Barack Hussein Obama offered us an emotional farewell State of the Union address Tuesday night, in which he lamented his failure to secure the entirety of the dream he had for us on entering office eight years before, a dream the particulars of which he did not elaborate upon, but we know what it was. Yes, we now know what his dream was.

He offered to exchange our dreams for his
And willingly we gave to him our soul
Not all of us, of course, bought all the fizz
Enough did, though, and voted for the whole
His dreams seemed so enchanting to the crowd
Who cheered his every word and every thought
Red Queens and empresses alike had bowed
To charms that are bestowed to those who brought
The people to exhale as he passed by
Young women faint in haste to touch his coat
And having touched they close their eyes and sigh
My lovely one, you have my throbbing vote
And so his dreams came to us in the night
Like hungry wolves whose red eyes burned with fire
And turned us into cowards in the light
All driven by his life’s blood red desire
To cut the stones of manhood from us all
To make of us castrati on our knees
To bend our will with but a single call
And rule without the law as he may please
The dream is ending, though the nightmares wend
The darker, deeper hallways of the mind
All leaving us to wonder in the end
If we deserved a dreamer of his kind
Dark dreams so menace-filled they stilled the breath
So terrible, so terror-filled condensed
We knew at very last he wished us death
With every blood-red dream that he dispensed

Immigrant Muslim men are sexually assaulting European women with impunity, for both the police and the governments refuse to admit that Muslim men are a problem, for the Left cannot ever admit to making a mistake. I spoke to President Obama today as he relaxed with a Kindle version of the Quran and asked about the rapes and fondling of surrounded European women by Muslim refugees. He smiled and said it was just an innocent game of taharrush, a game he himself had played as a boy. Nonetheless, he said, the game is a distraction from the main purpose of the invasion, which is the destruction of Western civilization. In a contemplative mood, he closed his eyes and softly said

Taharrush, a game that’s taught
To boys and so designed
To show that women can be bought
And sold, and now you’ll find
That fondling, flirting and the like
Is just a silly game
That boys like me when just a tyke
Played often without shame
It is however, out of place
In Europe at this time
We must give people there some space
Until the top we climb
The day will come that we destroy
The Western world so vile
And after which each man and boy
Will live in Allah’s smile
That greets the dawn in every clime
Throughout this wondrous life
Where gun control has vanquished crime
And more than one sweet wife
May greet a man at his front door
Discreetly burqa dressed
And fawn on him and what is more
Will never be depressed
A world where God’s sharia law
Holds everyone the same
And rape no matter red and raw
The woman is to blame
A world where Allah’s words will rule
And prayer five times a day
Where only boys can go to school
And girls at home must stay
How glorious does such as this
Shine bright in my mind’s eye
I have slight time to bring such bliss
But darn it I will try
I left him smiling in his chair
Eyes closed, his face benign
As if he did not have a care
Or had not seen the sign
That all his plans would matter not
That Allah’s time had run
That angry men would cleanse the rot
Muhammad had begun

The people of Europe are finally taking it upon themselves to stop the national suicide presided over by the European Left that encourages unlimited Muslim immigration that threatens to destroy two thousand years of European history and culture and the enslavement and destruction of the people themselves. The rise of recent European Saviors on white horses has always led to Leftist dictatorships such as Hitler’s National Socialism, Mussolini’s unbreakable socialist fasces, Stalin’s Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and many, many others. This time, though, the Savior will more than likely be of the Right. In either event, the result will likely be much the same; roundups and deportations of Muslim invaders of Europe, with armed clashes escalating to open warfare, no mercy shown, no quarter given, as in the past with Muslim Ottoman versus Christian Europe. We are seeing the beginning of the long awaited, long deferred clash of civilizations, with the ending as yet unseen and unforeseeable, both for the Muslims and for the Europeans.

White horses cast a golden glow
The Savior stiff and stern
Black hearses follow, moving slow
As millions wait their turn
To fill the tumbrels, join the line
Of designated foe
As fire sweeps the landscape fine
And mounded bodies grow
And in the end, a thousand years
In time will dim the sight
Of all the blood and flowing tears
That come with horses white

As this is written the Powerball payout is over 700 million dollars, and expected to hit a billion dollars by the time the numbers are drawn. The odds of Barack Hussein Obama getting something right are about the same as hitting the Powerball lottery, yet he presses on, undeterred in his quest to destroy us all. I spoke with the president recently and asked what he thought his chances were that all would come right in the end. He looked pensive for a moment, then smiled and said:

My policies are tottery
That’s why I play the lottery
The Powerball of life, says Susan Rice
We know how low the chance is
But that’s where the romance is
And if we hit it big that would be nice
The Brotherhood got nowhere
Beyond that vacant slow stare
That signifies a quite bewildered man
I speak not of myself, no
I’m not yet on the shelf, no
But things look bad in far Afghanistan
The Taliban and ISIS
Have set the world in crisis
With Valerie and I the world to mind
But confident that win it
Bless the Powerball to spin it
And the world will know I lead from my behind

The Mullahs in Teheran are very touchy about insults, perceived or otherwise, and they perceive the Saudi beheading of a Shia cleric named Nimr to be a grievous insult indeed. Not that they are morally against beheadings, but they are morally against someone beheading one of theirs. And so the simmering pot boils and if it boils over the Middle East may wind up with a lot of oil covered with a thick sheet of red-hot glass.

Teheran has just said howdy
To the infidel beast Saudi
And the Kingdom quakes like leaflets in the wind
As the pot begins to simmer
All because a guy named Nimr
Said some things that made the Saudis say he sinned
Now the Russians have their fingers
In the pot with Putin zingers
Being hurled about while China sits and waits
ISIS seems not to be dreading
The direction Barack’s heading
As the whole thing comes apart with failing States
Yes the writing’s on the wall and
Like the beach before a squall and
Like some kids who start a fight with stones and sticks
Things may well get out of hand and
Turn the desert blood red sand and
Find the Nimr on the wall is 666

We have all heard that had the same number of votes cast for McCain in 2008 been cast for Romney in 2012, Romney would have won the 2012 election. This has led many to speculate as to the reason so many Republican voters stayed home, preferring to see Obama continue his destruction of the country to voting for Romney. But maybe it wasn’t missing Republican voters but missing Republican votes in 2012 that re-elected Barack Obama. Almost all voting machines are now digital, with results sent to central servers rather than the votes being counted by hand from paper ballots. We know how easy it is for hackers to get into those servers, so why would we assume the Left would refrain from hacking the system and removing Republican votes from the totals in selected close races in swing states? The history of Leftist fascism, which is what we now are governed by, suggests they would do anything, legal or illegal, to retain power. What does this mean for 2016? It means the Republican vote must be on the order of Nixon 1972 to prevent a recurrence of the stolen election of 2012.

Those missing voters cast their votes
They simply were not counted
The Dems just smiled, took off their coats
And soon the Dem vote mounted
While GOP votes fell away
Deleted by Dem hackers
Votes cast, not counted, not today
Delighting Hussein’s backers
Where is the Repub hacking team
Why not counterattacking
If Dems can play, so it would seem
So could GOP hacking
The end is clear, the goal in sight
Each side’s whole vote deleted
All tied at zero through the night
And endlessly repeated
But what if only one side cheats
The Dems are known to do so
I’ll pack my bags and take clean sheets
And join Robinson Crusoe

The United States Congress has passed a bill allowing private companies to mine the asteroids of inner space, a bill that some predict will be the beginning of the exploration and colonization of space. I began reading science fiction in the 1940s when I was fourteen. In the 1950s Arthur C. Clark published The Exploration of Space, and we haven’t gotten there yet, probably because we do not yet hold in our hands the magic of a sufficiently advanced technology. We have a beginning technology that permits us, with enormous effort, to land men on the moon. All beginning technologies are different, but different in the same way. Early steamboats were always exploding until the technology caught up. Airplanes do not crash as often as they did in the early days, and people still died despite Salvarsan. And so it will be with the early days of inner space mining. What happens when a crew finds themselves marooned, unable to be rescued, doomed to circle the sun forever. Are they issued suicide pills for just such an eventuality? Do they take off their breathing apparatus and quietly die? Or do they hold onto life for as long as possible before starvation and thirst does them in? Interesting questions.

Marooned, the men sat quiet, still
And watched the lifeboat drift away
And knew they had some time to kill
Before they left for Judgement Day
What are their thoughts, their hopes, their fears
Would rescue come, would help arrive
Or would they stay in space for years
Until they’re found not one alive
To be brought home in TV’s glare
As heroes gently laid to rest
To enter God’s eternal care
Content that they had done their best

All young women are beautiful, but some take your breath away. Such a one is my granddaughter, twenty-three now, no longer the pretty teenager but a sophisticated, gloriously beautiful woman of the world

The smile will always be the same
The little girl on grammom’s lap
When all of life for her a game
Until it’s time to take her nap
She grew so quickly, time sped by
She rode her bike and climbed our tree
Her prom dress made her grammom cry
And now she’s grown-up, twenty-three
A thing of beauty and a joy
A laughing, loving woman child
The life before her but a toy
A plaything tamed from forces wild
To her the future is a land
Of promise filled with golden days
With sugar plums at every hand
And dreams that count the many ways
That life before her may play out
That as a child she could not see
Yet as she grew we had no doubt
And now she’s grown-up, twenty-three

Reality is an illusion, and so is delusion. Reality is not real, in the sense that it is predictable and inevitable. For Napoleon at Waterloo the reality was that he should have won, but actions have consequences, and consequences have actions. The delusion of Marshal Ney that Quatre Bras was strongly held and he was walking into a trap, and the delusion by Marshal Grouchy that Blucher was retreating, led to defeat. History is often a struggle between the two illusions of reality and delusion, with unanticipated consequences far into the future. The delusion of the Progressives in believing that the illusion of reality is real leads them to philosophical extinction, only to be replaced with another illusion. Why did the gods put Sisyphus, the king of Ethyra, to pushing a boulder up a hill for all eternity if not to teach us humility?

The reality of illusion
Is the cause of much confusion
As theorists believe the wrong one real
For Sisyphus the boulder
Grew in size as he got older
But in truth illusive time made him congeal
The Progressive belief system
Had set goals but always missed ‘em
For they reckoned not the gods were still at play
They believed they had the answers
But like careless gandy dancers
They see not the coming train nor step away

The family gathers ‘neath the tree
And carols ring so merrily
All waiting for the Christmas feast
And hoping that at very least
Dear Santa would have come last night
And left with present bag now light
We think of Christmas snow and ice
And of the tree that’s trimmed so nice
The presents heaped by fireplace
And lastly think that it’s God’s grace
That makes the day a special one
The birthday of His only Son

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL