Category Archives: Verse

Cartooniverse

The Obama administration, through the Environmental Protection Agency, is partnering with the Parent Teachers Organization to launch a 6,000 school tour to teach kids about global warming and energy efficiency. The very thought of such a thing is staggering. What is the purpose of this? Obama Jugend? We’ve all seen the pictures of those little kids in Burlington, NJ singing “I love Barack Hussein Obama, mmm mmm mmm.” The perpetrators of this outrage speak smugly of it being a teaching moment. How about teaching them there is no such thing as man-made global warming, that the data was fudged, rigged to get the desired result, and that the earth a thousand years ago was much, much warmer than it is now, and this before the only harmful thing put into the atmosphere was an occasional cow fart. Why not teach them that for true energy efficiency we need nuclear electricity generating plants, something the lefties who scream for energy efficiency are steadfastly against. Why not tell the kids UFOs are real, or leprechauns lurk at the bottom of the garden? Why not teach the kids something that’s true, like honor thy father and thy mother and that the United States is a fair and decent country? For that matter, why doesn’t the president stop apologizing for the supposed sins of the United States, why doesn’t he stop betraying our friends and smiling at our enemies? The more I see and hear of the current administration the more I am convinced we live not in a rational universe but in a cartooniverse.  

 

 

When I see pictures from the Hubble

I oft times think I’m seeing double

Though clearly what I see’s our universe

Yet when I hear Obama say

Just blame it on the USA

I know we’re now in a cartooniverse

The stars that once were so aligned

And galaxies that God designed

Now seem to be awry and much displaced

The constellations come undone

With every word the mighty One

Delivers for the country he’s disgraced

He tells the UN that our past

Was wrong and he’ll see that at last

The US stops its harsh and brutal ways

And joins the peaceful countries that

Rule not by laws but by fiat

And that the world will then see better days

He’s sold Israeli people out

It’s Arab wants he cares about

He’s cut missile defense and Air Force planes

He wants the US cut to size

He wants us just like other guys

He says we’re just the same as Paks or Danes

He’s taken o’er the banks and cars

And set us up for rule by czars

And wants to bury health care for us now

Yes Hubble shows a different world

Where space is stretched and time is curled

And we’re in constellation Holy Cow

 

 

 

I Just Can’t Take It Anymore

We’ve all heard by now of Muammar Khadafy’s rambling and incoherent speech the other day to the United Nations General Assembly, a speech so full of inconsistencies and insane fantasies that Khadafy’s personal interpreter, brought to New York for the express purpose of relaying the Khadafy wisdom to the world, collapsed into incoherence himself after 75 minutes and screamed in Arabic into an open mike, “I just can’t take it any more!” One feels sorry for the poor man, and one wonders also what is going to become of him. Knowing how mercurial and easily offended Khadafy is, I sure hope this little lapse doesn’t cost him, his camels and goats and the rest of his extended family their lives.    

 

 

He said nothing could be scarier

Than tangled in the barrier

Of M. Khadafy’s language soaring on

For hours at a time when pinned

By syntax blowing in the wind

And lies and accusations boring on

I sympathize with this man’s plight

And hope that things will turn out right

And he and all his family survive

His honest and distress filled gaffe

The one that made Khadafy laugh

When crying into microphone alive

He couldn’t take it any more

And thus we wonder what’s in store

For such a man who made his master blush

I have the sense to his surprise

The man has hastened his demise

As M. Khadafy whispered there’s no rush

The car will be here in a trice

A little ride for you’d be nice

And you can think of me as you lament

Your outburst on this UN stage

That caused me to misplace my page

And say a few things that I never meant

Goodbye old friend you’ve served me well

But if you’re weak just for a spell

I fear that your employment’s at an end

I hate to do what I must do

The scimitar will strike well true

And as you go please think of me as friend

 

 

Victory Or Debt

The New York Times reports on the struggle between the White House and the General commanding in Afghanistan, Stanley McChrystal, over Afghan war policy. Some months ago President Obama fired General David McKiernan and appointed General McChrystal to win the war candidate Obama said was the good war, the war we should have been fighting instead of the bad war, Iraq. But now the president is having second thoughts about the goodness of the Afghan war, and looks to be getting ready to pull the plug. General McChrystal, in the meantime, has submitted a plan for winning the war, and has said he will resign if the president decides he does not want victory in Afghanistan. And since the president has saddled the taxpayers with massive trillions of dollars of debt into the long foreseeable future, it looks like the president has called for victory or debt, and has chosen debt, with or without honor.

 

 

General McChrystal will turn in his pistol

If Barack Obama won’t show

His Afghan intention and may we just mention

His attitude toward Qaeda foe

He said on the stump into Afghan he’d jump

And throw old bin Laden in chains

But now he’s as dubious as Varro and Publius

When told Hannibal’d made no gains

He’s thinking it over is Barack the rover

Who thinks he’s an eagle on high

But deep in the clover lies Barack the plover

Not sure which decision to buy

The problem with Afghan for Barack is he can

Not see where the politics lies

He’s afraid of his Left and so now he’s bereft

Of all but soft whimpers and sighs

 

 

Sugar And Spice

President Obama has surrendered to Russian demands to cancel our planned missile defense architecture in Poland and the Czech Republic, and has gotten nothing in return but more demands. The Russians are apparently still displeased with our continuing attempts to defend ourselves and Western Europe from Iranian nuclear tipped ballistic missiles. Poland and the Czech Republic have been sold down the river, and the Russian bear is looking hungrily at Ukraine and Georgia. Putin declares the former Soviet client prison states still belong to Russia, and the president of the United States agrees in abject surrender, a weakness that causes smiles of derision and contempt from the likes of Hugo Chavez who has just concluded a deal with Putin for Russian arms and nuclear technology. Khrushchev once gauged another young and inexperienced American president as weak and we got the Cuban missile crisis. Has Putin judged Obama the same? Are we looking at a future Venezuelan missile crisis? 

 

 

Ya gotta learn to scrape and bow

Obama’s firm voice soared

We surely can’t create a row

On that we’re in accord

We’re stronger than those other guys

Which means we must agree

That we are neither smart nor wise

Good politics, you see

We bow the head to Saudi kings

We scrape to Putin too

We promise Iran many things

We say that we will do

Whatever North Korea wants

Whatever China craves

We full embrace bin Laden stunts

From Pakistani caves

Our burden is to lead the world

In being firm but nice

We are no longer strength unfurled

We’re sugar now, and spice

 

 

We’re Number 25!

Adam Smith said, “There’s a lot of ruin in a nation,” leading Richard Fernandez at

The Belmont Club to observe, “That fact (that it takes a lot to ruin a nation) may console those who are bent on imposing their vision of fairness on the United States; the idea that however badly they hurt it, the United States wouldn’t fall any lower than number 25 in the world, a middling place with nothing particular to be proud of except for the fact that it was no longer number one. That’s a virtue in the eyes of some, who will ask what is wrong with being another Argentina if that is the price to be paid for ridding the world of the United States?”

 

 

What if we’re then the Argentine

That’s something with which we’d be fine

If that’s the price to pay for getting rid

Of US evil, US force

Of knocking Yankee off his horse

And turning over all to good El Cid

What has the Yankee done for us

Add up the minus and the plus

And you will find it’s negative at best

We have our vision brave and bold

To turn the USA of old

Into something rather like the rest

We’ve got our man in DC town

A president of great renown

A man to give the world a brilliant show

Just take a look how he’s begun

To knock us down from number one

It’s always money first the thing to go

Then tax and spend the middle class

To grubbing roots and eating grass

‘Til we’ve gone past the Argies far below

The world will be a better place

When we the world no longer face

The rabid, fearsome menace that we know

Without them now to keep the peace

We need but produce more police

Without them buying products that we make

It will be tough to get along

No doubt but we are surely strong

Enough to live on bread instead of cake

In time we’ll see that as they fall

That so as they then so as all

And while destroying them was so much fun

We all went down as they declined

And now we’re simply stunned to find

That after falling they’re still number one

 

