Category Archives: Verse

He Shoots, He Scores

We are all familiar with the graph that shows an abrupt rise in temperature from a flat base line. The graph resembles a hockey stick, and is now the basis of the entire global warming hysteria. But is it true? In 2006 the National Research Council was tasked by Congress to look into the data used to determine temperature rise over the past 1,000 years. The NRC looked at the data and concluded that there were some errors but the errors were of little effect. Global warming was thereby validated as fact. But a Canadian named Steve McIntyre, a science advisor to the Canadian government, was not so readily convinced. He asked repeatedly to see the original data, and was repeatedly denied. Finally, after years of struggle, he came upon the original data on which the so-called “hockey stick” graph was based, and discovered the data was cherry-picked to achieve the desired result. Of 252 tree ring cores in the original data set, only 12 cores were used, and those 12 were the only cores that supported global warming. The others either showed no change in global temperatures over the last 1,000 years or showed a decline in global temperatures. Why the con job? Who profits from the global warming hoax, whether monetarily or ideologically? Someone must, or it wouldn’t have happened.

Hockey sticks are made of graphite

And if you want to get the graph right

Ya gotta cherry pick your data set

So that you get the end point rise

That points the blade up to the skies

And global warming is the thing you get

We know it’s all a great big fraud

We smiled at Al when he hee-hawed

At Kyoto that soon the earth will steam

As temps rose quickly due to our

Enormous love for fossil power

We just assumed another Big Al scheme

And now we find the data’s wrong

They put in stuff that don’t belong

And got us all into a swivet stew

I wonder who’s the master here

Who’s pushing this the faster here

And I believe it’s only you know who

A movie set, a Nobel Prize

A noble brow and otherwise

Yes he’s the guy who’s running for the score

I think we know the answer now

With cap and trade the big cash cow

The gold will flow to our friend Big Al Gore

My Car, Please

When last Mullah Omar, the former Taliban leader of Afghanistan was in public view, he was in a car heading out of Kabul for Pakistan when spotted by drones. Permission to fire on the fleeing car was denied by lawyers in Washington on the grounds that somebody might get hurt. Mullah Omar made his escape, and now rules the Taliban from Pakistan through an organization called the Quetta Shura, which makes all strategic decisions for the Taliban. The Pakistan Intelligence Services, the ISI, is on the side of the Taliban, and does not want them destroyed, viewing them as useful for blowing up hotels in Mumbai among other things. The ISI is very powerful among the Pakistani military, and the Pakistani military is very powerful among Pakistani politics and politicians, and there is much pressure being brought upon President Obama not to increase troop strength in Afghanistan. It would appear this is why President Obama is now waffling on his commitment to destroy the Taliban and put Osama bin Laden in jail after a fair trial, in a civilian court of course. Is President Obama looking at Pakistani politics and measuring it against American politics? A fair question. As for Mullah Omar’s reaction to the American stance on Afghanistan, Verse-afire has come into possession of a letter written by an Omar aide to a colleague in the front lines in Afghanistan, which is reproduced below.

When Mullah Omar speaks to me

He speaks in terms of victory

And scorns the likes of those who demand peace

Where peace is just surrender-lite

And fear of darkness and the night

Lead western men to stop and holler “Cease!”

The Mullah often does relate

How Allah intervened his fate

When Ami drones were flying overhead

As racing in his car he feared

A missile soon would singe his beard

Yet missile never came as on he fled

He smiles now as he then recalls

How Ami lawyers had no balls

And cautioned that the missile be held back

For fear that someone might be hurt

And at this point he’s sometimes curt

In sneering at the courage Amis lack

In thinking that a war is won

By dropping warheads by the ton

While trying not to hurt a country’s pride

We fight the Ami to the death

We fight till we have no more breath

And soon the Ami will be Allah’s bride

We’ll win this war he says with scorn

For every death there’s ten more born

Who’ll grow to hate the Ami in his bones

We’ll take the fight to Ami’s shore

And show the light of Islam pure

And turn their cities into tumbled stones

The Saga Of Gundar Hafnilsson

Every October 12^th we celebrate the epic voyage of Christopher Columbus, discoverer of the New World. Or at least some of us do. Some claim the first European to reach these shores was not Columbus, but Leif Eriksson, some five hundred years or so earlier. Verse-afire has come upon a recently discovered ancient manuscript written by a contemporary of Leif Eriksson, a Norwegian seaman named Gundar Hafnilsson, a manuscript that throws new light on the controversy. If the manuscript is genuine, and I believe it is, then America was not discovered by Columbus or Leif Eriksson, but by Gundar Hafnilsson. The following is a translation from the Old Norse account, and clearly shows that, as always, the wrong man gets the credit. Damn shame.

