the benefit of a friend and campaign contributor, something not unknown to every other Senator and Congressman who ever lived. A friend, now retired, was the bodyguard and muscleman for the head of the Philadelphia Teamsters Union. We walked together most afternoons for several miles, during which he told me Teamster Tales that I found quite believable. The Obama Justice Department reminds me of those conversations. Teamster members who seriously crossed the line often disappeared, along with their cars, into a convenient junk yard crusher, to be stacked up in a corner of the junk yard with other blocks of used metal. Senator Menendez seriously and inexcusably crossed the line by speaking out of turn. You do not disrespect the Godfather, and Obama felt seriously disrespected by having his policies criticized. And so, as a teaching moment, Menendez must be taught a lesson, for the benefit of other Democrats who might dare to think of country before Obama.

Of all such past Delendas
Carthago to Menendez
The stronger horse ripped out the other’s heart
Obama wins this tussle
He has that Teamster muscle
The weaker horse is doomed to pull the cart
Menendez must be shown to
Be like the man who’s known to
Shoot off his mouth but cower in disgrace
And kneeling, sobs and grovels
Like all those Kulak Pavels
Who cried when Stalin said you mind your place
And speaking of Joe Stalin
Obama is the dollin”
Of all the lefties yelling for the hide
Of Menendez the traitor
Of whom we’ll hear more later
But in this fight I’m on the traitor’s side

Secretary of State John Kerry, busily negotiating the surrender of the United States of Obama to Iran, says he can see the three paths under negotiation that are designed to keep Iran from getting nuclear weapons, but is worried that the fourth path, the hidden path, the path Iran will undoubtedly take, will lead to them acquiring nuclear weapons that will lead to war and worldwide death and destruction. Yet, knowing Iran will cheat on any deal agreed to, Kerry says the deal is a risk worth taking. John! Didn’t Robert Frost talk about the road not taken? You’re not as smart as Robert Frost, John, you’re not as smart as Frosty the Snowman. Just don’t sign anything, you numbskull!

All paths are hidden, all opaque
We see a single tile
The edges dark each step we take
In shadow all the while
But yet we walk into the night
Not knowing what’s ahead
And hoping that quite soon the light
Will dissipate the dread
But not to worry, not to fear
That O has planned our doom
John Kerry knows that it’s quite clear
Each path leads to Kaboom

We have all heard the story of William Tell, how the Habsburgs of Austria, who ruled Switzerland, placed a man named Gessler in charge of the province where Tell and his family lived. Gessler erected a pole in the town square and placed his hat on it, announcing that all who passed must bow to his hat under pain of death. Tell and his young son walked into town one day in 1307 and refused to bow, whereupon Tell was arrested and condemned to death. Gessler, aware of Tell’s reputation with the crossbow, said if Tell shot an apple off the head of his young son he would go free. With Gessler watching, Tell aimed at his son but shot Gessler. The important thing about the story is that Tell’s act did not end the Habsburg rule in Switzerland in 1307 or at any time thereafter. The defeat of the Spanish Armada did not disturb the power or the sleep of the Habsburgs, nor did anything else until World War 1, so great was the power of the political culture of Europe. And so it is with opponents of our current Leftist leaders. Ted Cruz and others can bow to the hat or kill Gessler, it makes no real difference. The Leftist culture now throttling our country and the rest of the civilized world is here to stay, its coils deep into our very guts, and it will take more than a crossbow bolt to dislodge it.

