by Panic Weather » Thu Sep 19, 2013 10:58 pm
One poem deserves another. To the tune of nothing in particular. Caution to the easily offended.
Circa 2008: When the Bush Administration was housekeeping for the incoming 3rd Bush term (for the sake of the non-sub rosa narrative components of the BHO Admin, tying up loose ends like finding a fall guy for the Anthrax Attacks, getting rid of Michael Connell in a plane crash, ending Tim Russert's useful but too-covert-aware services, et al):
The Ballad of Tim Russert's Underworld Adventure
Eyes sewn shut, embalmed & dressed,
Just like each broadcast at his best,
Rigor mortis, Insect mess,
Remove your hat out of respect
Tim's screaming now, no one can see.
No more new Plamegate testimony.
Dead men tell no tales, Timmy.
No book deals now, no more money.
Tim's crackling on a rotisserie
To the solemn applause of "Ghost Detainees"
Your future free of rest and peace
Worms in your brain a sweet release
Your wife, kids, childhood memory,
No don't look back Tim, you might see
across miles of dead Iraqi meat.
See what your whole life meant, really
Tim served Cheney and 9/11,
Tim served Tim, a loyal pawn
There's no escape now, your spin is spun:
What Tim's life could have been is gone
Over and over Tim will see
images eternally
ride your childhood bike Timmy
into the land of nightmares sweet