Twas quarter-past Hysteric, and The media did sound alarms; All froozy were the Democrats, Yarping of firearms. “Beware, my son, the Bumperstock; The muzzle-loading barrel shroud! Priced less than books, the plastic Glock, Which the Gunshow Loophole allowed! “The machinegun, bought at Wal-Mart, With silencers! And don’t forget The Shoulder-Thingy-That-Goes–UP; Likewise, the Chainsaw
In the year of Hugh Hefner’s demise, 'Twas a season of hues and of cries. Though the media mob might Have hoped to harm the Right— It has largely turned out otherwise. Harvey Weinstein’s case started it all— And this autumn became his big Fall, As details were confirmed, All of Hollywood squirmed.
With apologies to Rudyard Kipling. “What’s on the news this mornin’, Sarge?” said Files-on-Parade.“More signs of the Apocalypse,” his Platoon Sergeant said.“Hey, Sarge, how come you turned it off?” said Files-on-Parade.“ ‘Cause I can’t stand to hear no more,” the Platoon Sergeant said.“For they’re releasing Bowe Berghdahl; they have let him off scot-free,“He’s said he’s
Why,” inquired the Psalmist, “do the heathen rage?” That’s a question to revisit, in every age. If King David were to ask me that today, I’d reply: “I suppose they did not get their way.” Why do the coyotes howl at the moon? Though it is a particularly soulful tune, Those aren’t astronomers,
With apologies to Edgar Allen Poe . . . Politics, corrupt and dreary, left me discouraged and weary, Pondering a faltering nation none seemed willing to restore. While I mused upon our Founding, suddenly there came a pounding, Frantic, echoing, resounding—sounding at my chamber door. “ ’Tis some idiot,” I muttered, “pounding
Tell me, have you picked a costume for your campus Trick-or-Treating? Nowadays, it bears repeating, you had best take special care. The occasion may be festive, but the “crybullies” are restive, And they’re utterly obsessed; witch-hunts might happen anywhere. So, no sarongs, no kimonos; no sombreros—those are no-no’s. In fact, if you’d avoid
In the reign of Barack the Anointed, Him whom they called “the Transparent One,” His SecState got a half-a-mil kickback For the sale of Uranium One. In the context of a “Russia reset” (Which was over 'ere it had begun) It appears He-Who-Led-From-Behind didn’t mind Her “baksheesh” for Uranium One. “What thou dost,
She didn’t know what she signed up for,She does not understand it at all—Why not use, for political ambush,A Gold Star family’s condolence call?She didn’t know what she signed up for,When she launched her preemptive attack—She’d assumed that the rules of engagementSpecified that no one could fight back.She didn’t know what she signed up
Ben Arnold tried to sell West Point— Attempting, in his spite To hand over a fortress To our foes, without a fight. The fort became a school; a place Of trial and misery— And that “hell upon the Hudson” Forged a nation’s chivalry. The uniforms were grey, The honor code was black and
The action-movie heroine,(Stance dramatic, costume tight)Defeats predatory villainsWith her righteous wrath and might.They’re heavier by thirty pounds,Most of it’s muscle mass—She lines ‘em up and knocks ‘em down.(An expert choreographs.)The lady never loses—That would be no fun to see;The audience revels in herInvincibility.She needs no rescuer.She gives no damsel’s distress call—A suggestion that she’s
