Sunday, February 27, 2011

The Brainwashing of Senator Franken

With apologies to Robert Service, author of The Cremation of Sam McGee


There are strange things done in the Afghan sun
      By the men who wage our wars;
The Pashto trails have their secret tales
      Of blood and death and gore;
The Khyber Pass is odd en masse,
     But the oddest you ever will find
Was a certain day that we went astray
     And got into Franken's mind.

Now the man called Al and his Senate pals
     Named McCain, Reed and Levin,
Took a pleasure trip to this comic strip
     That we call our slice of heav'n.
And when Al touched down in our Afghan town
     The General made his play:
He ordered our team to employ a scheme
     That would make Al work our way.

All the psy-op boys grabbed their tricks and toys
     And the troops that they could muster.
For what we would do was become the Sioux
     And Al would play George Custer.
First we hypnotized, then we criticized,
     Then came sleep deprivation;
But Franken was strong and before too long
     We were mad with frustration.

For sixty full hours he withstood our powers
     So we started the third degree.
We chanted and sang like an old chain gang
     But he laughed like a crazed banshee.
Then I was assigned to get in his mind
     With psychic communication,
So we went to sleep and I took the leap
     Into Al’s mental location.
    
I wandered around in his brain’s compound
     Exploring both far and wide,
But in every room it was like a tomb
     There was nothing there inside.
Then I heard a sound start to echo ’round
     And I knew Al had won, you see;
For the phrase I heard from the Senate nerd:
    Was “doggone it, people like me.”

There are strange things done in the Afghan sun
      By the men who wage our wars;
The Pashto trails have their secret tales
      Of blood and death and gore;
The Khyber Pass is odd en masse,
     But the oddest you ever will find
Was a certain day that we went astray
     And got into Franken's mind.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Barbara At The Helm

With apologies to Lord Macaulay, author of Horatius


The Democratic Congress
     With West Wing close allied
Had steady steered the ship of state,
     Against the rising tide – 
The tide of unemployment,
     Foreclosure and job loss,
The tide of shuttered business,
     And Wall Street’s double-cross.

With quantitative easing,
     With bailouts, stimuli,
With Cash for Clunkers, spending,
     As far as meets the eye,
The economic bilge pumps,
     For month on month ran hot,
Powered by the Treasury,
     By debt, by scot and lot.

And then the jewel of the crown
     The vertex, masterpiece,
The treasure of all treasures,
   The liberal golden fleece:
O’er deck and strake and gunwale
    The health care act was raised –
The GOP in chaos,
     The voters were amazed.

But when the fog had lifted,
     One heard the hue and cry
From thousands and ten thousands
     Who could no more stand by.
“Be gone,” they said, and voted
     Republican, and worse;
They cast o’er board their saviors
    And yanked the helm transverse.

The Democratic caucus
     Once steady, calm and fast
Found itself adrift, afloat
     As though afore the mast.
As cries like ‘high inflation’
     And ‘sovereign debt’ rang out
The caucus looked for issues,
     In hopes to come about.

Then up spoke wise old Barbara
     Of ‘Call me Senator’ fame.
“It’s time to turn the tables –
     It’s time that we proclaim
The deficit is harmful,
     And we can make a dent.
We’ll force the office sleepers
     To pay a sum of rent!
    
“This criminal behavior
     Should not go unrestrained.
Those condemnable House freshmen
     Should be, at once, detained.
For when I was caught kiting
     (My income to augment)
I was forced to pay it back
     Down to the last red cent.

“So stand tall, fellow members!
     Stand tall and seize the day!
For shoulder unto shoulder,
     We’ll make those freshmen pay.
Climb on aboard this issue
     Our foes we’ll overwhelm.
Our course is fixed and certain,
     For Barbara’s at the helm!”

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Those Damned Elusive Democrats

With apologies to Baroness Orczy, author of The Scarlet Pimpernel

He seeks them here, he seeks them there.
The guv'nor seeks them everywhere.
He sends the troops to bell the cats,
Those damned elusive Democrats!

For years of spending, round the clock,
The voters threw them out en bloc;
The Senate Democrat machine
Was whittled to a mere fourteen.

The voters, in this case, did err:
They left but one too many there.
Twenty are needed to convene.
Alas, the guv'nor has nineteen.

He looks for one, he looks for all,
To answer to the quorum call.
But those elusive Dems are coy,
They've left the state for Illinois!