The Year in Verse
A Politickles Retrospective
Suffered three years so far of Obama
And Michelle, our new substitute mama:
Cannot wait ’til he’s canned
And we won’t have to stand
Yet another full year of his drama.
Once in time a virgin birth
Incarnated on the earth
God’s Son despised
To redeem us by His worth.
For approving operations injurious
And attesting to alibis spurious,
Eric merits a cell
In a hellish hotel,
Doing time with the fast and the furious.
“If you really would like to assist us,
Please bring everything on our list, plus
A candidate we
Can support heartily —
Because that’s what we want most for Christmas!”
Many ugly and arrogant faces
Overrun and defile public places;
While Obama and spouse
Violate the White House,
We’ll ignore other occupied spaces.
Thursday’s carcass long after supplies
Turkey Sandwiches, Stews, and Pot Pies;
Turkey Omelets, Fettucini,
Turkey Gumbo, à la King, and Surprise.
Organizing a movement’s no small feat,
Nor securing a venue where all meet:
See the cephalopods,
Queued in querulous squads,
Launch a protest called Octopi Wall Street.
If I live long enough, I may see
Every nation on earth truly free,
Every tyranny tackled,
Every subject unshackled —
What a glorious day that would be!
“I may act like Elmer Fudd
And appear to be a dud,
But I’m truly spectacular,
The awesome Count Barackula,
And I want to suck your blood.”
All that’s needed are several swift whacks
From a strict constitutional axe:
To destroy the machine
Built in 1913,
Reestablish the indirect tax.
At Zuccotti Park we tried,
But the line was long outside.
Can someone please show
Us a good place to go
That’s not currently occupied?
Barry’s Bandits have found a new way
To get rich without working a day:
They’ve no need for a gun,
‘Cause they just use the sun
To get ‘loans’ that they’ll never repay.
“Stop the presses! Big story in play!
It’s a Pulitzer Prize-winning day!
Michelle’s gone to the market
And she’s shopping at Target!
Get a camera crew there right away!
This economy sure is a sad one
And it looks like we’re in for a bad run,
‘Cause we can’t expect gobs
Of legititmate jobs
From a guy who has never once had one.
“All you skeptics who try to besmirch
Our beliefs will be left in the lurch
As we celebrate dearth
And increase our net worth
At St. Albert Gore’s Climate Change Church.”
Our brave battle for self-preservation
Must address the domestic predation
Of those traitors and fools
— All those socialist tools —
Who are hoping to change our great nation.
“in are distrik we, de bestes
way mutch, betta den de restes
we mist, lotsa daze
but gots, strat A’s
cuz are teacha, fixt are testes”
Evil Earthlings refuse to cut back!
Angry aliens launch an attack!
— NASA’s now using “science”
To foster compliance
With the goals of the globalist claque!
It is time to let go of the dears
We have formed in their faith 18 years —
And to spend, as we planned,
More than one hundred grand
On their faith-killing college careers.
“Save Santorum, Newt Gingrich, and Cain,
Male debaters wore ties blue and plain;
And, though Bachmann chose gray,
Darker suits won the day.
This is Chris Wallace from the campaign.”
“If you cut back on some of your snacks,
You’d have bellies as flat as Barack’s!”
“Well, a budget’s a diet:
Maybe Barry should try it
And resist the temptation to tax!”
“The fatigues we have now are so tacky!
Could we please go with something more wacky —
Something showing more flesh
In black leather or mesh,
With a boa of feathered pink khaki?”
“Oh, Barack, this is fabulous — still,
Can we really afford such a thrill?”
“Stop your worrying, honey,
It isn’t our money:
Someone else will be footing the bill.”
Practice patronizing pleas,
Urge adults to “eat their peas,”
Cultivate a flair
For pure hot air,
Now you speak Obamaese!
When your mom wants to go out and play,
You had better stay out of her way:
Never make her feel bad
For the child that she had,
Or you might not wake up the next day.
It couldn’t get absurder:
“We mustn’t judge or hurt her!
It’s really sad!
She must be mad —
She’s just committed murder!”
Our Creator has blessed us a lot
Since the sound of that round-the-world shot,
But how long will we be
Still the land of the free
If the people don’t know what we’ve got?
