Everybody has a graph. There are graphs to explain other graphs, there are graphs to refute other graphs, there are graphs designed to allow the maker of the graph to brag about something, and graphs to show that the bragging graph is really a sobbing, beg forgiveness for all my sins graph. There is an old saying, that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. Is that what these graphs are intended for, to convince us that the grass is or is not greener on the other side of the fence? Whose graph do we believe?

What can we make of all these graphs

That make the bleak world meaner

Are they in fact but epitaphs

That make the pain much keener

What can we make of all those lines

That say our wealth is leaner

Perhaps we need to see some signs

That say the graphs is greener

Beyond the Lefty box we’re in

That takes us to the cleaner

We need to hush the Lefty din

And live where graphs is greener

In a moment of guilt, the American people decided to fix the problem of minorities, first African Americans and later women, both categories being last in line for jobs and education behind white men. The problem is, once the pendulum is put in motion, it never stops at neutral, it always continues to the opposite extreme, where affirmative action now directly harms those not expressly designated as recipients of government largesse. And when that happens, eventually the part of the population actually harmed by affirmative action takes steps to reverse the pendulum, in the expectation that the pendulum will eventually stop at neutral. But it never does. Asian Americans are now bringing lawsuits against universities that deny them entrance, even though their scores are considerably higher than the scores of African American applicants. The Asian Americans will eventually find legal relief, and the pendulum will start to swing the other way. But where will it end?

The pendulum at top of arc

Will briefly pause ‘fore it descends

To leave once favored in the dark

To favor whom? Well, it depends

On where the pendulum in flight

Is at at any given time

To pendulums no wrong or right

Pertains, nor reason and or rhyme

For pendulums think not at all

About the nature of those arcs

Or for the reason for their fall

From favored whites to Rosa Parks

Who for the briefest moment shone

Reflected light upon her kin

Who by the pendulum alone

Were favored with a transient win

The pendulum now upward swings

And those now favored must adjourn

And leave the arc and gifts it brings

To those believing it’s their turn

It’s election time again, and incumbents are finding the people tired of sending the same old faces back to Washington. Incumbent after long time incumbent has gone down to defeat in the primaries at the hands of a new face on the block, and they, the incumbents, don’t like it. They believe, with heartfelt sincerity, that the job belongs to them by Divine Right. And so they cry and scream it isn’t fair.

Incumbents cry

You know that I

Have only you in mind

I work for you

You know it’s true

I am one of a kind

Those other guys

They tell such lies

Opponents and their friends

And ‘fore you know

We all will go

And thus our freedom ends

A vote for me

And you will see

Our freedom’s flag on high

Just send me back

I’m not some hack

Like him, that other guy

Frank Sheeran, dying of cancer, told the story of how he put Jimmy Hoffa down, and confessed his sins, all in the expectation that God would forgive him. Hugo Chavez, also dying of cancer, forgot he was an atheist Communist long enough to confess to a priest. And they were not the only ones. Faced with imminent death, most people want to square things with God. People on deathbeds have confessed to unsolved murders and to any manner of criminality, all because they believe God will forgive them, no matter what they had done. These people are all optimists. The optimist believes God will forgive him even if he isn’t truly repentant, while the pessimist thinks God will not believe he is truly repentant, even if he is. The pessimist is doomed whatever he does, while the optimist has a puncher’s chance.

The pessimist knows God is smart

And plans to lay him low

God knows he prays to play a part

As he prepares to go

He pleads to God in tear stained voice

To let him tell his side

That life had given him no choice

But His will he’d abide

And then as death drew quiet near

And children gathered ‘round

God bent and whispered in his ear

‘Tis wanting you’ve been found

The optimist on other hand

As on his death bed climbs

Smiles calmly to the family band

Because he’s dropped some dimes

On guys he knows had said a prayer

And off to Heaven sent

And so it was without a care

To God his message went

He had the goods on many friends

If God would care to know

And he would tell to make amends

And thus avoid below

The optimist as death drew near

Quite certain that his fate

Was Heaven bound was shocked to hear

God say it was too late

The saga of Greece and the Euro and the Eurozone continues. The Greeks want no part of austerity, and neither does anyone else, which means that if the Euro is to survive in any meaningful way the Germans will have to come once again to the rescue. But the German taxpayers have about had it with bailing out people who would rather collect German checks than work. And so the countries of southern Europe drift slowly upon the iceberg. Like the Titanic, they believe they are too big to fail, and that something will turn up at the last minute to save them.

Beneath the placid surface

Upon which the fine ships swim

There stirs a subtle movement

While the band selects a hymn

And while the dancers dance and

Partygoers drink their wine

Deep down below the surface

Someone’s singing Auld Lang Syne

Yet who will see this deep dark night

Where starlight fills the sky

That on the edge of vision

Lies the answer to the why

The ship seems strangely silent

As if engines had to cease

Their steady throb of power

As they near the shores of Greece

With booming surf in hearing

The commanders set the goals

That would keep the ship from setting

Up upon the fearsome shoals

And as they talked deep in the ship

The crew began to bail

Ignored by the commanders

Who said we’re too big to fail

It’s Memorial Day, and time to begin thinking of that great American ritual, High School Graduation. And so, to all shortly to be high school grads, Verse-afire offers some friendly advice. Celebrate, you’ve earned it, but not for long, for it’s time to think about the next step. College in the Fall. Study hard but have some fun while you’re there, for after college real life starts, and fun may be in short supply. Work, marriage and kids comes after that, and you will find that that is the great reward for all the hard work you’ve put in.

So here we are, it’s graduation

Time to think of what comes next

High school’s done, to much elation

Time to choose your college text

You’ll have to choose ‘twixt art and science

Math and English are a must

Lit and hist’ry in alliance

Without them college is a bust

Study hard and work your ast off

Get good grades and finish high

So when you leave your life will blast off

Career goals soaring to the sky

So get to school, don’t dilly dally

Take time out to have some joy

Go to every football rally

And there’s a girl for every boy

And if the rules sometimes get bended

Take in stride and have no care

That mom and dad will be offended

Because, you know, they won’t be there

Obama has placed the American forces in Afghanistan at great risk by putting them in a landlocked country with no way out. We will soon begin withdrawing our troops, at which point they will likely have to fight their way out. This will not be the first time. You will recall the great early Greek work Anabasis, by Xenophon, who led his ten thousand troops out of Persia, across deserts and through mountain passes, fighting all the way, at great length reaching the Black Sea, where they were finally safe. It is about to happen again. Late one evening, wandering the darkened White House hallways, sneering at the portraits of past presidents, Obama was startled to see a faint apparition standing in a doorway. When Obama asked who he was, the apparition replied his name was Xenophon, and he had come to give some advice to the president of the United States.

I too once marched in from the sea

The ghostly wraith began

Ten thousand men with arms alight

And how the Persians ran

Victorious we were but then

Good Cyrus fell in death

And then the ones we came to aid

Turned on us in a breath

Betrayed we were by one time friends

Clearchus cruelly slain

And so beset on every hand

We set out for the plain

That stretched to northward many leagues

Dry deserts, mountains passed

We fought our way out every step

Until we saw, at last

The sea, and “Thalatta!” we cried

And lay our weary bones

And prayed to god who answered all

Our laments and our moans

Take heed, my friend, of this our tale

Your army is in peril

Your friends will kill you like as not

And on your bones will hurl

The spit and venom that they feel

For all the likes of you

They smile but once you try to leave

The sky will not be blue

But black as storm tossed ocean with

But treachery in store

With ravens picking at your eyes

And death at every door

Oh yes, your men will reach the sea

“Thalatta!” they will cry

But many will lay in the dust

Yes many men will die

The lesson sir, is plain as day

Too late as you well know

Place not your men far from the sea

Surrounded by the foe

In 2001 Barack Hussein Obama’s literary agents circulated a bio of their client that claimed he had been born in Kenya. Such bio material is always forwarded to the agencies by the author, so Obama was either born in Kenya, and not Hawaii as he later claimed in a forged birth certificate, or he was born in Hawaii but lied about his birthplace in order to improve his chances of selling his book. I spoke to my Irish setter today and asked him why his AKC registration said he was born in Kenya, and he said it was a misunderstanding, he told them he was born in a kennel and they thought he said Kenya, but didn’t think the error was important, and besides, it gave him a one up on the other guys on the street, and the chicks all thought it was cool. He then recited some doggerel, which I reproduce below.

Yes my dad was from a kennel

And my mom from lines of bitches

So my DNA was mixture

And I hungered for them riches

So I fibbed about my birthplace

‘Cause I thought I could do better

And I told them I’m no mongrel

I’m a gorgeous Irish setter

Well they took me at my word and

After that the good life beckoned

All because my Setter blood line

Was a big one thirty-second

Then he wagged his tail and grinning

Said it really is a marvel

You can be just who you please and

That’s from president to larval

All it takes is just be gutsy

And the goofy left wing doters

Then will turn your rusty kennel

Into gold to fool the voters

Greek banks are on the verge of collapse, Spanish unemployment is at unsustainable heights, American college grads are finding that a Masters in black studies and women’s studies is no more useful on the job market than a Masters in necromancy, and possibly less useful. Are the generals stirring again in Greece? Is Franco still dead? Will the people with useless degrees but overwhelming student loan debt vote for Obama this time? No one knows. What we do know is that once the ship starts sliding down the ways it is hard to stop.

What happens when the banks run dry

What happens when your children cry

What happens when the jobs are gone

What happens when there’s naught to pawn

What happens when you’ve reached despair

What happens when no hope is there

What happens is the guillotine

Is shining nice and bright and clean

And tumbrels rattle through the streets

And history yes doth repeats

And horses then get painted white

To carry forth the saving knight

Who will restore the status quo

That’s what happens when it starts to go

The Hall of Mirrors glittered with candles and beautiful women. Louis danced to the applause of the courtiers, while outside, unheeded by those inside, the people were preparing the tumbrels that would take them all to the guillotine. And so Washington, trapped in its own version of Versailles, is sublimely unaware of the crisis coming down on us. The euro is about to collapse, Afghanistan is about to collapse back into Taliban tyranny, the Middle East is now in the hands of radical Islamists, Iran is about to get the bomb, Israel is about to prevent Iran from getting the bomb, and the Obama administration dances to the music only it hears, in its own candlelit hall of mirrors. The only thing missing is the guillotine.

Today, while writing verse I

Tried for words to rhyme with Versailles

But as things got worse and worse I

Finally gave up with a sigh

And turned my thoughts to Greece and

Argonauts and Golden Fleece and

Now there’s riots and police and

Time to say to Greece goodbye

As for Nicolas Sarkozy

Who once thought all things are rosy

No one voiced the thought, suppose he

Lost his next election try

Madame Merkel thought to straighten

Out the problems while she’s waitin’

For the Greeks to stop the bait ‘n

Switch that made her want to cry

While the dollar we’re debasing

And destruction we are facing

Same sex marriage is what’s racing

To the forefront in Versailles