For a country whose leaders cry incessantly that they hate war, we seem to be in an awful lot of them. The problem is, since Korea we have decided not to win any of them. Korea was a police action, designed to push the North Koreans back across the 38^th parallel, but not to remove the communist regime. Vietnam the same – push ‘em back, but don’t do anything to really hurt them. Kosovo we dropped a few bombs from 40,000 feet and went home. Iraq we won the war but threw it away by Obama who said victory was not an option. In Afghanistan Obama committed troops at the same time he announced the date we would leave. When we declared war on Japan after Pearl Harbor did we tell them were leaving the war in 1943? We did not. We used to have presidents who thought victory was the desired result of going to war. No longer. And now Obama says war with Syria, but not more than a day or two. This is insane. Don’t we still make hobnailed boots?

The wars once won by hobnail boots
Now simmer, never boil
And thus it is that most disputes
Continue then to roil
The very instances in fact
That caused disputes to rise
And then the side the hobnails backed
Was wont to win the prize
The prize was victory of course
Loathed now as déclassé
We have instead the charging horse
A hobnail-less sashay

President Obama has ordered the armed forces of the United States to launch a decisive but limited strike on Syria, whose president, Bashar al Assad, has apparently committed the unforgivable crime of ignoring an Obama threat. Country singer Vern Gosdin had a hit record called Do You Believe Me Now. President Obama, after huffing and puffing, has finally ordered out the dogs of war, shaking his head in sorrow while singing the following to Assad.

You had your chance to have your say
Before I threw the gauntlet down
It’s too late they’re on the way
To your shabby little town
It’s a town for creeps and fools
Guys who think they are a king
Guys who gas those whom he rules
Guys who never learn a thing
Do you believe me now?
Hear those missiles hitting home
Hear those bombers overhead
Taking out each aerodrome
Adding to the daily dead
Tried to talk some sense to you
Tried my darndest to be kind
Told you what I’m gonna do
But you smiled and paid no mind
Do you believe me now?
It’s punishment that you deserve
I draw a line and never swerve
Do you believe me now?

President Obama, disdainful of the Constitution, is going to war with Syria, ignoring the Congress, which alone has the Constitutional right and duty to declare war. Has this completely incompetent White House thought about what happens next? What happens if American bombs set off a region wide conflagration? What happens when, not if, Israel is attacked and responds with force? Not that it matters. The Narrative, spun by the lapdog media, will proclaim every Obama disaster a glorious victory.

The four elite divisions of the Egyptian army, the Amon, the Re, the Ptah and the Sutekh, twenty thousand strong, marched quickly north on the Damascus Road, confident the sub-human Hittites were retreating before the supreme warrior king, the Pharaoh Rameses II. As the Pharaoh and the lead division, the Amon, approached the little Syrian town of Kadesh, Hittite chariots lay hidden in the woods lining the banks of the tiny Orontes River, south of the town. Hours after the Pharaoh and the Amon had passed through, the Re approached Kadesh, all unaware until the Hittite chariots trotted across the shallow Orontes and fell upon them, reducing the Re to flinders, men and chariots streaming north and south on the Damascus Road. After destroying the Re, the Hittites ran north after the trapped Rameses, taking up positions on the hills surrounding the road. Rameses got the Amon turned around and was himself attacked as he sped south. Surrounded, the Amon dying, the Pharaoh escaped in the gathering dark with his palace guard and united with the surviving Ptah and Sutekh. He headed for home, where he erected the still standing Rameseum at Thebes, whose giant carved stone outer walls still, some twenty-eight hundred years later, relate to all who would see, the details of the great Egyptian victory at Kadesh. The point: the Narrative always wins. Whatever happens, the Narrative will insist that Obama won.

