Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Playing the Field


I really don’t think, when scanning the group
Of topics I’d wish to explore,
I’d come to a stop at panda bear poop
And say, “How I wish to know more!”

But federal grants and research awards
Are difficult things to attain,
And alternate fuel quite often accords
A seat in the public domain.

I’ll keep that in mind, if ever I’m up
For spending a night on the town,
And happen to sit, while having a cup,
Adjacent to Ms. Ashli Brown.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

The Common Loon


By sometime Tuesday afternoon
I’ll morph into a common loon.
And if not Tuesday, sometime soon;
Perhaps on Saturday at noon.

For climate change in May and June,
As measured from the large pontoon
That sails about my deep lagoon,
Will obfuscate the harvest moon.

And once the harvest moon is hewn,
The country will not be immune
To weather like the spring monsoon
That swells the rivers of Rangoon.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Punitive Damages


I plan to sue my mother,
And dear old dad’s estate,
For how they made me suffer
From ages two to eight.

My yearly birthday parties,
I’m sure they will confess,
Were singular in purpose:
Emotional distress.

For me, no fancy presents,
No cash or bonds or stocks;
Instead the wrapping paper
Held underwear and socks.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

The Optical Illusion


With Irene moving up the coast
Obama took the lead,
Positioning the cameramen
With bold and striking speed.

The pictures show proficiency
At placing photo crews,
In spots that show his expertise –
And make the evening news.

No leading from behind this time,
With photo ops in play,
And images for use in ads
Around election day.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Vertical Limit


Another day,
A new report,
Reminding me
That I’m too short.

My height and weight
Do not compute:
I’m far too wide
From head to boot.

If I could stand
But six foot-eight,
My height would match
My current weight.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Union Rights Poster


You have the right to join as one
And form a union shop,
To bargain for outrageous pay
For leaning on a mop.

You may as well negotiate
A change in rules too,
Which guarantees the work of one
Will now be done by two.

You may just get a pension plan
We can’t afford to pay,
And go on strike to shorten up
The average working day.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

American Acceptionalism


Joe Biden is the type of man
Who goes to China and Japan,
And has the nicest things to say
To Asians with the cash to pay
For debt that’s rated double-A.

His sole concern was making sure
That China won’t be premature
In selling off the worth-less notes
On which the US market floats –  
Until Obama has his votes.

And leave it up to Uncle Joe
To demonstrate how far he’d go
To guarantee yuan and fen
Will flow until the current men
Have won the White House once again.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Poor Sister Carol


Poor Sister Carol has been scarred,
And hoisted with her own petard:
She pushed Obama’s health care bill,
And now is forced to buy the pill.

I wonder, though, if her dismay
Is caused by what she’s forced to pay,
Instead of all the moral ill
That she accrues with every pill.

In spite of what she has to lose,
I think it odd she would excuse
The acts of those who choose to kill,
While standing fast against the pill.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

The Highway to Hell


When I am looking for a path
To lead me straight to hell,
I’ll want to find a seasoned guide
Who knows the place as well.

When sifting through the resumes
To find a perfect guide,
I’ll look for certain timeless traits
In those who have applied.

I’ll focus on the applicants
From whence there are the most
Degenerates and deviants:
The California Coast.

Within that group of candidates
I’ll winnow down the pile,
To those in film or government,
Or union rank and file.

Monday, August 22, 2011

The Essay


The reason, sir, I missed the date
To hand my homework in,
Relates to weather in Japan –
And not to beer or gin.

Had Europeans not been caught
In economic doom,
My essay would have rivaled those
Of Bacon, Locke and Hume.

And had the Arab Spring not spawned
One hundred Days of Rage,
I surely would have written more
Than just the title page.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Answering Machine Message


Don’t bother leaving me your name,
Or date and time you called;
I’m on the road to Illinois –
Unless my car has stalled.

I’m headed for Chicago now,
And plan to soon reside,
With all the sweet and liberal folks
There on the old South Side.

Since losing both my job and house
I’ve lived in dire straits,
But I’ve been blessed by all the gods
And smiled on by fates.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Alien Adventures


Oh, I believe in aliens,
Though none I’ve ever seen;
But I believe they fly about
And watch o’er my routine.

I tell my darling little boys
To always eat their peas,
Or aliens will come at night
And give their heads a squeeze.

