Sunny Italy

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The European debt crisis has now hit Italy, with Italian government bond yields reaching the magic seven percent mark, beyond which it becomes nearly impossible for the government to borrow money in the public markets. The absurdity of a common currency for a collection of entirely different European countries with differing economies is now being made plain, and that absurdity is now threatening to bankrupt sovereign countries like Italy, countries that were doing quite nicely, thank you, before the unelected Brussels Eurocrats took the continent over despite opposition from the people of Europe, who have nothing to say about the fascist government in Brussels they now have to live with, and in some cases, die with.

 

 

The trattoria where mama cooked

The church where women prayed

In Venice where the hotel looked

Out where gondolas played

In Tuscany the Springtime fields

Shone green beneath the sun

Promising that autumn yields

Bid well for everyone

The roads where Caesar’s legions marched

The Apennines so grand

The tree lined roads so grandly larched

Great food on every hand

One paints the traveler’s lament

In tones of somber hue

A thousand years of culture spent

In days by the EU

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Barbarians

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The country is now run by bureaucrats and radical left wing ideological zealots. We need a housecleaning, perhaps by people who don’t care how they get it done, just get it done. Barbarians maybe. One thing about barbarians, they get stuff done. You might not like the way they do it, but the stuff gets done. Germanicus and Belisarius could keep them at bay for a time, but in the end the barbarian wins, only to become who they defeated, and to be defeated in their turn by other barbarians. And so it goes.

 

 

They get the trains to run on time

And regulations are in rhyme

Department codes are in plain text

And who can tell what might come next

Perhaps the tax code on one page

And on the Court perhaps one sage

With T shirts now the thing to wear

Executives with unwashed hair

The bureau chiefs all put to grass

And no one needs to cover ass

Results the only thing that counts

Especially as the danger mounts

That’s why we need some bright young guys

To look at things through newer eyes

Barbarians are good at stuff

Their ponies and their men are tough

Just ask the Byzantines and Rome

We need some guys like that at home

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Flower Trucks

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Reports that Pakistan, concerned that the US is planning on taking over the Paki nuclear storage sites, is loading its nukes on civilian trucks and vans and driving them through city streets and around the countryside, have been dismissed by the Paki government as absurd and a pack of lies. But are the reports absurd? We think not. But what kind of trucks? The Paks and Indians frequently paint their trucks in flowered patterns, so there is no doubt the Paks are hiding their nukes in flowery trucks, for did not Mao say to let a thousand flower trucks boom?

 

 

The US once had nukes on wheels

The Racetrack it was called

We gave it up when lefty squeals

Cried nukes should not be hauled

But did we really shut that down

Perhaps they’re rolling still

Through every little Podunk town

Through dale and over hill

So if the Pakis load a truck

And say it’s full of blooms

And drive around, then with some luck

We’ll soon hear of the booms

 

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

It’s For The Kids

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I walked through an Occupied park the other day, disguised as an elderly hippie, and when I asked a rather dirty young woman what it was all about, this is what she said:

 

 

I’m here for all the kids, you know?

The future makes you think

I’m proud to be a part of this

Except for all the stink

No porta-potties in the park

So folks crap where they can

But we put up with all this stuff

To stick it to The Man

There’s been some rapes, but that’s okay

Some beatings here, a few

And that Israeli consulate

We stuck it to the Jew

But otherwise it’s been a blast

I’m here without my ex

We’re doing good, we have such fun

And just terrific sex

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

But That Was Yesterday

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The Occupy London radical left wingers have taken over St. Paul’s Cathedral, and, as expected, used it as a latrine. St. Paul’s is part of the proud history of Britain, a history of enlightenment, of law, a history that is now, well, history, where the coddled young crap in the nave because they believe the State is not doing enough for them, is not taking enough from the productive class to keep the unproductive class in the luxury to which they have become accustomed.

 

 

St. Paul’s has seen

Each King and Queen

Since the year 1710

On Ludgate Hill

It stands there still

By genius Christopher Wren

It seems short years

That Dukes and Peers

In robes and scepters may

By candlelight

Show Britain’s might

But that was yesterday

The Heinkels came

And set to flame

The Londoners each night

And St. Paul’s sits

Amid the Blitz

Backlit against the light

St. Paul’s can boast

Of Nelson’s ghost

And Churchill’s mortal clay

Who tarried there

In raiment fair

But that was yesterday

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Charming Billy

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Bill Clinton has written a book in which he says the country is in a state of malaise, and all its ills are caused by the Tea Party, while praising Occupy Wall Street thugs and rapists as the genuine voice of the American people. Bill has always been good for a laugh, though you always feel like you had to wash your hands after listening to him.