“How things change from day to day,
What’s taboo becomes okay:
Though once arrested
For having molested,
I now work for TSA!”
What a fashion sense he had,
Mixing stripes and checks with plaid!
And the jokes that he told,
All so corny and old!
How I miss my dear old dad!
Though the leader in question was hesitant
To discuss where his parents were resident,
Still his mother was smitten
By a subject of Britain
And young Winston could never be president.
I’ve got the world on a screen,
I’m tweeting with a co-ed,
Got a thing about my weiner —
What a word! Where’s my wife? I’m enlarged.
It’ll make her brain blow,
Or, again, it might offend her —
Lusty me! Can’t you see? I’m enlarged.
As long as I have my flings.
I’d be a really stupid schmo
If I should ever let her know.
Oh, you ought to get an oscar, “Mayor” Weiner,
For the explanation of your tweet,
But I doubt you’ll get an oscar, “Mayor” Weiner,
Or even keep your legislative seat.
Little Anthony had to get meaner,
Being hung with a handle like Weiner,
Having always his surname
Being used as a slur name:
Could cognomens be any obscener?
If Obamacare’s such a great deal,
Why the effort to con and conceal?
Why the granting of waivers
As personal favors?
Why the fervor for total repeal?
We Americans surely are prone
To big bodies with minimal tone:
If Michelle wants to witness
To physical fitness,
She should shed a few pounds of her own!
More attacks from al Qaeda ahead!
Rising prices for milk, eggs, and bread!
Higher government spending!
Higher taxes impending!
— And Osama bin Laden’s still dead!
Taking years to amass information
And exactly determine location,
What at last have we found
Buried deep underground
But Obama’s birth documentation?
When tornadoes come whirling your way,
You get down on your knees and you pray:
You’re just glad you’re not dead,
Have a roof overhead —
Nothing else seems to matter that day.
While walking with the abbot,
Which was his daily habit,
A monk who spied
Hares side by side
Said, “That’s the east-er rabbit!”
You’ve got thousands in debt to repay,
But you can’t make that debt go away
If you keep on defending
Your gross overspending
Or you cut back just pennies a day.
“We are in your schools now and polluting
All the innocent minds we’re rebooting:
There’ll be total immersion
In every perversion
And the schools will be safe for recruiting.”
“You may think that I haven’t a plan,
But from Libya it’s on to Sudan,
And from there to Nairobi
To quell kinsmen who know me
As a sly, native-born Kenyan man.”
“Just like Cronkite and Edward R. Murrow,
We’re committed, determined, and thorough:
In the media, the schools,
With our radical rules,
We’re the moles that unceasingly burrow.”
While their juvenile antics may irk
Those who stay at their posts and don’t shirk,
How much better things run —
How much more we get done —
When the Democrats don’t come to work!
In New Orleans, where everyone knows
How to scramble for carnival throws,
It’s just one day of fun,
Then the madness is done —
But the madness in Madison grows.
“We will tar fossil fuels as unclean,
Promote other resources as green.
There’s a catch — which, of course, is
That those greener resources
Are controlled by our red war machine.”
“I don’t care if your dad’s out of work
Or state budgets are going berserk:
I’m a privileged creature,
A public school teacher,
An incompetent, overpaid jerk.”
Oh, thank goodness the government’s there
To precaution and make me beware:
I’m now starving to death,
Blue from holding my breath,
‘Cause I’m frightened of food and of air.
Whom does he hope he is hooking
When he claims our economy’s cooking?
Are more people employed
Or just lost in the void
‘Cause they simply have given up looking?
Revolution’s a natural desire
When we lack what our natures require,
But it loses its glow
When oppressed people go
From the frying pan into the fire.
There’s no benefit to coal
If you cannot dig a hole,
And the value is nil
Of oil you can’t drill.
Who would favor such control?
Whatever the woe they’re bewailin’,
It’s not long ‘fore the Left starts assailin’
The “climate of hate”
That right-wingers create —
And their favorite bête noire, Sarah Palin.
We’re remiss to dismiss and deride
Those who ask if Barack’s qualified
If it cannot be sworn
That he is “natural born,”
Then Obama has something to hide.
From her previous grandeur delusion,
Nancy’s entered a state of confusion;
She’s completely perplexed
As she hears a strange text:
The Republican-read Constitution.