 A sluggish stream, the heat of day
In woods the Hittite army lay
The distant drumming of the Re
Announced Mizziri coming
How often do we hear the same
The losing battle, then the claim
The battle won and thus the fame
The lyre softly strumming
It happened always, throughout time
That men, intent on upward climb
Would hear amidst the dirt and grime
The Narrative’s soft humming
The Narrative said it was so
And cast him in a golden glow
The vanquisher of every foe
The plaudits without summing
But can it last, distorting facts
How long lay hidden subtle acts
How long unknown the devil pacts
The man and myth succumbing

Thanks to Barack Obama and the hags Hillary, Valerie Jarrett and Susan Rice, Egypt is now in chaotic civil war. Obama ousted an authoritarian dictator, Mubarak, who was on our side and wanted and kept the peace with Israel, and put in place a violent America and Israel hating Muslim Brotherhood that wanted only war and the destruction of both the United States and Israel. Thankfully, the Egyptian army has ousted the Muslim Brotherhood from power, much to the dismay of Obama and his hags, who were quite comfortable with the Muslim Brotherhood and their agenda of war and destruction of Israel and the West. The River Nile, however, seems quite unperturbed by events, having seen more than enough violence and chaos in its timeless eternity.

The Nile existed before time
And flowed unvexed to inland sea
Through empty lands at once sublime
But knowing what would one day be
The flowing waters saw the rise
Of temple builders on its shores
Of Pharaoh kings who ruled the skies
And Caesars settling old scores
Napoleon would come to grief
From Nelson’s guns at Aboukir
She’s seen it all without relief
Elation, joy and troubled fear
The flow of time she understood
A thousand years is but a day
She cares not all for Brotherhood
Or what Obama has to say
They’ll all be gone in blink of eye
Forever though the waters flow
And what it sees none can descry
Nor man discern what waters know

There are dark signs that the Middle East is about to implode, with al Qaeda the victor, with triumphant Muslim terrorists ready to strike the United States abroad and here at home. I spoke to a progressive liberal the other day, and she said she saw no sign of any Middle East implosion, and insisted that as long as Jay Carney says all is well she will sleep well at night, knowing that President Obama is on the job, and keeping us safe.

“The country’s in the best of hands,”
She said with much emotion
“We do what president demands
We’re safe behind our ocean
These places are a long way off
Their actions have no meaning
And yes I know that some will scoff
And be some wails and keening
But all is well, we have the best
And brightest we can trust and
As far as up to any test
The president is just grand”
I said the US was at war
With people who will kill us
Perhaps tonight if not before
And you people just fill us
With lies and pap and narratives
That only tend to leave us
With devious comparatives
Intended to deceive us.
“Ah no,” she smiled and walked away
“Obama speaks no blarney
He tells the truth most every day
Just go and ask Jay Carney

A liberal writer from Think Progress, a man named Arnobio Morelix, published an article in the Huffington Post in which he calculated that McDonalds could double the pay of each of its employees, including management, at the paltry sum of sixty-eight cents additional cost per hamburger. The calculation was soon exposed as absurd, but that doesn’t stop the Left from throwing this stuff out in the expectation that some will stick, at least with the Democrat base of low information and lower intelligence voters. I think if they want to appeal to a different sort of voter, they might do something a bit cultural, a re-write of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado for instance;

CHORUS:

Three little maids from school are we
Pert as a school-girl well can be
Each with a burger on her knee
Three little maids from school

Three little maids who, all unwary
See that McDonald’s does not vary
Full of that transfat, how so scary
Three little maids from school

NANKI-POO, played by Arnobio Morelix, then sings:

A wandering minstrel I, a thing of shreds and patches
Of ballads, songs and snatches, of dreamy, creamy fries
My server’s underpaid, he should be making double
It won’t be any trouble, a mease-illy sixty eight cents
My passion it is raging, and Congress I am paging
To change this crime and hang the damn expense!