 

Charming Billy: A traditional folk song.

 

 

Where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy

Where have you been, Charming Billy

I have gone to see malaise, and wherever do I gaze

I see right wingers hating all us others

Have you seen OWS, Billy Boy, Billy Boy

Have you seen OWS, Charming Billy

I have seen OWS, and if I don’t miss my guess

They are good kids and loving all the others

Do you still sit at a desk, Billy Boy, Billy Boy

Do you still sit at a desk, Charming Billy

Yes I sit there all unzipped, while the little girlie sipped

She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

Gently Down The Stream

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The euro looks like it is going the way of the Dodo. In the immortal words of Monty Python, it is a deceased, defunct parrot. And with the demise of the euro goes the Eurozone and the strangling bureaucracy in Brussels. But the ruling elites in Europe, fighting furiously to save their positions and sinecures, are paddling furiously upstream, trying to stay afloat, blissfully unaware the boat is being pulled inexorably toward the cataract, and paddle as they might, the boat is going over the falls, ending the socialist dream, possibly forever.

 

 

Euro, euro, euro your boat

Gently down the stream

Over the falls and onto the rocks

Life is a bad dream

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

A Sinking Ship

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At the G20 conference in Cannes, it was agreed that the IMF should double in size, fearing that it was currently too small to deal with the European debt crisis. The current head of the IMF, Christine LaGarde, is thus charged with passing the tin cup around, hoping someone will fill it. But it doesn’t matter. The ship is sinking, and no amount of money pumped into the dying socialist European system of rule by Brussels bureaucrats will save them.

 

 

The IMF

Is clearly deaf

To cries the ship is sinking

And Ms LaGarde

Is trying hard

To keep the marks from blinking

She says I am

With Uncle Sam

The European savior

And to that end

We’ll tax and spend

Our way to good behavior

But all the while

Despite the guile

The ship of state is settling

Despite the cries

And valiant tries

Of bureaucratic meddling

And so we shall

Bid fond farewell

To Eurozone and euros

The corner turned

And lesson learned

No government by Bureaus

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

And Down The Stretch They Come

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The rapidly approaching European debt crisis is like a horse race. Will Merkelbaby make it to the wire first and save the day? Or will Greek Default lead the entire field over the rail and into the infield pond. I can hear the track announcer now. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen! What a beautiful day for the races. Today’s feature race is the 100 trillion Euro stakes race, the European Crisis Derby. The favorite at 1 to 5 is Greekdefault, ridden by a committee from Brussels, and carrying twelve hundred and forty-two pounds, the distance, around the world at least once. And now the horses are at the gate, and THEY’RE OFF!

 

 

“Merkelbaby stumbles at the gate

Sarkozylad takes early lead

With Referendum close behind

Then Pensioner, a handsome steed

It’s Layabout now, closing fast

With Greekcafe now on the rail

Then Merkelbaby saving ground

Then ten lengths back it’s Neverfail

Around the first turn Spanishfly

And Romannights are neck and neck

With Greekdefault far in the rear

Furlongs to go, so what the heck

And down the backstretch Greekcafe

And Layabout are running hard

Now changing leads Sarkozylad

Is passed by Verse-afirebard

NOW DOWN THE STRETCH AND HEADING HOME!

It’s Merkelbaby running wide

With Greekdefault now on the rail

And coming fast, oh what a ride!

A photo finish at the wire

It’s Merkelbaby by a nose

With Greekdefault a beaten Place

The Euro saved at market close!”

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE

 

 

What If Tuesday Never Comes

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In the old Popeye comic strip, Wimpy was wont to say that he’d gladly take a hamburger today and pay for it tomorrow. That is where we are today. The United States is some twenty trillion dollars in debt, a number so large no one knows just what the figure really is. But it will have to be paid some day, some future Tuesday, because, like Wimpy, we have had our hamburgers today, with a promise to pay tomorrow. But what if Tuesday never comes?

 

 

What if Tuesday never comes

What if payment’s never due

What if debt in untold sums

Covers Earth like morning dew

Who would fund Damocles’ blade

Who would pay for what is sold

Who would sell if not be paid

What is nothing worth in gold

What if Sunday comes the lash

And the world of sugarplums

Ends on Monday with a crash

And the Tuesday never comes

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE