Category Archives: Verse

High Noon At The Ethics Committee

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Congressman Charley Rangle, D-NY, is in the news again, the House Ethics committee looking into some shenanigans having to do with cheating on his taxes and other assorted stuff politicians always take for granted that they don’t have to do. Charley explained his failure to pay his taxes on his being unable to understand the tax code, which is mildly humorous, since Congressman Rangel chairs the powerful House committee that writes the tax rules for the rest of us. Charley Rangle has always, to my mind, been one of the good guys, not a hater like some of his Democrat colleagues, but more interested in the perks associated with being a powerful politician. But now the sheriff is after him, including the High Sheriff. President Obama has suggested rather forcefully that Charley resign, since he would no doubt be an impediment to the Dems keeping the House this November. In addition to the president, many of his colleagues have urged him to resign, but Charley just grins and says he hasn’t done anything wrong, and in his mind, he hasn’t. Yes, the sheriff is after him. There’s a big Wanted Dead Or Alive poster in the sheriff’s office, with Charley’s picture on it.

 

 

The sheriff moseyed up the street

Boots kicking up the sand

The Wanted poster of the cheat

Gripped firmly in his hand

He’d seen that face ride into town

And head for the saloon

A smiling face, a tiny frown

The time was just high noon

A-past the swinging doors he strode

His six-gun at his hip

A-past the horse the stranger rode

Still sweaty from the trip

He saw his quarry in the dark

A-standin’ at the bar

His voice commanded in a bark

Just stand right where you are!

I’ve come here to arrest you, sir

For cheating on your taxes

You’ll spend a goodly time in stir

Depending what the max is

The man looked up and smiled a smile

Said you know who I am?

It’s well for you I do not rile

Or you’d be in a jam

For I’m beloved Congressman

Chuck Rangle from New York

And I’m the guy who writes the plan

For guys like you who work

Must follow under pain of law

The penalties are clear

No matter how quick is your draw

You’ll serve at least a year

But none of this applies to me

Because, son, I’m your better

So you can not arrest me, see

But you can write me a letter

With that he put his shot glass down

And climbed upon his horsey

And headed north for New York town

Though he’d have to cross New Jorsey

 

 

The Orb Spider

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The Washington Post has completed a two year survey and review of America’s intelligence gathering since 9/11, mostly, they claim, by simply examining public records, and aggregating the data. Or, as we simpler folk would say, connecting the dots. But all intelligence is connecting the dots, whether Military Intelligence or plain old human intelligence. But once you’ve got the dots connected, how do you keep them connected, how do you keep them from coming apart again? Enter the orb spider.

 

 

The sheer tensile strength of the orb spider’s web

Is many times greater than steel

She sits and she waits for her dinner to come

Stirring thrums in the web she will feel

Then she pounces at once with a motion so quick

That the eye cannot follow the leap

And the dot is enclosed in the orb spider’s silk

That she’ll toss on the top of the heap

Connecting the dot to the others she’s stored
All tied with her strong silken knots

She never does sleep and she never does rest

She’s kept busy connecting the dots

 

 

Hussein Imperator

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In less than two years President Obama has nationalized the automobile industry, the banking industry, distributed hundreds of billions of taxpayer dollars to his union constituencies, overridden the Constitutional provision of Congressional approval of Cabinet appointments by appointing more than three dozen non-confirmed czars to oversee the Executive department, plus trillion dollar stimulus bills and bailouts causing trillion dollar deficits as far as the eye can see, and has nationalized the best health care system the world has ever seen. Last year the House passed President Obama’s national security force youth bill, heeding candidate Obama’s call for a youth group of millions of volunteers, to be equipped, in the president’s words, as well as the military. From Acorn to mighty oaks. The Obama Jugend has not yet taken to the streets because Obama has yet to decide on the color green or brown for the uniforms. In any other country, and at any other time, this would be called fascism, a charismatic autocrat with a rubberstamp parliament. But the mid-terms will be here in three months, and with them the loss of Obama’s overwhelming majority, and thus his power to destroy the country. Will Obama permit this to happen? Will we see, in the next month or two, a hastily called press conference with Robert Gibbs emotionally reading an address to the people of the United States from President For Life Barack Hussein Obama? Will we see Mr. Gibbs cry with unbound joy as the Washington press corps rises as one in thunderous adulation? Will we hear the following words from Mr. Gibbs?  