 

Pootie Poot

President George W. Bush once claimed to have looked into the eyes of Vladimir Putin and found a friend he could trust, a friend of freedom and of the United States. President Bush even had a pet name for him: Pootie Poot. I have to believe the pet name has changed Mr. Putin’s good opinion of freedom and the United States, assuming he ever had those good opinions. But if he did, would you want the most powerful man in the world calling you Pootie Poot? Especially if you thought you were pretty powerful yourself? I thought not. Calling the man Pootie Poot was a mistake, and we are now paying for it. Fortunately for Putin, he has found an American president he can bully, and he is doing so, much to his apparent delight. Demanding that we stab our friends the Poles and Czechs in the back by canceling the missile shield is only the beginning. 

 

 

So Pootie Poot has won again

The Russian Tsar is smiling

The O is like a boy ‘mong men

Concessions he’s a-piling

The missile shield will never work

He claims with so much bluster

And since there’s darkness and much murk

I’ve used my strength to muster

Our allies and our foes alike

To sit around a table

And ask the Persians not to strike

At least not till they’re able

And we all know the reason why

The missile shield’s not needed

When Persian missiles start to fly

Towards Europe who’ve not heeded

All warnings of impending doom

From Persian nukes and missiles

We’ll send Iran after each boom

Some strong and sharp epistles

So I agree with Pootie Poot

That Europe is a goner

And after that we’ll split the loot

And have our peace with honor

 

 

Thoughtful And Civil

Irving Kristol, a left wing apostate and founder of the conservative neo-con movement, died recently at age 89. A columnist, journalist, writer and thinker, Irving Kristol has been called by some the most consequential public figure of the latter half of the 20th century. Naturally, immediately upon his death the radical left did what they do best. They celebrated. The left wing internet ran post after post of hateful, hate-filled rants, hurling excrement upon the still warm body of a man they hated. And why did they hate him? They hated him because he was once one of them, a communist sympathizer, a Trotskyist, a radical leftist, and he did the unthinkable. He ceased being a radical left liberal and devoted his life to the promotion of conservative causes and conservative thought, and apostasy is something the radical left cannot abide. But it’s all right. Mr. Kristol is beyond their reach, and always has been. Mr. Kristol is gone, but his ideas and ideals live on. Not so the ideas and ideals of the lunatic ranting left. The following is a letter received from one of those left-wingers, complaining of being misunderstood.      

 

 

You’ve printed my letter to Washington Post

Describing my glee at demise

Of one of the people I despise the most

And act with a so feigned surprise

That I could have written a scurrilous screed

About one so recently dead

Forgetting that he was the planter of seed

That led to George Bush, enough said

I strongly object to the way I’m portrayed

By radical right-wingnut commenters

Repelled by the sheer lack of grace that’s displayed

By racist and hate filled fomenters

And while I’m consumed by emotions of hate

And sniff at my opposite number

It’s you on the right who befoul the debate

With likes of that creep Joe the Plumber

And Sarah the Palin my god what a dope

And evil George Bush the destroyer

Of everything good in this country of hope

Including my Acorn employer

Thank goodness for people like Nancy and O

We need their firm guidance to lead us

And as I recoil from the stink of our foe

I thank god we’ve hatred to feed us

Those motherless bastards who sit on the right

Those divers of cesspool corruption

Deserve to be spit on till they see the light

And cheer on Obama’s eruption

Like burst on the scene to renew all our dreams

Of what our fair country could be

And when he is through everyone so it seems

Will be thoughtful and civil like me

 

 

Palin’ By Comparison

Have you wondered why the liberals, led by the mainstream media, have savaged Sarah Palin? Have you wondered why mummified teenagers like Maureen Dowd in the NY Times are relentlessly snarky, sneering at Sarah’s family, clothing, lack of an Ivy League degree and place of residence? Have you wondered why the Dems lose no opportunity to dismiss her as a lightweight, a stupid, ignorant yahoo? If you have, wonder no more. The answer is, she scares them. Scares the bejesus out of them. They know there is one candidate who can unite the fractured Republican party, energize the base and entrance the independents looking for real change, real governance, someone with smarts and energy and the good looks we seem to feel is necessary to win the presidency. They know and fear our very own Margaret Thatcher. And well they should. 