At this point KO-KO, The Lord High Executioner, enters stage left and sings:

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list, I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed, who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for lefty rags
All people who have flabby minds and lefty women nags
Researchers who think money grows on trees and picked like leaves
And bleeding heart sick liberals who show you their red sleeves
And all who think that all of us should do as they insist
They never will be missed, there’d none of them be missed

An ornate chopping block is wheeled onstage, and as the curtain falls, the entire staff of the Huffington Post is led single file to the chopping block, where the Lord High Executioner sings, in a melancholy baritone,

No, they never will be missed!

If there were a beginning to the Universe, then before that there had to be nothing, and if there was nothing then how could there be a beginning? One can imagine the universe we live in as being conceived in the Big Bang, as I believe it was, and growing, step by step, like ascending a stair, into its current form. But for there to be a Big Bang, there had to be something there to go Bang, so it could not have been the beginning. So the question is, what or who was on the first step of the stair?

In the beginning there was nothing
Though the nothing wasn’t there
So there could be no beginning
Without someone on the stair
A someone who stepped lightly
As he rose with weary tread
With his fingers brushed the handrail
As he went upstairs to bed
Where he dreamed of streaming starlight
As the galaxies were formed
And his hand set them in motion
As the cold of space was warmed
As he dreamed a thought came to him
Many worlds would come to life
Though he knew that his new creatures
Would be born to war and strife
It was there the dream had ended
In the morning he awoke
And his house was filled with starlight
As the dawn upon him broke
Through his window he saw blossoms
Moving gently with the breeze
In a bright and verdant pasture
Stretching to the distant trees
He turned and on the landing
He thought of all the cares
His dream had set in motion
Then he started down the stairs

The President’s recent speech at the National Defense University was characterized by the New York Times as “a window into the mind of the president.” I know quite a bit about windows. I once had a plumber named Fenstermacher.

What type of window you may ask
Perhaps it was a casement
Or maybe one to suit the task
A small one for the basement
A double hung, or window bays
Or just some window dressing
The president is glum these days
It’s all so darned depressing
Yes something wicket this way comes
And enters through a transom
To find us twiddling our thumbs
Our embassies for ransom
Al Qaeda’s dead, Obama claimed
We’ve sent the buggers hopping
But really now he can’t be blamed
He’s only window shopping

I’ve had very few problems in my life, and the one exception is a problem most men would not consider a problem, and that is that since I was very young women have found me fascinating. With good reason, of course, but it didn’t stop there. Fame and fortune came my way, almost without effort, adding to the adulation. Still, I suppose problems like these must be accepted as the price one pays for being born with both looks and intelligence.

I’ve had this problem all my life
Rich beauties want to be my wife
While others simply want the chance
To be with me for just one dace
Much intellect I have to spare
And Nobels I don’t have to share
Good looks and smarts have done me well
The movies want my life to tell
I’m now content to rest my game
Of much accomplishment and fame
Just one small failure comes to mind
Yes I have always been too kind
To dullards who in throngs surround
The shining glory of the ground
On which I stand and shall ascend
To heights my shrinks could not unbend

The Progressive socialism that now rules the West, including the United States, is universally known as The Btue Model. They looked so fine on the showroom floor, waxed to a spit shine polish, sleek and new, with easy trade in terms. Just a little freedom given up, and you could own a brand spanking new Blue Model car that would take you anywhere you wanted to go, so long as you wanted to go where the Blue Model car wanted to take you. The bargain was irresistible and everyone who had one was prosperous and happy, until the inevitable day the repo man appeared.

The salesman smiled, his words rang true
As he whispered soft and low
“This model here, the shiny blue
Is how you want to go
It falters not or needs repair
It’s built to never fail
It runs on just pure country air
And this one’s now on sale.”
With millions sold the shiny blues
Ran slick as advertised
Until the day the repo crews
Took back from the surprised
Blue Model folks who thought the laws
That stood the time-long test
Did not apply to them because
The salesmen all knew best
And so it was the rusting hulls
Lay scattered and forlorn
Amid vast fields of whitened skulls
Each one a sucker born