The New York Times questions the Obama Middle Eastern policy and Joe Biden is outraged, only to be reassured by Obama that all is still right with the world.

I do not understand, Joe cried

A pained look on his face

The New York Times of all our pals!

I tell you, quel disgrace!

They’re questioning your policy

Regards each Arab state

And wonder if it comes down to

Too little and too late

Barack Hussein Obama smiled

Said Joe, the game is played

Between the lines where foul is fair

And friends appear to fade

The Times is rightly on our side

The story is a plant

To make it seem they will be fair

And Joe, of course they can’t

Our policy is not too late

Too little or off course

I’ve spent apologetic years

To show we’re the weak horse

And I’ve succeeded by and large

Despised we are, not feared

So if you think the Times has strayed

Then Joe you sure are weird

Obama will soon be just a dark blot on the country’s escutcheon, a small man elevated far beyond his capacity, his very existence quickly forgotten.

The cheering crowds, the laurel wreaths

The gods who know that such as these

Who through good fortune thus became

The hero, whose deserved fame

Propelled him in the public eye

Would in the course of earth time die

And statues, slogans, paintings rot

In corners dark that time forgot

There’s a lot of feyness to Obama, a little doubt as to the testosterone quotient in his DNA. Michelle seems more heavily testosterone laden than he. What is it Obama sees when he looks in a mirror, as he often does?

Is he mister, is he missus

He knows not, our own Narcissus

In the mirror he sees beauty

Saving worlds his clear cut duty

Speaking ill of his own nation

Surely will inflate his station

Seeing thus his own reflection

Smiles in humble genuflection

Knows for certain he is seeing

One superb and shining being

Firm and bold, an alpha mister

Born to ride the screaming twister

Thus he stands before the mirror

Knowing not there’s nothing queerer

Than a man, a true narcissus

Seeing not that he’s a missus

Josef Goebbels was Adolf Hitler’s spinmeister, who said it was foolish to tell small lies when big lies were much more effective. Goebbels’ picture, it seems, is in the wallets of many of our so-called journalists. The lefty news anchors and lefty pundits will try to put some spin on the Obama debate disaster, and will surely come out snarling in an attempt to right the ship. Some couplets to ponder, as strangers we wander, to such places where, lives only despair. Or, as we were constantly reminded in 1942, there was, every day, a close shave on the Burma Road.

Every day the lying spews

From Lefties anchoring the news

Our Left’s composed of selfless nobles

Who self compete to be like Goebbels

The sycophants all love Obama

Incompetence, thus daily drama

The Left has won and none can foil it

They’ve put the country in the toilet

Our children’s lives will be disasters

Should they defy their Lefty masters

If Obie wins a new four years some

Of the future will be fearsome

The pundits now who think they’re clever

Will live, like coprolite, forever

Supposedly adult Obama supporters have taken to writing the sacred name on the backs of their hands. Can you see the possibilities? Four years ago a New Jersey teacher taught her first graders to sing ;”We Love Obama”. But why just one first grade class in one school in one state? Why not ink the back of the hands of each public school child in America? It could go something like this.

A local middle school production, written, staged and directed by dedicated to the children members of the Teachers Union, shows its solidarity to Obama by means of messages written on the backs of the hands of even the smallest of the students. As the curtain rises, the chorus, dressed in glittering white gowns and cardboard halos, sings to Obama, the Savior.

The stage is set, the lights are low

The curtain slowly raises

To fierce applause the chorus sings

The now familiar praises

“Obama! Son of God,” they sing

“Observe our handed letters

That read of love and faith and trust

In you and all our betters

Obamacare is here for us

If ever we should need it

And if we have a thought for you

We’re sure that you will heed it

For well we know you know our minds

You know how we are feeling

And that is why, Obama dear

To you we all are kneeling.”

With that the children kneel and pray

Their hands writ on extended

Revealing praiseful compliments

To One for whom knees bended

But just before the kids went on

A stealthy truth promoter

Changed all the words the teachers wrote

A fearless Romney voter

The audience was pleased and smiled

As O himself demanded

Not noticing the compliments

Were one and all back-handed

The first debate is over, and Mitt Romney scored a knockout over a befuddled and listless Obama. Tonight the magician in the White House pulled a dead rabbit out of his hat. The curtain has been lifted, and the country has beheld a shriveled simulacrum, lost without his teleprompter, unable to speak coherently beyond the memorized sound bites.