 

 

My fellow Americans, I bring you tidings of greatest joy. Our beloved president, Barack Hussein Obama, has proclaimed the following words shall be read and memorized throughout the land:

 

With whose eyes shall we see the world

There are those who will see the world hollow

With whose mind do we see fellow man

There are those who will tempt us to follow

They will smile and attempt to arrange

Your thoughts and your life and your time

By promising comfortable change

And it won’t cost you one single dime

Oh they know how to work it so well

They know every button to push

But know that the road leads to hell

I speak of that road built by Bush

We’re now in a crisis, they’ll shout

Obama is moving too fast

Only we know what it’s all about

The One’s promises surely won’t last

Yes, that’s how they speak ill of us

But we’ll save you in spite of your fears

Just know that we’re driving the bus

And we’ll be at the wheel many years

We’re creating a new nation here

A nation we’re all proud to serve

A nation we all hold so dear

That we tingle the end of each nerve

Which is why we’ve decided on this

That elections are truly passé

Now the robe of your Caesar you’ll kiss

Though we’ll still have an election day

While you won’t vote you won’t really care

It’s the symbol that really does count

With these purple hemmed togas I wear

I’ll look swell sitting here on the mount

 

 

The Past Will Always Be With Us

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The New Republic has published an introspective of the Afghan war in the form or essays by nine intellectuals, and the Belmont Club has joined in the discussion. My own feeling is that the intellectuals miss the point, which is that the Afghans do not wish to be brought into the twenty-first century, nor any other century. They like things as they are, and will fight fiercely against those who try to change them. Alexander, the Moghuls, the British, the Russians, and now us, have all tried to conquer Afghanistan, all tried to pit one tribe against the other and thus gain control, all without success. We must remember that the past is here to stay, we cannot change it, we cannot erase it, we can only try to remember it.

 

 

We cannot wish the gun unfired

Reverse the call that got us mired

The past is past and by the way

The past is here and here to stay

You cannot win without the will

You cannot bid the earth be still

You cannot call the tribesmen mate

Unless you wish to share their fate

Afghanistan is of the past

An ancient world, one of the last

Where tribe and family is the law

And life is brutal, short and raw

They do not wish to be like us

Nor like the Brits nor like the Russ

Leave them be to live their lives

The Alexanders and the Clives

All failed and left without a clue

It’s time we bid them all adieu  

 

 

From The Oval Office

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Is Obama driving the ship of state straight to the bottom? Read the following advance text of Obama’s speech to the nation next week and judge for yourself.

 

 

My American friends, I come to you

From Oval Office with a view

Of beautiful and unspoiled yet DC

The buildings here are simply grand

And walking slowly on the Strand

Is something that is comforting to me

But there are snakes in every room

And righty whiteys crying doom

They claim that I am trying hard to break

The country down onto its knees

For all my lefty friends to please

But I assure you everything is Jake

Of course there’s some things on the ropes

Extinguishing our changey hopes

And all the fault of madman Georgie Bush

My plan’s in place, I’ll do my best

To see this clear, I shall not rest

My vision for us needs just one more push

My staff is Marxist to the core

And so we have much more in store

With Acorn and the unions we’ll prevail

With gulf oil crisis we’ve been blessed

We’ve seen the population stressed

Our plan of course is letting BP fail

Our power needs will soon be met

By solar mirrors on the net

Providing all the energy we need

For sunshine puts a happy face

On jobless workers we replace

With foreigners who’ll soon be up to speed

And lastly friends, this you should know

That space and science we forego

And NASA’s job is now to reassure

Our Muslim friends that just because

They’re backward and with murd’rous laws

That that condition’s only just du jour

In closing friends I’ll only say

That starting now, this very day

The White House as it was will not be back

For I intend to stay a while

For many terms and so my style

Demands that I must paint the damn thing black

 

 

The First Tuesday After The First Monday Blues

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Various liberal propaganda organs, like the Washington Post and the Huffington Post, have recently and rather decorously questioned some of the things their hero has done and not done that he has promised to do and not do. There is a small stir in the left-wing blogosphere, where usually tight-lipped ranters are delicately asking if the Messiah has not in fact quite lived up to their expectations. He has not, for instance, to this point surrendered the United States to its enemies as they fervently wish for, nor has his gutting of missile defense satisfied them. His promise to destroy the best health care system in the world looks to be in peril if the Repubs regain the House in November, and his giving of billions of taxpayer stimulus dollars to the unions to insulate them from the perils of the marketplace, while laudable from their point of view, has not as yet accomplished their goal of destroying the evil capitalist financial system that has made the United States the envy of the world, and indeed, the recently passed Financial bill, while a step in the right direction, does not accomplish it either. The acolytes are beginning to stir, however reluctantly. Are we seeing the beginning of a serious left-wing buyers remorse? Will November 2010 see the beginning of the end for the Left?    

 

 

Where does hope go when it’s gone

What is left when there’s no change

When will facts then finally dawn

On his fans that Obie’s strange

Lack of failure up to now

To enact his promises

Means that when he breaks a vow

There’re more doubting Thomases

What’s the difference between Bush

Who the liberals truly hate

And Obama’s Hindu Kush

Where’s the policy debate

Yes he’s done some things they crave

Like his stripping of defense

And his mighty union cave

And his acts ‘gainst common sense

Like his running up the debt

To a height not seen before

But they really do not get

Why he’s in that Afghan war

Oh he’s still the coolest guy

And the smartest one in town

But they’ll tell you on the sly

That he’s really let them down

 

 

A Trillion, With A T

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The Associated Press is reporting that the budget deficit for this year is projected to be 1.47 trillion dollars. That’s TRILLION. Back in the 1950s, Senator Everett Dirksen, (R-IL), was an eloquent speaker for fiscal restraint. A most effective speaker, a true old-fashioned, crowd pleasing orator, he inveighed against any and all spending by the government he thought unnecessary, which was most of it. He remarked sadly, one time, that “a billion here and a billion there and pretty soon you’re talking real money.” That in a day when a billion dollars was indeed real money. It is amusing to speculate what Senator Dirksen would say of the Obama administration and the Congress spending such unthinkable sums on handouts to unions and Wall Street and other favored Democrat constituencies. Will the Chinese continue to buy our bonds? How long before we go the way of Greece and Portugal?

