As The World Turns

I spoke to Phileas Fogg today, and he was definitely out of sorts, not at all the upbeat, optimistic man he was just eighty days ago when he set out in a hot air balloon to circle the Earth. He said things were not going well within the magic kingdom; the number of working elves was steadily declining and the number of layabouts demanding the elves work harder increasing exponentially. He said if he could have tapped into the political hot air he could have made the trip in half the time.

He said the EU’s had it
And sadly he had bade it
A toodle-oo, a fond farewell, goodnight
To hear them all was sunny
But other people’s money
Was now a thing to which they have a right
As eastward we were soaring
Below the clans were warring
The one demanding a new caliphate
The other says the Mahdi
Will gather everybody
Into a magic, peaceful Muslim state
We crossed the shining mountains
Where Kubla Khan’s gold fountains
Lay broken and the mare’s milk ceased to flow
The Chinese skies did blacken
Her factories not slacken
And smoke hid all from sight that lay below
The land of the Bushido
Where all thought it was neat-o
The country had determined suicide
Was now their only future
No geisha hootchie-cootcher
They work but let the robots now decide
A long trip the Pacific
I’ll say the view’s terrific
On crossing high the California shore
Like Greece and Venezuela
The pols will never fail ya
They’ll tax and spend till everybody’s poor
We saw the land of freedom
Was now the land of me-dom
Where ethnic groups demanded their fair share
Where fair share means the lion
Gets all because it’s my’n
You’ll pay back what you stole till you are bare
Where there was no more debate
Every sentence now is hate
While Mullahs smile and close in on the bomb
Barack says that wars have ends
And the peace of God ascends
And killings and beheadings not Islam
There he paused and softly sobbed
We are done, we’ve lost, been robbed
Of our culture and our ordinary lives
By the Leftists now in charge
Who have killed us, small and large
Of the peoples who have raised us from the hives
To the heights of science, art
From the rude huts at the start
To where we fly at will to distant Mars
Leftist dogma, Leftist cant
No debate just Leftist rant
Till once again we see the distant stars
As points that just mark light
That perplex the deepest night
And the rude mud hut looms closer every day
He sobbed once more and paused
Said the problems all were caused
When we let those Lefty bastards have their way

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