Publius Cornelius Obamanus

The Iranians have just announced they intend to increase their uranium refinement capacity to the point where they will be capable of producing one nuclear bomb a day, and seem much amused at Barack Obama’s threat to really get tough this time. And Iran has just seized five British yachtsmen and will no doubt try them for espionage as they are trying the four American hikers who strayed into Iranian territory in the Kurdish mountains not so long ago. Barbarians threaten the very life of the West, and we tremble at the thought of resisting, fearing the dark, the unknown, creating a world where the crazies believe they can win, that the West will never fight, a timidity on our part that only invites a nuclear attack and the desolation the inevitable response will bring. Acting now to solve the problem of the savages acquiring nuclear weapons would save the world the nuclear holocaust that is surely coming, but we are impotent, bound hand and foot by constraints of our own making. Where is our Scipio Africanus? Where is our Cato? Cannot we delenda est these people? 



Publius Cornelius Obamanus

Sat thoughtful on his throne

For though the world seemed ominous

Stout legions he did own

The problem was he did not think

The law allowed he used them

The raving hordes would raise a stink

And claim that he’d abused them

Barbarians were at the gates

A’pounding at the portals

Hurling camel dung and dates

As well as sneers and chortles

With slings and arrows falling fast

Obamanus sat quiet

He knew the slings would never last

And nukes? They’d never try it

He played it cool until the day

The missiles started flyin’

And at which point he stood to say

I’m one damn mad Hawaiian

As mushroom clouds rose overhead

He finally launched his legions

And laid to waste with many dead

The allahfested regions

With sadness he did contemplate

The world and all its ruin

And knew the lawyers would not wait

To file the papers suin’

Him for the reckless use of force

Accused of going Roman

And so he sighed with great remorse

And stared into the gloamin’

That once held all the world he knew

Including his great nation

Where not a tree or flower grew

For all was desolation

Alone, berobed and laurel wreathed

He wandered through the White House

And knew the future he bequeathed

Was glowing like a lighthouse



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