 

Senator Dirksen was known to declare

In a voice fairly dripping with honey

That a mere billion here and a mere billion there

And soon we are talking real money

Ike then was prez though his syntax did irk us

He balanced the budget for sure

But now we spend money for things like this circus

And smiling they come back for more

Where will it go and where will it end

Obama is digging a hole

The bigger it gets then the more they will spend

And soon we’ll all be on the dole

Trillions in debt for as far as may be

Our grandkids will work for no pay

For taxes will rise like the incoming sea

 And rue that far gone ‘lection day

 

 

The Archaeologist

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Reuters examines the increasing racial divisions brought about by the election of the first black president, and the increasing hollowness of Obama’s claim to be a post racial president.  Young women and independents voted for Obama in large part because of his claim that he would salve the wounds of racial divide that some saw as pervasive in American society.  Instead, those wounds have gotten worse, and Obama is largely to blame, with the result that Obama’s poll numbers among his most ardent white supporters in 2008 have dropped alarmingly, alarmingly if you are a Democrat.  At the Belmont Club, Richard Fernandez has already called Obama a relic from the past.

 

 

A likely spot, the digger said

Some pottery, some tools

Museum stuff, now long time dead

New lessons from the fools

Who thought that it would never end

That good times rolled along

That they would have all they could spend

And never play the song

That ends with sorrow and with tears

And anger and no jobs

And life gets bitter with the years

Replacing Marx with Hobbes

These relics show how much they thought

Of those who paid the bills

They counted only votes they’ve bought

And now we have these hills

Of relics from the golden age

Mold filled and piled up high

Obama’s prints on every page

Passed always sine die

The diggers sweep away the dust

From bills no one could lift

And monuments turned red with rust

When end came it was swift

 

 

Der Risen Kavalier

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The Belmont Club has an interesting piece on the Sherrod case, the black woman fired and then rehired as the White House panicked and thought Fox News was going to bash them for her seemingly racist comments and wanted to get out ahead of the story, and then found out she hadn’t made any racist comments and had to backtrack.  Richard Fernandez, at the Belmont Club, likens the whole thing to an opera, possibly the Marx Brothers A Night At The Opera, and couples it with the revelation that 400 journalists conspired to keep the public from hearing about the reverend Wright during the 2008 presidential campaign.  I liken it to Der Rosenkavalier, in which, in our opera, Der Risen Kavalier, Obama, risen above his capabilities, has driven the country over a cliff, and sings about it with the help of the journochorus.       

 

 

DER RISEN KAVALIER

 

Enter stage left, the Journochorus

To the tune Love Is Here To Stay

 

It’s very clear, our love is here to stay

Not just this year, but ever and a day

They say our papers may crumble

Our ratings may tumble

When people have their say

But our love is here to stay

 

To the sound of only left hands clapping, Harry Reid sings, to the tune I’ve Got Rhythm

 

I’ve got sixty, I’ve got sixty

I’ve got sixty, who could ask for anything more

Don’t like health care, what do I care

I’ve got sixty, and we’ve got more like it in store

 

The orchestra swells, the lights go dim, as the risen knight, Der Risen Kavalier, strides to center stage, and sings that enchanting aria, Chicago, joined by Harry and the Journochorus

 

Chicago, Chicago, that toddlin’ town

The country, the country, I’ve turned it around

Every little piece of the pie I have given

To my many friends who are livin’

In Chicago, Chicago, my home town

 

The curtain comes down to riotous applause, and the audience files out into the night, as darkness closes in.

 

 

The Singularity

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It has been said that time is nature’s way of seeing that everything doesn’t happen all at once. But what if everything did happen all at once, and time is just a perception, what if the universe runs on different rules than we, and Julius Caesar is alive and well, at least until the Ides.

 

 

Julie, kid, why did you cross

That river on that day?

To change the world, to change your luck?

Collect your owed back pay?

But did you know, as you got wet

Another man set sail

In tiny ships and headed west

While elsewhere one more nail

Went through the wrist and it was done

They crowned a man who tried

To teach us all what honor means

And for that crucified

At Valley Forge they froze and starved

While elsewhere brave men flew

The bombers that brought freedom home

The brave, the proud, the few

And while these things are going on

Concurrently it seems

A million billion more are busy

Living out their dreams

An instant to the universe

When all that happened did

Look heavenward, the stars are us

Step lightly, Julie kid