The curtain, ruffled by the breeze

Reveals the naked form for all to see

The limpid smile once thought to please

Now only shows a living parody

We watched with awe the curtain rend

Mitt Romney tore the damn thing clean in half

The sleight of hand is at an end

Obama led off crying by his staff

It isn’t over, just round one

The unions, fraud and Acorn will be heard

But as at Austerlitz the sun

Shines brighter as the world now hears the word

That Romney will restore the sense

Of freedom and democracy that would

Have been referred to in past tense

And Barack shred the country if he could

The curtain’s down, illusions gone

The implements of magic now revealed

The lady never had been sawn

As light shines on the flummery concealed

I think some GPS manufacturer is missing a marketing tool by not having the voice assume an annoyed tone when you go past the recommended turn.  “Whatsa matter, you don’t believe me?” Or a sultry woman who implies love and adventure when advising you of the next turn.

A sultry voice, a lonely man

A darkened road, late night

A woman’s voice, as only can

And everything’s all right

Turn here, she says, there’s more to come

That’s right, one quarter mile

I only make this call for some

I love your winsome smile

Oh no, you’re past, the turn was there

You’re gonna make me cry

I thought I’d found a man who’d care

Though just a voice am I

The Chinese are raising the stakes over those tiny Japanese islands the Chinese claim are theirs, a claim fueled by hubris as much as the oil and gas contained in the waters around them. Will it come to war between China and Japan? China seems prepared to go that far. As Mark Twain correctly observed, history doesn’t repeat, but it does rhyme.

The Chinks and Japs have been at war

For many ages now

And we have seen so oft before

The Chinese emperor bow

To Japanese who seem to win

Despite the number gaps

Can they give fortune one more spin

The answer is perhaps

The Kamikaze came and blew

The Mongol fleet away

And later Meiji armies knew

That they had won the day

In ’37 Nanking fell

And China lay prostrate

Knocked down but then saved by the bell

Pearl Harbor changed their fate

Yes China now’s a different case

But still, as we all know

The PRC lost beaucoup face

Not many years ago

When Viet Nam beat them real good

At odds of one to ten

For China never understood

That war was more than men

And so some islands are the cause

Of tensions on the rise

You’d think that history would give pause

But it is no surprise

That China, rich and smug and fat

Would think it’s time to strike

That tiny island nation that

They always did dislike

A billion Chinese more or less

Japan one two five mill

But numbers, history will confess

Count not as much as will

So if it’s war ‘twixt Japs and Chinks

If they should come to blows

The winners are the Japs, methinks

That’s how the history goes

‘Gainst China Japs just seem to win

The odds against them still

Will fortune give them one more spin

The answer is it will

During the recent strike by the Teachers Union against the Chicago Public School system, Obama and Biden discuss the situation, in which the President is torn between his love for Rahm Emmanuel and his love for the Teachers Union.

I tell you, Joe, it’s kids this hurts

Think of the PhDs

We’ll lose if all these little squirts

Are sitting home at ease

While they should be a studying

Their Latin and their Greek

These teachers sure are muddying

Their lives now as we speak

It’s not as bad as you might think

Said Joe with goofy grin

Chicago schools just mainly stink

So better out than in

The kids can hang out on the streets

While pickets walk the line

And learn to dance them shufflin’ feets

The kids will be just fine

But Joe, Rahm frets about his fate

He’s caught between two sides

He has to set the union straight

To prove his bona fides

Joe says, with grin, that guys like us

Raise kids with all the tools

And that’s because our kids don’t bus

Or go to public schools

China threatens war with Japan over some islands the Japanese say are theirs, and the Chinese say are within the Chinese sphere of influence, and therefore theirs. The problem for Obama is that while the Japanese are legally right, the Chinese have the guns, and the Japanese are certain Obama’s America will not abide by the defense treaties between the two countries, leaving them out to dry. So therefore it is Japan that is the problem. In a rather relaxed conversation with the Vice President, Obama discusses the problem of Japan.

How can they doubt my word, he said

I pledge the US might

Will both protect and succor them

If China wants to fight

Of course there’s more to this affair

Than seems to meet the eye

The Japs must be submissive and

Not scream and shout Banzai!

For China, Joe, does have a right

To waters near and far

And if some islands sit in them

They’re theirs, so there you are

Too right, Joe said with goofy grin

We’ll send them to the barber

The Japs must take a haircut, boss

Their turn for a Pearl Harbor