Friday, March 29, 2013

Poem of the Day


Good Citizens

 

The high school star quarterback

Who rapes his prom date

The pious priest

Who molests children

The talk show host

Who tells lies for fun and profit

The President who orders thousands to die

For his legacy

All pretty good citizens

In the eyes of the blind.

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Poem of the Day


The Executives Are Cleaning House

 
They’re talking to the accountants

And lying to their wives

The executives thought

They were in the clear

Brother Bush at the helm

Oil man Cheney listens only to them.

Now they’re going from the

White house to the big house.

Bush and Cheney blame everyone else

And lock their doors.

Friday, March 8, 2013

Hey Mister Tangerine Man

 
Wasn't that a great old Dylan song? I don't think he had John Boehner in mind
when he wrote it, though.
 
John Boehner's not a bad person. He grew up in a bar, after all. 
 
But he's lost control of congress, and doesn't have the fortitude to stand up to the tea party extremists. Part of this, like so many of the old line republicans, is simply self-preservation. If you go against the tea party you lose the next primary.  Mister Tangerine Man, with his healthy nicotine and whisky glow, really doesn't have a choice if he wants to keep his job. Still, it would be nice to see some of these reps putting the country ahead of their guaranteed life employment.
 
The reps have been so happy to see fed workers not get a pay raise the past two years and now an unpaid day off every week. Wouldn't it be nice to see congress take a 10 or 20 percent cut in their pay until the sequester is resolved? 
The Fox News nuts and CNBC wackos are all on the same page now - the sequester isn't going to hurt anyone, except teachers, feds, women, and the poor. Who cares about them? 
 
 
Here's another poem to take you back to those days of yore
when a man named W ruled the land.
 
 
Cowboys and Indians
by the unknown poet
 
 
There is the John Wayne swagger
The tough guy smirk
The Crawford cowboy
Clears brush for a living
And it pays well
To decimate the land.
 
The Texas cowboy and his sidekick
with the rattlesnake snarl
Work hard all day
Branding their posse with a W.
The cattle follow them
Or face  Dick’s prod.
 
Baghdad’s a dusty ghost town
Everyone’s afraid of the high noon light.
Bring ‘em on,  W. crows
But there’s no one left to die.
Mission accomplished, he declares,
Waves Saddam’s Pistol high in the air
And rides his bicycle off into the burning sunset.
 
 
 
 

Saturday, March 2, 2013

A George Bush Reader


A George Bush Reader

 

See Dick run.

See Dick start a war.

See Dick hide in his bunker.

See Dick get rich.

See Dick shoot his friend.

See Dick obstruct justice.

See Dick bring the country to its knees.