Friday, January 7, 2005

Could '04 Have Been Any Verse?

Due to his strategic location on the Other Rim, Fixer gets up way before I do and is blogging his ass off while I am still deep in the arms of Morpheus. Consequently, I awaken to whatever tone he has set for the day. Kinda like the Plan of the Day that used to be nailed to the wall in the barracks. The difference is I don't have to run with it if I don't want to, but he's got a good handle on things and sometimes that's the thing to do. Due also to the time difference, I find stuff sometimes that comes out later. It all works out.

After reading his post on the song parody The Rumsfeld Rag (or scroll down) and liking it, my poetic muse was up an' runnin', on the prowl for some more. I done found it!

From Counterpunch:
Strutting, Smirking, as if the Mad Plan Was Working
Out Old Year
By FRED GARDNER

Out old year, you weren't pretty
Out with Janet Jackson's titty
Out with Bill O'Reilly's loofah
(Which made miss Macris hit the roofa)

Go get lost, two thousand four
We really cannot take much more
Of Ahnold and Maria Shriver,
Rudolph Giuliani's driver

Paul Bremer's failed mission
Fallujah's demolition
George Bush strutting, smirking
As if the mad plan was working

The coalition of the "willing"
The Passion of Curt Schilling
Ascendant Talibangelists
>From Charleston to Los Angeles

Please already drop the curtain
On Cheney, Dick and Haliburton
Privatizing everything
Down to the Army's dishwashing

His daughter Mary selling beer
His wife Lynn, selling fear
His pseudo-rival Colin Powell
A hawk passing for an owl

And Prissy Condoleeza Rice
Let us make a sacrifice
Of her and Rupert Murdoch
Karl Rove, Kid Rock

David Stern, Donald Trump
(among the very first we'd bump)
Berlesconi, Tony Blair,
Biden with his phony hair

A Bronx cheer and demerits
For Bob Novak, Marty Peretz
Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity
Chip chip chipping at our sanity

Global warming, that don't frighten
Best seller Michael Crichton
Glaciers melting? What me worry
It won't happen in a hurry

And when we die we just grow wings
And leave behind the underlings
Evolution's just a theory
Have some Paxil feel more cheery

Take Cialis, have some sex
Celebrate with Celebrex
You always said you needed "strokes"
Now's your chance step right up, folks

Eli Lilly, Pfizer, Merck
They all know their drugs don't work
But nothing's standing in their way
Since they bought the FDA

Enough of two thousand four
Take your baggage out the door
Hurricanes and beheadings
Much ado 'bout gay weddings

Your Intifadas and crusades
Pack 'em up and quickly fade
You don't deserve to survive
Make room for two thousand five!

Done before the wave hit
(Now why even save it,
A trivial poem, a silly ode) a
Really catastrophic coda.

Did I mention that my poetic muse is a cynical old fart that loves satiric wit?

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