 

 

Our standard bearah

The gorgeous Sarah

Has energized the gentry

And all us proles

Who share her goals

With just a Facebook entry

With revolutions

And solutions

Labeled now by color

We think the One

Is one and done

He’s fading into duller

Tones that show

That he will go

As soon as Sarah’s ready

In 2010

Obama’s men

Will step off of a jetty

Election night

Will not be tight

A landslide for the ages

And we’ll regain

The fruited plain

And burn O’s darkened pages

 

 

Our Tortured President

The Obama administration has placed severe restrictions on the CIA in their ability to question captured high value terrorists. No longer will American lives be saved by pouring water up someone’s nose, a horrific torture according to the Democrats, a torture so heinous and unforgivable that not one person ever subjected to it has been injured in any way, either physically or emotionally. To combat the evil Bushie torture mongers, the President has turned the questioning of terrorists over to the FBI, who have no experience in questioning terrorists, being a law enforcement agency not an intelligence collection agency. But that is the point. The Democrats are determined that 9/11/2001 never happened, and we can all go back to September 10th. That way they will be fully justified in sending to jail anyone who dared to question a terrorist.

 

 

Obama now has set the tone

For terrorists to play by

They now have but to lift the phone

To find a pleasant way by

Hours spent in torture rooms

May pass in peaceful slumber

Knowing that no danger looms

Just rank and serial number

Of course Obama plays the game

Of being all above it

While passing on to Bush the blame

And his adherents love it

What happens though when danger threats

And CIA needs answers

And terror chiefs have placed their bets

That CIA are dancers

Around the rings now placed on them

By O and his lib minions

Restrictions cheered by each lib Dem

Regardless of opinions

Of most of us who know full well

That freedom is not easy

And sometimes men must practice hell

And do things that are queasy

But forceful measures are not for

Obama’s second stringers

They’d rather we die by the score

Than taint their dainty fingers

 

 

A Powerful Left

How did the radical left become so powerful? When did the people of the United States cede to a small group of radical left wing activists the right to decide what we ate, what we smoked, what kind of cars we drove, how much we weighed, or what we should think? How did the radical left get to decide that we should not drill for oil within our own borders but should remain enslaved to the Middle East? When did we give them the right to tell us we could not have electricity from nuclear power plants? What sort of society would allow a radical homosexual group to decide that kindergarten children should be introduced to the joys of homosexuality? Why have we allowed every tiny interest group that forms itself to tell our textbook publishers what they can and cannot say in their textbooks? Our entire lives, and the lives of our children and grandchildren, are governed by the wishes and desires of the radical left, who wish nothing but ill for the United States. The universities are filled with people of the radical left; the mainstream media is the mouthpiece of the radical left; the once great Democratic party, the party of Truman and JFK and Scoop Jackson and Daniel Patrick Moynihan, is now the captured love child of the radical left, represented in Congress by the likes of Maxine Waters and John Conyers, and in the radical Obama administration by the likes of Lloyd Clark and the now happily departed Van Jones. I grieve for the country I knew, a country that is no more.

 

 

The day is gone when Country stood

For God and truth and honor

But now we’re ruled by those who would

Bring harm and hurt upon her

I miss the day when free men ruled

Without three dozen czars

I miss the day when no one fooled

With stripes and field and stars

How did it come a tiny fish

Could cause the water flow

To farmers fields a distant wish

As whackos shouted No

How did it come we have the oil

To make our factories hum

But envirowhackos’ ceaseless toil

Keeps drilling rigs so mum

I miss the day when we could vote

For honest men and women

Who didn’t try to rock the boat

Till everyone was swimmin’

I know the good old days were not

As good as I remember

I just don’t like the ones we’ve got

And can’t wait for November

To run the lefties out of town

And bury them forever

And turning Lady Liberty’s crown

To democracy’s endeavor