THE SAGA OF GUNDAR HAFNILSSON

Gundar is my name

And thunder is my game

I sail the storm-tossed seas of ice and cold

I cross the ocean wide

Beyond the great divide

Once crossed by ancient mariners of old

To lands far in the west

Where once none would have guessed

That skraelings would have danced upon the shore

We landed in a bay

And gathered round to pray

And gave our thanks to god almighty Thor

We stayed for but a while

For thanks to skraeling guile

Those skraeling arrows did us greatly harm

We struggled to resist

And greatly did insist

We came thus not to conquer but to farm

The long trip home was tough

The sea was very rough

And many seamen took it quite unwell

With dragon ships awash

With pemmican and squash

The decks became aslick with every swell

When Norway we did reach

And stumbled up the beach

The first I saw was Eric’s first son Leif

Who bade me tell him all

Of every port of call

But mostly was the land of skraelings safe

I told him sadly no

‘Twas no kind place to go

The people there rent Viking shields apart

He sadly shook his head

And very calmly said

To England then, an easier place to start

These words upon his mouth

So saying he sailed south

To the fertile fields of Devon and the Thames

While I my crew did fetch

Every single wretch

And sailed we west for new world gold and gems

I quite concealed my glee

As we put out to sea

For having put one over on my friend

And put him off the trail

Of discovery’s holy grail

While my name rang from now to history’s end

And thusly’s how it came

The future shouts my name

From heavens high with pride and awesome wonder

Though discovery’s pride of place

Still calls for some small grace

I am proud to say my rightful name is Gundar

Knowing history does declare

‘Twas Leif who first was there

Such slings hurt only those poor souls who let it

For surely we’ve all known

That history has shown

Invariably the wrong man gets the credit

Yes Gundar is my name

And thunder is my game

And though my crew and I are getting old

We still sail toward setting sun

And till the quest is won

We shall sail the sea of ice and bitter cold

Yes, we shall sail the sea of ice and bitter cold

They Made Off With It

Madoff trustee Irving Picard is suing Bernie Madoff’s brother, sons and niece for 198.7 million dollars for using investors’ money as a piggy bank to furnish their lavish lifestyles of million dollar homes, boats, vacations and what-not. The 71 year old Madoff is currently serving a 150 year sentence for running the world’s best and most successful Ponzi scheme, and will be a very old man when he gets out. One wishes Mr. Picard much luck, and wonders if Mr. Picard is related in any way to the estimable Auguste and Jacques Piccard, inventors of the deep sea diving bathyscaphe, because he is going to need some real deep sea diving gear to find that money.

To steal from the rich and give to the poor

Is by and large accepted

But Bernie stole it from the rich

And then he went and kept it

So now he’s resting well in jail

A long term lifer inmate

As rich investors weep and wail

Like every other ingrate

Who thought she’d found a real good thing

An honorable investor

Who’d turn her dough to so much bling

She’d think that God had blessed her

So now the Madoff clan is sued

To try to get the money

That to the clannish hands accrued

Like falling leaves to honey

The trustee man we wish him well

He’ll need a deep sea diver

That dough’s so deep a diving bell

Won’t come up with a fiver

The Iranian Card

Continuing our revelations of yesterday of President Obama’s ultimatum to the Iranian mullahs in their October 1^st meeting, Verse-afire has received a copy of the notes taken by the Iranian interpreter, revealing what the president and the mullahs actually agreed to. From the president’s perspective, he had a win-win if he played his cards right. If he allowed the generals to continue the war in Afghanistan as they have proposed despite clamors from his left wing base to close it down, two things are possible, and both are politically helpful. If the war is won, he will get the credit, but if he closes down the war and there is another attack on the United States by Al Qaeda, then he will get the blame. So he must continue the war. The problem is, Afghanistan is landlocked, with the only land corridor to the fighting fronts through Taliban infested Pakistan. What Obama needs, if he is to dramatically increase troop strength, is safe and sure logistics, and that safe and sure route lies through Iran. What happened next was Realpolitick at its finest.

Obama said to the mullahs if you help me in the Stans

I will look the other way and let you formulate your plans

To rid the world and people of a certain you know who

Just be sure you don’t inform me so I won’t know what you do

The mullahs smiled and said sure Jack just tell us what you want

And O winked back and said he needed something he can flaunt

To show the public back at home he’s really on the stick

I’ve got to give them something big and this will do the trick

The guys I’ve got, the money men, he said with great disdain

Are causing polling numbers to go circling round the drain

So what I need is access to the Afghan seat of war

I need your ports, I need your roads, I need your help much more

Then I could state in simple terms because it’s so complex

And if you give me what I need I think we’ll clear the decks

For you to gain complete control of what you say is yours

And in the process make Israelis grovel on all fours

To grovel them is not our goal the mullahs winked and laughed

No doubt you think us crazy and no doubt you think us daft

But total ’nihilation is what this is all about

We don’t want them to holler and we don’t want them to shout

We want the sons of pigs and dogs in silent heaps to lay

So that is what we want and are you now prepared to pay

Done and done said O as he prepared to board his plane

I don’t know what you’re gonna do but if my numbers gain

You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours and when I leave the room

I’ll know you’ve kept your bargain when I’ve heard that great big BOOM

A Sternly Worded Ultimatum

After Iran admitted to the UN atomic energy lapdogs that they had indeed been building and using a second secret nuclear enrichment plant, President Obama jumped in and said he had known about it for months, and issued an ultimatum to the mullahs. He said, “Iran’s leaders must now choose – they can live up to their responsibilities and achieve integration with the community of nations, or they will face increased pressure and isolation, and deny opportunity to their own people.” What can we make of this sternly worded ultimatum? The mullahs have already demonstrated they have no interest in achieving integration with the community of nations, have no fear of increased pressure or isolation, and smile at the idea that they might care about denying opportunity to their own people. The president of the United States has in effect given Iran the green light to proceed unimpeded with development of nuclear weapons with which to obliterate Israel and command the Middle East.

We thank you, Barack

For taking us back

To the great days of Carter of Plains

A man now reviled

As the man who once dialed

Back a full half a century of gains

There are those who believe

That it’s righteous to grieve

For the days of inflation malaise

Which you will soon again

Bring to your countrymen

And which I am the first one to praise

In addition to which

I approve of your switch

From our allies to friends with our foes

Both the Poles and the Czechs

Must do as Putin becks

And Israelis their settlements must close

I most heart’ly applaud

Your near trip abroad

To the UN where Iran was told

That if they persist

In their nukes we’ll insist

That the next time they do it we’ll scold

That’s the way to be firm

Just your tone makes them squirm

Like Jimmy when fighting the rabbit

You’re a lot like James Earl

You fight like a girl

And when seeing a friend near you stab it

Flyin’ The Ointment

To continue yesterday’s saga of the failed presidential mission to convince the International Olympic Committee to award the 2016 games to Chicago, the liberal glitterati on Air Force One returning from the meeting did not take the news of their defeat at all well. No one conceded that Brazil and Rio de Janeiro had a legitimate claim on the prize. No, they lost because the hated George Bush had poisoned the well of international relations to such an extent that the IOC could not bring themselves to even consider giving the 2016 games to a country that could produce a George W. Bush. And to make matters worse, press accounts indicate the intercom was not functioning well, no doubt the fault of George Bush as well. After all, had he not taken several trips on that very same airplane?

The intercom on Air Force One

Crackled as they raced the sun

Across the wide Atlantic dimly seen

Assembled Dems and friends of O

Gathered for the blow by blow

Surrounding their Chicago king and queen

Oprah shouted out in glee

That when the whitesheet IOC

Trembled when they heard Obama speak

She knew the game was now in hand

They’d won again and full command

Was clearly in the grasp of all they seek

The crackling voice gave all a scare

They heard the fragment “de Janeir”

And wondered to themselves what did it mean

“It means Bushhitler’s still alive,”

Obama cried, “no mat I strive

To cleanse our country of his rotten name

It’s clear those white folks won’t accept

That black folks run the world except

For the every four year ‘Lympic game”

