Winter In Moscow

In 1812 Napoleon’s La Grande Armee entered Moscow, believing they had won the war with Russia. The Russians thought otherwise, and shortly thereafter, starving and cold, the Grande Armee set out for home, across the trackless Russian steppe, in the dead of winter. Very few made it back to France. Obama’s desperate drive to get Obamacare passed in the Senate before Christmas was very like Napoleon’s drive to enter Moscow before winter set in, and the aftermath looks very much like Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow. The American people have seen, despite the heroic efforts by the mainstream media to disguise it, the sordid back alley deals the Dems used to get the needed 60 votes. The people have also seen that passage of Socialized medicine will bankrupt the country, ration healthcare, and enlarge the power of the Federal government, an unholy trinity the people of the United States reject by a substantial margin. And now the voters of Massachusetts have spoken for all of us. As of this writing, Nancy Pelosi, Harry Reid and the leaders of the Democratic party are meeting to try to figure out how to get this monstrosity passed, and they are looking at Reconciliation. If they can pull that off they will gotten the camel’s nose under the tent. And if they manage to push something down the throats of a public that has said loudly and clearly that they don’t want it, then the Democrat party will be savaged by the voters in November. If the Dems double down after the Massachusetts defeat, as both Obama and Axelrod have vowed to do, they may get something passed, but the cost to the Democrats will be enormous. Like Napoleon’s soldiers, very few of them will be returning.    



The snow so deep, the wind so cold

The city far away

There’s wealth and food there we were told

Press on another day!

We struggle on, the horses die

And still the city sits

Behind us ‘gainst the winter sky

So far from Austerlitz

We gained the prize, another dawn

But neither wealth nor food

The city burned, the people gone

The men in murderous mood

A tinsel prize, a barren dream

We starved and headed home

Through snow and sleet and cold that seem

To mock each onion dome

We died by roadside, died by wood

We watched the death toll grow

We ate our horses when we could

Then lay down in the snow

But I’m not dead, I’m still alive

Bemused, I watch the scene

As others force the snow and strive

To go where we have been

A tinsel prize, a barren dream

Health care and cap and trade

They never learn, so it would seem

For some dreams never fade

So they press on, alons! No fear!

For snow-bound sixty votes

But coming closer they can hear

The failing bugle notes



Leave a Reply