Category Archives: Verse

Special Forces

The Afghan government has complained that United States Special Forces are killing too many Afghan civilians, and must be reined in. Lefty human rights organizations throughout the world have taken up the cry and are demanding the SOF gangsters be restrained or removed altogether. Of course, the principal complaint by both camps is that the Special Forces are too effective in taking out Taliban big shots, and the left cannot have that.

 

 

The SOF are gangsters

Say we at Human Rights

They leap about like pranksters

Just because they own the nights

They sneak about and kick down doors

And shoot the bad guys too

Not caring that the Left abhors

The bad things that they do

We lefties bridle at the thought

That these men, left unchecked

Will kill all Taliban uncaught

And our plans will be wrecked

Our plan to make the world a place

Where men can live in peace

Where right wing thugs can’t show their face

And democracy will cease

And on that note I’ll close for now

It’s night and what is more

The SOF are on the prowl

And kicking in my door

 

 

Three Days In Jerusalem

The city of Davenport, Iowa a few days ago declared they would no longer recognize Good Friday as a holiday. Not content with removing Good Friday from the holiday calendar, the city of Davenport instructed all to change the name of Good Friday to Spring Holiday, all at the urging of the Davenport Civil Rights Commission, who were obviously acting under the politically correct belief that any reference to Christianity would offend someone, somewhere, sometime. The city of Davenport may remove Good Friday from the calendar, but they can never remove Good Friday from the minds and hearts of those who accept the teachings of He who died that day.   

 

Update: The city of Davenport, Iowa, on Tuesday, 30 March, rescinded its order and reinstated Good Friday. Very big of them. But we have not heard the last of such attacks on Christianity. They will only increase, for the Left never sleeps; they want you to forget those days ever happened. But they did, and this is how: 

 

 

Down the stone laid street, past the jeering crowd

Whipped and scourged, thorn crowned and bloody browed

Prodded by soldiers, laughed at by some

Carrying his cross, His Father’s time come

On Calvary hill he laid the cross down

In the distance lay shining Jerusalem town

They nailed him by hands, a spike through his feet

Then raised the cross high in the afternoon heat

A legend was posted for all to peruse

Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews

The soldiers all laughed as the man hung his head

Casting lots for his clothes before he was dead

He asked for a drink and received a sharp spear

The blood and the water signaled death was quite near

His eyes raised to heaven, He cried out in pain

Oh Father, dear Father, I shall see you again

His ordeal was over, in tomb did He lay

While soldiers stood guard by night and by day

He lay there all day and the following night

But on Sunday morn, with the coming of light

He rose from the dead, His Father’s work done

And stepped from the tomb to greet the new sun

Announcing His presence to those he held dear

He told them His Father’s salvation was near

He ascended  to Heaven, his earthly life through

Having died for our sins, and for me and for you

 

 

Schrodinger’s Cat

Lockheed Martin is working on something they call Quantum Radar. The basic principle is that quantum physics implies that every particle has a twin, a doppelganger, and that if you can interact with a particle’s twin you can observe an object without ever looking at the original. Arthur C. Clarke famously observed that “A sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” So I guess it’s possible. But it seems a long way from Professor Schrodinger’s now famous thought experiment of the cat in the box.

 

 

Mr. Schrodinger! Where’s my cat?

I want to know just where he’s at

I saw him just a while ago

And you have got him, this I know

I hear him sir, he’s in that box

Be kind enough to loose those locks

How can this be, it’s empty now

And yet I clearly hear him meow

Ah there he is, he’s in your yard

I can just see him, looking hard

I’m not quite sure that I should mention

My cat has only one dimension

And there he goes, again he’s gone

He’s now on Mrs. Cratchit’s lawn

I’m leaving, sir, where is my hat

Good lord above, sir, what is that?

Oh no, I’m going in the box

Please sir, I beg you, not the locks

A doppelgang, that’s what you said?

Good lord what’s wrong now with my head?

I’ve paws and tail, dear lord, but how?

Please let me out, dear God……meow

 

 

This Land Is Mined Land

The United States government of Barack Obama and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton have thrown the Israelis under the bus for daring to contemplate building housing in their own country. Barack and Hillary seem to feel the Israelis have no right to consider the land of Israel as belonging to the people living there, not when it serves the Obama purpose of sucking up to Arabs. The Israelis live in a political and military minefield and Obama seems intent on forcing them to walk over it.

 

 

This land is mined land

This land inured land

Not California

Or the New York island

But they’re our friend, so

Don’t let it end, so

Barack we beg you

Don’t let them die

They won’t go quiet

They will not buy it

That they must heed to

Your slightest whim

If Iran acts now

Here are the facts now

The mid-east blazes

And then grows dim

 

 

The War Of Jenkins’ Ear

Penn State Professor Philip Jenkins, writing in The American Conservative, describes the Third World War as a war between Christians and Muslims. He doesn’t say who wins.

 

 

Along the line drawn in the sand

At the tenth degree of latitude

The old and new faiths take their stand

With quite a reversed attitude

For Islam, land that once was theirs

Is changing faiths today

A state of perilous affairs

For the Islamic way

Professor Jenkins seems to think

We’re on the Christians’ side

And posits that there is a link

With Western Christian pride

Professor Jenkins, I’ve got news

No Western pride exists

The West has no one in the pews

And Marxism persists

When Africans give up the gods

Their fathers loved and feared

For someone else’s faith, the odds

Are that that faith has seared

A fire in their souls that must

Have seemed to burn so bright

A faith of love and for the just

A faith of warmth and light

There is a war between the faiths

Says Mr. Jenkins here

Indeed there is, that’s why the wraiths

Whisper in professor’s ear

 

 

Playing At Empire

Robert Kaplan, writing in the Atlantic Monthly, seems to think success in Afghanistan will only lead to failure, and also seems to be uncomfortable with the American military being left unsupervised by their political betters. Someone once described the British Empire as being assembled in a fit of absent-mindedness. It looks like the American Empire is being assembled in much the same way, further disturbing Kaplan, who seems to think, or so it would appear, that we are children playing at empire.

 

 

Where did I put my tinkertoy

Who took my ball and glove

Children don’t build they just destroy

Raining death from above

People like Kaplan love to fret

Success just leads to ill

It seems good news he’s never met

I doubt he ever will

Who is the Kipling of today

That mildish, childish man

Who wrote of dawn and Mandalay

And the lure of far Afghan

Historians of far off years

Will look at us with awe

And say we wrestled with our fears

And gave the lawless law

 

 

The Writing Finger Having Writ

Professors are now banning laptops in their classrooms because of the constant distractions; some kids are surfing the web, some are watching porn, some playing games. A little ironic because not so long ago professors and teachers advocated computers in the classroom, and now they find themselves playing second fiddle to a touch pad.

 

 

No more the writing finger writ

No longer words on wall

A letter now is just a bit

In lecture’s empty hall

Professor at the lectern waits

His notes in easy reach

Until distracting noise abates

So he can once more teach

The problem is, to fill the gaps

The wired ones at least

Have much more info in their laps

The teacher having ceased

To be the one who must purvey

The knowledge and the facts

Beginning with the course survey

And on for several acts

Today a touch pad brings to men

The Universe complete

With Wi-Fi Solon lives again

Yo teach, you can’t compete

 

 

 

Ahmed The Bomb Maker

The Belmont Club has an interesting post on “getting left of the boom”, that is, getting the IED before it gets you.

 

 

Whistling an old Sinatra tune

Ahmed roamed the room

Intent on projects for the day

A few things to go boom

Sinatra songs just filled his head

Only The Lonely filled his mind

His wife, his love since she was twelve

Was doing him unkind

The IEDs were cooking now

Friend Yousef taking care

To see that nothing would go wrong

The danger they would share

His mind’s eye drifted back to her

To her new love, the thief

Who stole her gentle eyes from him

Aazad, the Taliban chief

Come Fly With Me, Aazad had said

In The Wee Small Hours they met

Then Yousef brought him back to earth

The fuses must be set

Revenge and rage filled Ahmed’s soul

His love, his wife, her vow

Aazad the Chief was not at fault

But trysts he’d not allow

Sinatra’s words played loud and clear

He’d live by Allah’s code

The IEDs were ready now

And soon they would be sowed

How many of them do you want

Friend Yousef said at last

And Ahmed strode straight for the door

The time was here so fast

Two Marvelous For Words, he smiled

And shouldered up his load

Just One For My Baby is all I need

And one more for the road

 

 

Will 2012 Be Too Late?

Paul Ryan, 40 year old five term Republican congressman from Wisconsin, has become the GOP leader on economic policy, a policy that attempts to stop the Democrat steamroller from driving the country into bankruptcy. Obama has already added over 2 trillion dollars to the national debt in just one year, and is projected to add over 10 trillion dollars more over the next few years. Paul Ryan says, “Within a few years a sale of government bonds will fail. The capital markets will go crazy, and the Fed and Treasury will run to Capitol Hill demanding a giant bailout. Adding Obamacare would make the crisis go deeper and arrive faster.” Well, we now have Obamacare, and the financial crisis will be much worse than anyone could have imagined. We need Paul Ryan, or someone like him, to drive a stake in the evil heart of Marxist socialism that is driving the country over the cliff. The problem is, 2012 may be too late, Obama may have succeeded before then in driving the country over the cliff, to smash in bloody fragments onto the rocks far below.

 

 

Paul Ryan is tryin’

To make sure it’s dyin’

And see that our Marxism’s dead

The party is over

We’re out of the clover

We’re all gonna work more instead

Entitlements finished

And welfare diminished

We’ll soon put the country on track

No longer will shirkers

Outnumber the workers

With Ryan our liberty’s back

Obama rejected

He could get elected

Both Marxist and Maoist he’d shelve

A man who is able

To clean out the stable

Paul Ryan in twenty oh twelve

 

 

A Bondian Aspect

Last Friday, before we got run over by Obamacare over the weekend, we began the saga of one Sulim Amadayev, the Chechen turncoat who was gunned down by the Russians in Dubai, killed by a man with a gold plated automatic, in a clear reference to Agent 007. Continuing the saga, the intriguing question is – will the Russians follow along the Bondian path? Will Russian assassins be reading the adventures of James Bond as they track down their prey? 

 

 

The Bondian aspect, golden gun

Reveals the fiendish clever fun

The Russkies have when playing out their games

We’ll very soon discover that

The next assassin used a hat

Like Odd Job tried to use on dapper James

Or how about the laser beam

A Dr No or Blofeld scheme?

Or maybe someone else who tried the deed

But Bond would even up the score

With romps with his Pussy Galore

Then when the plot got thick he’d intercede

But Bond was fiction, this was real

It had a kind of final feel

The Russkies don’t forget and don’t forgive

You cross those babies and you’re dead

In a garage or in your bed

When bought you stay if you expect to live