Have you ever noticed that tin pot dictators throughout the world invariably wear Rolex watches? Have you ever noticed that they style themselves as men of the people, yet they live in mansions, are surrounded by beautiful women, and drink the finest wine and wear designer clothes? Wonder no longer. It is all part of the winning persona. No oppressed and depressed peon wants to be ruled by someone just like himself. You wear a Rolex watch and you are idolized by the world’s left wing press. Wear a Timex, like George W. Bush, and the world’s left wing press snickers and sneers. I spoke to a tin pot dictator recently, a man who wore a Timex, and he explained what happened.

I wear my heart outside my sleeves

I speak of that which man believes

I look the part of common man

Coiffed hair, clipped nails, a winter tan

My women elegant and slim

Masseurs and workouts at the gym

My speeches ring eternal truths

My words bring voters to the booths

My smile bedazzles womankind

My motorcades pass streets full lined

And yet the Left won’t budge a notch

My sin, I wear a Timex watch

The president of the United States has many decisions to make, and President Obama seems entirely reluctant to make them. Which is why he insists on leading from behind. That way he won’t have to make the call, and thus is able to absolve himself from blame when things go wrong, as they so often do. And so the White House undoubtedly has a plan for Syria or Lebanon or Iran or the Chinese or any of the other threats to the security interests of the United States, but when it comes time to implement one of them, it turns out there is no plan because no one can decide which one it should be. If it isn’t Plan 1a, or 1b, or maybe even 2a, then it must be Plan 2b, right?  The following is a transcript of Obama demanding the Cabinet come up with options. Obama, as Hitler was fond of saying, goes about his business with all the assurance of a sleepwalker.

2b or not 2b, that is the question

Or maybe there are questions not to ask

To act at all could surely bring disaster

Why set a man to do a hopeless task

1a was much too risky in the long run

1b had flaws that made us wince with pain

2a was little better but was simpler

2b just takes us back to 1 again

And so I shall announce my firm decision

3a it is and that’s my final word

So I’ll expect to see 3a tomorrow

And everyone involved of course be heard

You guys and gals at State, Defense and Homeland

Submit in detail what you think we need

And Commerce, Labor, Energy and Housing

Will do the same of course with all due speed

You guys at Goldman Sachs will put your oar in

You Google guys and gals will data mine

And Axelrod and guys will do some polling

And have it on my desk by half past nine

This being president is all so stressful

No time to exercise or sleep or talk

A good thing I have found the right solution

I get my sleep and at the same time walk

Clubs were probably the first weapons used by man against other men, while the stone was the first missile and first method of execution. We’ve come a long way from stoning adulteresses and throwing rocks at each other, but not as far as you might think. An intercontinental ballistic missile is just a bigger rock with a longer range.

Sticks and stones were once the things

With which we fought our wars

And stones were used to crown the kings

And execute the whores

And then the sword and bow and lance

Were followed by the gun

And then to cap the weapons dance

We just unleashed the sun

And now with missiles swift and tall

And weapons of such force

Soon wars will not be fought at all

Except with stones of course

In England, school students are permitted to declare the gender of their choice, without the parents being notified. Thus a boy can tell the school he’s a girl, and as far as the school is concerned, he’s a girl, permitted to use the girls’ bathrooms. I don’t know about you, but if I were an English teenaged boy I would be very much tempted to take advantage of the opportunity. I probably would not have, for I had been taught never to go into the girls’ bathroom, but nobody ever said anything about the Ladies’ Lounge.

I remember the day I lost my way

And wandered by mistake

Into a gorgeous ladies’ lounge

And did a double take

Soft lighting, carpet, and soft chairs

And mirrors by the score

Embraced a room of women who

Looked up as through the door

The apparition that was I

Asked pardon for my fault

They looked away as if to say

Too bad, it’s only Walt

It has been said that a country has no permanent friends and no permanent enemies, only permanent interests. This may apply to countries, but it doesn’t seem to apply to Obama, who apparently has no permanent interests beyond vacationing and getting his wife out of town, both these permanent interests so costly as to require him to conduct a low cost drone war.

A drone is but a buzzing sound

Annoying and no more

Infuriating all around

To even up the score

Obama likes them much because

They give him peace of mind

He gets to put the war on pause

While leading from behind

A hollow army, shrunken fleet

It never rains but pours

Economy in sharp retreat?