The boy, an apple and a hat
The time the recent past
A trigger pull and that was that
And Gessler breathed his last
Vienna though had noticed not
Continued they to dance
The waltz and maybe the gavotte
And gave Tell not a glance
And so it is that culture wins
Cervantes understood
That windmill culture underpins
The Habsburg head of wood
And like the Habsburg crowns of yore
The Left is here to stay
For no election short of war
Will put them all away

A letter of marque is written authorization given by a State to private citizens to attack and take ships of the enemy. Hacked emails to and from Hillary Clinton while she was Secretary of State reveal that she was running a private government out of her house with a private and secret staff, dealing with foreign governments outside official State Department business. There are those who wonder where she got the money to hire the very expensive specialists who ran her secret government. Did she issue letters of marque? I spoke to the skipper of the twelve gun Baltimore schooner Jenny Lind today and he said the cruise to the Gulf was very successful, with fifteen tankers laden with sweet crude oil taken just off Aden and sent home with prize crews. He chuckled and said,

A sweet sailing ship is the Baltimore schooner
Her spread of stiff canvas eats into the wind
There’s plenty of prizes we should have got sooner
There’s naught on the sea like the sweet Jenny Lind
We caught a big tanker and boarded her quickly
And locked up her crew in the bilges below
Her captain was stiff and a tiny bit prickly
He said that his bosses at Exxon would know
I showed him my Letter of Marque and he squinted
And said that he knew the name written in ink
I took him aside and I more or less hinted
That he’d be remembered, which caused him to think
We captured more ships, he said, shaking with laughter
And sent them all home to be sold for cold cash
But what was the name, I said, what was he after
He said he imagined ‘twas put in the stash
He nudged me and said an election was coming
With Letters of Marque flying off of the shelves
The trade routes with swift brigs and schooners were humming
With papers fair signed by the Clintons themselves

Despite virulent opposition the United States of Barack Obama is about to sign an agreement with Iran that will allow Iran to develop nuclear weapons, an eventuality that will inevitably lead to nuclear war and hundreds of millions of deaths. Barack Obama has written a letter to the Supreme Leader of Iran, expressing his love and solidarity.

The Office of the Supreme Leader, Sayyid Ali Khamenei

My Dearest Sayyid,

I’m trying oh so hard to get your nukes on line
But you should know I’ve trouble here at home
My enemies obstruct in everything I do
That’s why I write this little note to you
I cherish all this love that we call yours and mine
My heart and soul from you will never roam
We love and need each other in the greatest way
That’s why I drop this little line to say
Our work will see the birth of a new Caliphate
We’ll laugh to see the infidel despair
And Andalus returned to you, so kind and wise
And so this note for your sweet loving eyes
We share a love for Islam and the West we hate
We stride the world and conquer without care
And in the end our love will last a thousand years
And so I close with eyes with loving tears

All My Love,
B

Another Country song needing some notes and minor chords.

A THOUSAND YEARS OR SO

We knew the moment that we met
That we had loved before
We smiled with eyes so sudden wet
In love again once more

Once more to love each other so
To share our love and tears
A love we knew so long ago
A thousand lonely years

Chorus:

A thousand lonely years, oh Lord
A thousand lonely years
Without her Lord, so long a time
And oh so many tears

An angel with her folded wings
Shone with a golden light
And said that Heaven grants such things
But only for a night

We kissed goodbye just as the chime
Said it was time to go
And knew we’d meet again in time
A thousand years or so

Everyone has a multiplicity of phones; iPhones, Androids and various devices of similar description, all capable of receiving email and text messages and connection to the internet as well as the ancient and fast disappearing cultural rite of actually speaking to another human being. How many phones does a man need? I have been a phone all my life. An Anglophone. Had I been born two thousand years ago in Britain I might have been a Saxonphone, baritone one hopes. Had I been an All-Pro tight end and coach of the Bears I might have been, by the merest transposition of two letters, a Diktaphone. Had I been an English teacher I could have been a grammarphone. Which is why, for my entire life, I have found it easy to phone it in.

The number of the phones I need
Is difficult to tell
Confined for life like Mr. Bede
In my small monkish cell
I get my emails one by one
Slipped underneath my door
I read them when the day is done
Just like the day before
I have a phone there on the wall
It rings or so they say
For I so seldom get a call
Yet still my bill I pay
Some yearn for the past simpler life
Without cell phones and such
Where man could live without much strife
In his poor phoneless hutch