I give advice to all my peers
To mend their evil ways:
Sell off the carbon-belching cars
That cause the summer haze.

If aliens see ocean tides
And seas begin to rise,
Or global warming ticking up,
They’ll cut us down to size.

Friday, August 19, 2011

The Modern Scientist


If I could give a quarter horse
A long and pointed horn,
Would he still be a quarter horse
Or be a unicorn?

If I could change a chicken’s beak
Into a gator’s snout,
I wonder if he’d look for seeds,
Or gorge himself on trout?

If I could tweak the DNA
Of humans now and then,
I might create a master race,
And get on CNN.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Charge of the Left Brigade

With apologies to Alfred, Lord Tennyson, author of The Charge of the Light Brigade


Half a mil, half a tril,
Half from our lenders,
Into a mountain of debt
Roared the big spenders.
Forward with stimulus!
Ramp up the printing press!
Into a mountain of debt
Roared the big spenders.

Forward the Left Brigade!
Hide from our debt downgrade.
Who in the country knows
We are the offenders?
Spend up the debt sky high.
Spend ’til the debtors cry.
Spend ’til the well is dry.
Into a mountain of debt
Roared the big spenders.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Georgie Willie


Georgie Willie, Tiger Lily,
Wouldn’t vote for any filly.
If you wear a blouse or skirt,
Georgie goes on high alert.

Georgie Willie, Button Down,
Sees a girl and wants to frown.
When they win on caucus day,
Georgie wants to run away.

Georgie Willie, Big Bow Tie,
Gives the girls the evil eye.
If one is the nominee,
Georgie Willie won’t agree.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

A Democrat or Hypocrite?


A Democrat or hypocrite?
I get the two confused.
In Warren Buffett’s case I’d say
The two of them have fused.

When Buffett wrote his little piece,
He had one goal in mind:
Providing cover for the folks
With whom he’s intertwined.

For he’s connected at the hip
To President Barack;
And he’s now propping Barry up
Just like a penny stock.

Monday, August 15, 2011

The Magic Bus


Obama’s got a magic bus –
He’s given up on jets;
It’s loaded to the roof with plans,
With peas and cigarettes.

He’ll roll through parts of Iowa
And Minnesota too;
Perhaps he’ll stop in Illinois,
Or maybe drive on through.

He plans to speak on joblessness,
The poor economy,
And how his term in office has
Been great for you and me.

He’ll brag on how the tide has turned
And how we’re on the mend,
If voters will just stick with him
Until the bitter end.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

A Jolt for the Volt


Obama spent 300 million
For 150 new jobs.
   He built factories
   To make batteries
For Volts when we really want Saabs.

The Volts get a government discount
Of 7.5k per sale.
   Just 2k have sold,
   Or so we are told,
Which spells epic government fail.

So now they have upped all the standards
On what mpg is allowed,
   They hope for a jolt
   In sales for the Volt:
The Bolsheviks all would be proud.

On jobs and government:

Saturday, August 13, 2011

The Slaughter House


Since born on empty promises
And nursed on tricks and lies,
The sacred cow, Obamacare,
Has lurched to its demise.

It stumbles through the narrow chute
That leads it to the floor,
Where wait the executioners
To do their sacred chore.

It wanders through from post to post
Where men in flowing robes,
Now measure and review its girth
And poke it with their probes.

Friday, August 12, 2011

The Abdominous Strain


May the bullies that batter the buttery boys
Be brought up on federal writs,
And the gadflies who gape at the gallon-sized gals
Be ground into granular bits.

For us fatties have found a fantastic new foil
To fend off the fiends and our foes:
The Safe Schools Act will supply us with succor
And siphon off all of our woes.

For if children can chide the chubby among us
The government ought to be keen
To suspend all the salaries at schools that slip
From teachers on up to the dean.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Catastrophic Computer Collapse

…for which I blame Al Gore.

I caught a little virus
Inside my CPU,
Which made my ones and zeros
Go horribly askew.

My bits and bytes were broken,
My Windows were all smashed,
And Microsoft Security
Went belly up and crashed.

I hope sometime tomorrow
I’ll have a new vaccine,
That keeps my bytes all biting,
And keeps my bits all clean.