The saddened libs returned to seats

To mutter oaths and bitter bleats

Still blaming Bush for all that could go wrong

Then music made the big man frown

As Frank sang Chi is my home town

And Obie screamed to shut down that damn song

Chicago, My Home Town

On the flight back from Copenhagen, returning from an impassioned plea by President Obama to the International Olympic Committee, the distinguished passengers on Air Force One learned with astonishment and disbelief that the president had failed to bring the 2016 Olympic Games to his home town of Chicago. The glittering array of liberal star-power, including Oprah Winfrey, was stunned to hear they had not even made the cut. President Obama, however, put a happy face on the news by relieving himself of all blame, laying the fault at the clay feet of George W. Bush, saying Bush had so alienated the entire world that they were still taking it out on the United States, despite he, Barack, having striven mightily over the past nine months to repair the damage, all to no avail, so deep and black were the sins of the Bush administration toward the rest of the world. This explanation of his failure was of great comfort to his fellow travelers, but calmer heads knew the real reason: he had offered the International Olympic Committee his smile and charm, but they wanted cash.

He promised them Lake Michigan

Threw in Milwaukee too

He said they need but wish again

He’d see what he could do

About O’Hare and Wrigley Field

They’d have it if they cared

He was prepared to quickly yield

If lists were just prepared

That stated what the IOC

Would take to give the games

To his home town he’d pay the fee

All for Olympic flames

They told him money was the price

Not lakes or baseball yards

They told him once they told him twice

It wasn’t in the cards

Cash on the barrelhead is king

They said with knowing smiles

You’ve come to us without a thing

But politicians’ wiles

Fine speeches won’t advance the day

That we accept your bid

It’s pay to play Chicago way

In back rooms so it’s hid

They told him if he got the dough

They’d see if he could play

And meet at a garage they know

On next St. Valentine’s Day

The Way To Dusty Death

Richard Fernandez, at the Belmont Club, writes of the Obama administration’s failed policy in Iran in terms of Shakespeare. He wonders which Shakespeare we will get when it becomes painfully obvious, even to the Obama administration, that the policy of appeasement and engagement has failed, and Iran is on the verge of becoming a nuclear power intent on destroying Israel and commanding obeisance from her neighbors. Will it be the Shakespeare of Julius Caesar?

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, lead on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries;

On such a full sea are we now afloat

And we must take the current when it serves

Or lose our ventures.

Or MacBeth?

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death

Which will it be? To stand firm in the face of Iranian aggression or meekly submit, telling ourselves it will all work out in the end? Caesar or MacBeth?

Out damn spot! he cried in rage

And kicked the dogcan down the road

He reckoned not the Stratford sage

Had long ago those words bestrode

How had he failed, this wondrous tongue?

Had he not the beaming smile?

Had he not the welkin rung

With words that sang to God the while

He humbly asked for guidance from

Assembled potentates from lands

That altogether made the sum

Of feudal tribes and wand’ring bands?

True I talk of idle dreams

Which are the children of an idle brain

Begot of nothing but vain fantasy

And yet I hear the muted screams

Of those who are beset by pain

Who look to me to bring some sanity

To this cruel world of sticks and stones

And hidden meanings in their eyes

It may be that no man atones

For pain with wringing hands and sighs

We shall not stay our hand or will

We shall prevail and save the world

From all who wish us well or ill

We’ll leave no oyster yet unpearled

Adrift my policy doth swell

That I could change it with a wand

They say I love myself too well

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond

A Four Letter Man

A few nights ago David Letterman admitted, on air, to having sex with female staffers, after receiving an extortion note from a CBS executive demanding 2 million dollars or he would tell the whole sordid story to a breathlessly awaiting world. Dave played the whole thing for laughs and it wasn’t until he fully explained what was going on that the audience realized it wasn’t a skit. At which point they laughed and applauded. The extortionist has been arrested and pleaded not guilty to having sex with Dave’s staffers.

Admitting to sex with his staffers

Our Davey says it was just laughers

Because I’m the boss

It’s me or job loss

And if not me than one of the gaffers

When story broke Dave took confessing

To new heights when he said that messing

With dames in employ

Made him naughty boy

And asked for the audience blessing

The people did cheer and applaud

Dave’s actions they clearly did laud

Now here’s my belief

It was all in relief

That Dave slept with Claudine not Claude