posted on February 11, 2003 08:06:36 PM new
Subject: a song for the day
Sung to the tune of "If you're happy and you know it"
If you cannot find Osama, bomb Iraq.
If the markets are a drama, bomb Iraq.
If the terrorists are frisky,
Pakistan is looking shifty,
North Korea is too risky,
Bomb Iraq.
If we have no allies with us, bomb Iraq.
If we think someone has dissed us, bomb Iraq.
So to hell with the inspections,
Let's look tough for the elections,
Close your mind and take directions,
Bomb Iraq.
It's "pre-emptive non-aggression", bomb Iraq.
Let's prevent this mass destruction, bomb Iraq.
They've got weapons we can't see,
And that's good enough for me
'Cos it's all the proof I need
Bomb Iraq.
If you never were elected, bomb Iraq.
If your mood is quite dejected, bomb Iraq.
If you think Saddam's gone mad,
With the weapons that he had,
(And he tried to kill your dad),
Bomb Iraq.
If your corporate fraud is growin', bomb Iraq.
If your ties to it are showin', bomb Iraq.
If your politics are sleazy,
And hiding that ain't easy,
And your manhood's getting queasy,
Bomb Iraq.
Fall in line and follow orders, bomb Iraq.
For our might knows not our borders, bomb Iraq.
Disagree? We'll call it treason,
Let's make war not love this season,
Even if we have no reason,
Bomb Iraq.
posted on February 11, 2003 08:24:13 PM new
Thanks, that's a good one! I broke a personal "no forwards" rule, copied it and forwarded it 300 times. Figuring the logarithmic spawn of email forwards, it should reach all the "conservative" semi-professional forwarders in say, 2 minutes or so, and forever after have a life of it's own!
posted on February 11, 2003 08:30:40 PM new
I agree! I'm trying to whittle down my spam list so everyone who should see it does. Our daughter-in-law sent it to us from Silicon Valley, home of the nerds and squares. I don't know where she got it, but she works for Intuit.
posted on February 12, 2003 11:48:57 AM new
David Curtin contributes this ode to pro-Saddam protesters:
Six feet beneath the punished ground of Halabja, lay all around those who know the blessed peace that only comes with life's surcease. Grandfathers, grandmothers, mothers, babes, peacefully moldering in their graves. Yet to the Mall the marchers came "No Blood for Oil, Not in Our Name!"
Somewhere beneath the shifting sands that slip through the inspectors' hands sarin, VX, smallpox, anthrax, wait patiently in plastic vats. Somewhere unseen by satellite a centrifuge spins day and night. The chanters' mantra stays the same "No Blood for Oil, Not in Our Name!"
And deep beneath the marble floor of palace No. 44 The Obstinate One smokes his cigar and steels himself for one last war. But as he clicks to CNN his jowly scowl becomes half-grin, to see his willing pawns proclaim "No Blood for Oil, Not in Our Name!"
From an unnamed author:
If your towers are collapsing, bomb Iraq. Airplanes hijacked by Islamics, bomb Iraq. But if you're a commie liberal With your head stuck up your gibberal, You would rather sing dumb songs than Bomb Iraq.
Cuz you have no sense of justice, you're a hack. And if it would your hair muss-tiss, you'd turn back. So you'd die like German Jews With VX gas up your nose Cuz you haven't got the guts to Bomb Iraq.
And from N. Rusk comes the "Protester's Lament":
No war for oil, George W. sucks. There's millions of us And now we're in luck. The Times interviewed me Standing in the rain, Sarandon's my hero I feel Sean Penn's pain.
I bought Sheryl's T-shirt It's karmic, you know To struggle for peace In the cameras' bright glow. Peace is the answer Whatever the question! I just keep repeating "The true villain's western."
Jim Phillips's parody of Edgar Allen Poe is called "The Raving":
Once upon a Sunday dreary, while gazing, bleak and bleary, Over many a shrill and shrieking rant of columnists galore, In my heart I felt a sinking. "Have they lost their knack for thinking?! It's enough to start me drinking!" And I must confess I swore; I confess I spat the vilest of invective as I swore, Spat and cursed, and stomped the floor.
For distinctly I remember, it was in the bright September When a blast of flame and ember marked the starting of the war, Yet this morning finds me tracking all these dodos, brains a-slacking Still insistent that we're lacking all the proof which they ignore, All the proof which, head in sand, they so conveniently ignore. Quoth the peaceniks, "We need more."
And I scarce can watch the TV without the chill of heebie jeebies At the sight of movie actors spouting off their gripe du jour. To the Jimmy Carter stand-ins (Streisand, Baldwin, Penn, Sarandon): If it's so dire, why not abandon this totalitarian shore For the greener lands of France? Depart this dark repressive shore! Quoth the peaceniks, "Nevermore!"
But there's just one valid answer to the throbbing media cancer, And the queasy timid souls for whom there's naught worth fighting for, And to Daschle's petty prattling, and Saddam's harsh saber-rattling: We must now begin the battling of this deadly cheerless chore, For should we shirk the burden of our grim and somber chore, We shall know peace . . . nevermore.
posted on February 12, 2003 01:31:55 PM new
David Curtin sure is funny! Imagine us going over to Iraq to avenge those deaths in the name of Justice when we ar repealing Affirmative Action programs without a clear replacement. No one can hardly expect us to go avenge someone else's Injustice when we won't even stay the course in righting our own.