Until I’m up and running
I’ll pout and pace the floor,
And curse computer hackers,
And swear at Albert Gore.

More Al Gore posts:

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The New Nixons


When Richard Milhous Nixon
Would use the IRS
To audit his opponents,
They killed him in the press.

But Dennis J. Kucinich
Apparently is free,
To make demands for data
From folks at S&P.

The downgrade has endangered
The Democratic way
Of spending with no limits,
And now there’s hell to pay.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Ballad of a Triple-A Feller


I went to see my banker
To score a little loan.
I offered up the trailer
My daddy used to own.
He shook his head and grunted,
He showed me to the door,
And carried on a little bit
About my credit score.

I had to tell my daughter
She can’t get newer clothes,
And tell my pretty woman
She can’t replace her nose.
I’ve gone from twelve- to six-packs,
And quit my daily dip.
But now the night is callin
For me to let ’er rip.

Chorus:
’Cause I’m a triple-A feller
With a double-A wife,
And a single-A trailer,
And a broken Bowie knife.
And I don’t give a hoot
What the bankers have to say,
’Cause my momma always told me
I’m a golden triple-A.

Monday, August 8, 2011

The RINO


Observe the voter over there,
Naïve and mostly unaware;
Unable to divine the truth,
And fickle at the voting booth.

He listens to the evening news,
Despite its liberal left-wing views,
And claims we ought to be austere,
But his support is insincere.

He first demands a budget fight,
But rails on Congress, left and right,
And then expresses his surprise
When we attempt to compromise.

The fickle and erratic bent
Of voters that I represent,
Reminds me to amend my goals
To what I read in daily polls.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Democrat


Observe the wicked millionaire
Reclining in his leather chair:
He drinks his port and smokes cigars,
And sits on wealth that should be ours.

He has a butler and a maid,
A chauffeur and a lawn brigade
That keeps his mansion like a shrine,
With money that is rightly mine.

He travels in a corporate jet
With members of the wealthy set
Who buy champagne and dry Chablis,
With riches meant for you and me.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Friday, August 5, 2011

Womb to Tomb


Kathleen the Grate revealed her slate
Of guidelines and government rules:
These apron strings require things
From merchants of policy pools.

And wouldn’t you know her list would show
A mandate to offer the pill.
They must purvey, with no co-pay,
Prescriptions that also can kill.

I think on back to Bart Stupak
Who promised we’d not spend a dime
Aborting youth; but here’s the truth:
They knew it would happen in time.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Book of Ely


Of late, the great debate
Regards the life and fate
Of Ely’s airport gate,
Which serves the Silver State.

The good old FAA
Has programs to defray
The cash one needs to pay
To fly the Ely way.

So daily, six or eight,
Will fly from Vegas straight
To Ely’s airport gate,
At quite a discount rate.

Indeed, you heard that right:
Just six or eight, despite
The four-grand underwrite,
Will daily use the site.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

One Flew Over the Caucus


A trillion-five in deficits
And ten times that in debt,
Would make an honest congressman
Break out in hives and sweat.

But some have found the antidote
To wipe out that disease:
Just borrow ’til the country’s broke,
Then up the tax and fees.

This miracle of medicine
Was surely on display,
As Doyle from the Quaker state
Got up to have his say.

He lashed out at the GOP
And tossed out in the end:
“That little group of terrorists
Reduced what we can spend!”

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Canine Copter Caper


The couple took their Labrador
Far up the rocky trail,
But on their way back down again
The dog was dragging tail.

The pooch’s paws were plenty sore;
The walk became too hard.
Too bad the dog had not been born
A nimble Saint Bernard.

A helicopter was dispatched
To bring the party home,
So Baxter could resume his walks
Where city dogs should roam.

I wonder if the rescue team,
If given half a chance,
Would take the dog and leave the pair
Back in the vast expanse.

Other animal posts:

Monday, August 1, 2011

The Bogeyman on the Balcony


I see him clearly in the trees.
I see him hanging from the frieze.
He lurks on Truman’s Balcony,
And comes at night to pester me.

I see him in the Briefing Room:
He causes economic doom.
I see him in the Colonnade,
Destroying balance in our trade.

When unemployment starts to rise,
I see my ghoul in disguise.
He causes plunging GDP,
And sends his minions after me.