The dispossessing of native inhabitants by newcomers is as old as every species, animal or vegetable, and is possible only when the invading species is superior in some way to the native species, if only in numbers. In recent experience the replacement of the native European population by a foreign species, the North African muslim, is proceeding by the demographic process of rising muslim birthrates and falling European birthrates, the replacement abetted, condoned and encouraged by the ruling European elites. A different kind of displacement of native inhabitants in North America occurred when a modern, industrialized and technologically superior species arrived in North America in the early 17^th century and displaced the native population of Neolithic people who had arrived from northeast Asia over the Bering Strait land bridge during the last ice age, and never acquired science or technology, being unacquainted even with the wheel when the Europeans arrived. For those who wish for visitors from other star systems, you may be disappointed in the quality of life in your reservation.

Yes, I’m superior to you
In every way that’s measured
In culture and in science too
In short, in all you’ve treasured
My guns are better than your spears
My tanks than all your horses
And so it is like this, my dears
You bow to stronger forces
My gods are wiser than your gods
My women greater beauty
My armies conquer despite odds
For conquest is our duty
Be thankful that we are now here
To guide you and to teach you
And should you hide a single spear
Well we know where to reach you

I remember well when as a lad
I climbed the front yard tree
Aware the freedom that I had
To see what I could see
The vacant lot where I played ball
The house where I did live
My memories complete recall
But now a battered sieve
Oh I recall things of the past
The stand my father made
The table top that seemed so vast
Where I sold lemonade
And I recall the whole darned cast
Of the Johnny Carson show
I watched it all from first to last
And sad to see him go
Apart from that the past is mist
Dim shadows faintly seen
I fail to see why some insist
That mem’ry must be keen
I do all right as I sit here
Unbound by passing time
Thesaurus and a mouse quite near
To make of life a rhyme

The wave of populism sweeping the United States and Western Europe is the result of decades of abuse, disdain and contempt by the left for the people who work, pay their taxes and salute the flag. In the United States the Democratic Party lies writhing in the streets, a rotting, stinking corpse. From the election of Franklin Roosevelt in 1932 until the election of Richard Nixon in 1968, the Democratic Party was dominant politically, economically and culturally. But after the loss of the 1968 elections the Democratic Party was captured by the Radical Left, and that led to the conservative southern Democrats to switch allegiance and become Republicans, which led inevitably to what the Left always does when it gains power, it becomes ever more radical, even as power slips away, leading to violence and insurrection. All of which leads also inevitably to writhing and shrieking in the streets, only dimly aware as yet that they are a rotting, stinking corpse. In Europe the common people have risen against rule by unelected leftist bureaucrats and a childless political leftist elite that seems determined to turn their countries and their culture over to strangers. In both the United States and Europe the populist wave is fueled by anger and revulsion by the common people finally fed up with being spat on and strangled by leftism and its ever more fascist ideology.

The US Left is not the first
But they may be the very worst
The Federalists gave up the game
The Anti-Federalists the same
The Whigs have come and they’re no more
And now the Dems add to the score
In Europe Brussels calls the tune
But they’ll be gone and none too soon
Westphalia will rise again
Restored by hardnosed fighting men
Leftism leads to writhing death
With shrieks of pain-filled dying breath
Leftism always rots and warps
Until it’s just a stinking corpse

It has been said that a newspaper is a living thing, and since all living things die, the passing of the newspaper is a natural event, and to some, even a sad event. But all living things cycle through the stages of birth, adulthood, joint pain, senility and death. The American newspaper is now in the stage of terminal senility, and there is nothing to be done except to make them comfortable until the end.

All things must die, some die in pain
Some die with ease, and some would fain
Not die at all, but struggle not
And silent die, as is their lot
The day must come, the night must pass
The graveside mourn, the solemn mass
It all must end, the circle rhymes
But I’ll not miss, the Post or Times

It has been said that a newspaper is a living thing, and since all living things die, the passing of the newspaper is a natural event, and to some, even a sad event. But all living things cycle through the stages of birth, adulthood, joint pain, senility and death. The American newspaper is now in the stage of terminal senility, and there is nothing to be done except to make them comfortable until the end.

All things must die, some die in pain
Some die with ease, and some would fain
Not die at all, but struggle not
And silent die, as is their lot
The day must come, the night must pass
The graveside mourn, the solemn mass
It all must end, the circle rhymes
But I’ll not miss, the Post or Times

Some said that if the world is ending one day
It might as well be on a rainy Monday
While others said if there’s a get to choose day
They’d much prefer it happened on a Tuesday
Some shrugged and said it really all depends day
As long as it is not an Ifs but Whensday
But many thought there couldn’t be a worse day
Than have the world be ending on a Thursday
The fatalists chose not a reason why day
But hoped it would not happen on a Friday
Some felt there really couldn’t be a badder day
That ruining the weekend meant a sadder day
It seems that if the world is ending one day
We’ll all be sleeping in some gloomy Sunday

I do not understand this compulsion of some, particularly those in authority, to constantly apologize, even when apologizing for something they, personally, did not do. Why this sudden effusion of regret?