We’ll stop the White House tours

After World War 2 the Allies set about pacifying Germany and Japan by re-integrating the former German and Japanese military into a new military run along democratic lines. This worked because we winnowed out the confirmed Nazis and Emperor worshippers, and staffed the new armies with ordinary guys who were just soldiers, not fanatics. The West is now faced with a similar project after Assad is removed, that of integrating the various elements of the Syrian rebel forces into a new Syrian army. Good luck with that.  In the first place, the Jihadists will infiltrate the new army and subvert it to their cause, whatever we do. But all is not lost. They will still be an Arab army, and not worth a damn. So here’s my advice to Obama: don’t even try.

To make a new nation

With reintegration

You’re going to keep

The wolves with the sheep

So don’t go to sleep

The price will be steep

You will surely be pissed

If something is missed

So we’ll draw up a list

For our new armored fist

You’ll need trainers, explainers

Ex-grunts on retainers

Jihadists as squaddies

You’ve got to have bodies

Lieutenants and rankers

And arties and tankers

Medics for chancres

And big money bankers

You’ve got to have bakers

And dumb order takers

And generals and majors

And orderly pagers

And not to be smarmy

You’re still not an army

So just let it fester

And blame the sequester

Three-D printing is the wave of the future, or so we are told. They’ve just printed some guy a new skull, and I ask how long until we can print an entire human? I don’t know, but if I’m still around I know who I’m going to order. The possibilities are endless. Look in the catalog under Blondes. Want a living, breathing Marilyn Monroe? Pretty expensive, but ultimately the prices will drop, and you might be able to get a Rita Hayworth or a Kate Upton for under ten thousand dollars, with a cut-rate Special on Britney Spears. And of course there would be catalogs for women too. So if I clone myself back to age 25……

A gorgeous blonde, a sweet brunette

And redheads by the mile

A blowsy broad, a tease coquette

Will bring a thoughtful smile

To every man who ever dreamed

Of a woman might have been

He’ll pay the price and hope there seemed

A difference ‘neath the skin

Hugo Chavez, a tin pot dictator, has died, and his death was greeted with sorrow by the usual leftist suspects, like Sean Penn and Oliver Stone, who called him a great man, a man of the people, and so on. This happens all the time. Just wait till you see the outpouring of grief from the left when Castro dies. I spoke to a liberal friend recently and asked why he was so enamored of tin pot leftist dictators. He smiled and said

Tin pots are made by tinkers

They mend them on the spot

Democracies have thinkers

Who think that they have got

The right to chain up free men

To jobs we all disdain

Discouraging the dreamin’

And crushing who complain

But tin pots like to tinker

The law is not for them

For law just puts a blinker

On those who must condemn

The cut throat market forces

And voting by the mob

That’s why the proper course is

Give tin pot guys the job

The solar system is periodically bombarded with asteroids and meteorites, denizens of the Oort Cloud, a region of hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of icy planetoids almost a light year from the sun. The Oort Cloud is believed to be the home of all long period comets such as Halley’s Comet, but every once in a while something happens and hundreds or thousands of these planetoids are disturbed and leave the Oort Cloud and visit the inner planets, meaning us. Some scientists believe the disturbances are caused by a companion star to our sun, a star they call Nemesis, or Death Star.  One thing we know, large asteroid impacts have erased life on Earth several times in the past, and will do so again. Is Nemesis acting up again? Is the recent outbreak of near miss asteroids and meteorites the result of Nemesis nudging our rocky visitors into another orbit?

I looked around the premises

Could see no sign of Nemesis

The skies looked clear and all the stars were bright

But just inside the Oort Belt

A nudge was kind of sort felt

By something that had hung around all night

And like sails torn from their grommets

Many hundreds of huge comets

Left their icy friends and hurtled on their way

Many years they have been moving

And with telescopes improving

We shall see them now about just any day

Obama maintained for a very long time that the dreaded sequester was a Republican idea, and that its terrible effects were entirely the fault of those horrid Republicans who would not work with him to solve the nation’s problems. For the first time in his presidency, the lapdog media found the courage to question him gently on this, and faced with the cruel truth Mr. Obama cheerfully confessed that it was his idea all along. All of which was shrugged off, for everyone knows Obama doesn’t lie even when he confesses.

Whose idea was sequester?

Well a Democrat court jester

Said Republicans were out to steal your watch

But the question sill would fester

Prior statements they would pester

Even though Chris Matthews tingled in his crotch

It turns out that O’s tea tester

Was a secret O detester

And he managed to place words between O’s lips

And those words, like any nester

Came to roost on the protester

Who claimed Gods like O don’t lie and don’t make slips