I don’t keep track of my regrets
Not even when the tension gets
So high that I can’t stand the pain
I stay composed, that much is plain
Except of course for those that keep
Me up all night and cannot  sleep
But those regrets are always small
Not worth a mention, not at all
Except for those that sometimes loom
As ghastly shadows in my room
That cause a haunting, daunting doom
And trembles come in darkened gloom
As thoughts of what I once thought hid
Or worse of thoughts of what I did
Back in the day when I was  young
And not like now, so highly strung
That every tittle, every jot
Of word and thought I had forgot
Comes flooding in like thundering tide
And drowning with no place to hide
I lie awake and count the ways
That wrong decisions always pays
In coin of loathing and despair
In spite of which I do declare
That I’m as certain as it gets
That I, thank God, have no regrets

I do not understand this compulsion of some, particularly those in authority, to constantly apologize, even when apologizing for something they, personally, did not do. Why this sudden effusion of regret?

I don’t keep track of my regrets
Not even when the tension gets
So high that I can’t stand the pain
I stay composed, that much is plain
Except of course for those that keep
Me up all night and cannot  sleep
But those regrets are always small
Not worth a mention, not at all
Except for those that sometimes loom
As ghastly shadows in my room
That cause a haunting, daunting doom
And trembles come in darkened gloom
As thoughts of what I once thought hid
Or worse of thoughts of what I did
Back in the day when I was  young
And not like now, so highly strung
That every tittle, every jot
Of word and thought I had forgot
Comes flooding in like thundering tide
And drowning with no place to hide
I lie awake and count the ways
That wrong decisions always pays
In coin of loathing and despair
In spite of which I do declare
That I’m as certain as it gets
That I, thank God, have no regrets

I was okay with the invention of the printing press and telephone, I was cool with the invention of the horseless carriage and the aeroplane, but I wonder if perhaps we have not gone too far with the invention of the smart phone, the drone, the robot and artificial intelligence. What happens when we find that our android and replicant masters really do dream of electric sheep? What do we do when robots, as confidently predicted, replace all human workers from the factory floor to clerking for Supreme Court Justices? Maybe it all ends with the imminent invention of the antimatter positron drive now being funded by NASA.

There is an immense amount of power in antimatter, but the problem has always been how to unlock it. The answer may be near in the form of positron breeding. Positrons are the antimatter of electrons, and by breeding positrons one breeds antimatter, which, if all goes well, will be used for fuel for spacecraft to take us to the stars. But what if all this positron antimatter gets loose? Haven’t we been told that if matter meets antimatter annihilation results? And even if the only things annihilated by antimatter positrons are electrons, don’t we need electrons? Just asking.

The thought of breeding positrons
Is frightening at best
Think of the monster in the lab
Who seems to be at rest
Whose eyes are closed, whose breath is still
No movement to be seen
But deep inside the monster lives
Desires that are keen
To feign deep sleep while unaware
Technicians calmly take
Decisions that will change the world
The instant he’s awake
Imagine then a world in which
Electrons don’t exist
Will chemical reactions then
Be gone and not be missed?
Without electrons would the world
Because of something rash
Be circling a burnt out sun
Of slowly cooling ash?
Meanwhile the spaceship travels on
Its positron exhaust
Turns fire of the inner stars
From heat to icy frost
Eventually the galaxy
Blinks out without a sigh
While gods look on and shrug and say
Well, it was a nice try

When I did my wash I always included seven short sleeve shirts, and occasionally one or two would come out of the dryer inside out, but last week all seven came out of the dryer inside out. Was this a natural phenomenon or the washer and dryer having fun?

An object that’s inanimate
That’s made of steel or laminate
Will often act perversely it is true
They’ll stubbornly insist
It’s you that must have missed
The start button and so the fault’s on you
But dryers now and washers
They’re kidders and they’re joshers
They play their tricks and have their little fun
On spin cycle they jiggle
And I can hear them giggle
Then summon me when all my wash is done
They’re silent as I open
The door and start my gropin’
Around inside to find my way about
They shake with silent laughter
Immediately after
I find that all my shirts are inside out

It has often been said that as Germany goes so goes Europe. It is becoming more and more difficult to believe that despite the difficulties with Muslim immigrants and homegrown environmentalists that Europe will somehow right itself. The delusion of mortal danger from the CO2 we exhale with every breath, and without which every living plant and tree on the planet would quickly die, leading to planet wide starvation, has destroyed the reasoning power of the ruling class. One can only hope that the collapse of Germany due to its no nukes, no coal, no oil and no gas fracking insanities affects only them. Coupled with the German government’s leadership in the equally insane Muslim immigration policy, I fully expect that the 2040 US presidential election will see the Democrats charge the Donald Trump Jr campaign with colluding with Darius the 7^th of the new Persian Empire.

Dancing unicorns race madly
Through the minds of the elites
Who participate most gladly
In the sugar plummy treats
Wide distributed by fairies
Who claim that the CO2
Is the sole cause of the varies
In the depth of ocean blue
In the meantime unbelievers
To their danger overlook
That their new welfare receivers
On instruction from their book
Are preparing to destroy them
By the gathering of men
And the Imams to deploy them
Then the Caliphate again
Oh the unicorns are dancing
And the sugar plums abound
With environment enhancing
The all-knowing, shaking ground