Long ago, on a bluff overlooking the Potomac. John MacCain returned home from battle. On his way, he came across three strange witches. Before his arrival, they plotted and planned a most dismal fate for MacCain.
Thunder and lightning. Enter three Witches
There to meet with MacCain
A sailor’s wife had patience long,
And waited, and waited, and waited:–
Her husband’s to Tonkin gone, master o’ the Flying Tiger:
But in a cage he thither wail,
Just like a rat without a tail,
He’ll do, He’ll do, and He’ll do.
We will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his ten-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid:
Weary countless years
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tossed.
Look what I have.
A plane, a plane!
Come, here, limpeth John MacCain.
Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me more:
By Uncle Ho’s death I know I am thane of Hanoi;
But how of Arizona? Goldwater of Arizona lives,
A prosperous gentleman; and to be king
Stands not within the prospect of belief,
No more than to be Arizona. Say from whence
You owe this strange intelligence? or why
Upon this blasted heath you stop my way
With such prophetic greeting? Speak, I charge you.
Greater than my father? And Grandpa too?
Tell me more! What say you?
Into thin air; they couldn’t stay?
I sure like what they had to say!
And so, MacCain left that day with this new idea in his mind. He plotted and planned. He connived and contrived. With his wife, the ever-shrewd Lady MacCain they climbed and climbed the ivory tower, building alliances and allegiances that would bring MacCain to his destined place.
Years later, MacCain, indeed the thane of Arizona, desperately sought the throne also promised him. He sought the strange witches for a special spell, a binding pact that would assure him his prize. The strange sisters knew his intentions and were already mixing the special potion.
A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron.
Add a drop of Nazi snot.
Tax returns of gambling stake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of Christian and toe of Jew,
Drums of war – throw in a slew,
Soldier’s tongue and Hannity’s sting,
Keating’s leg and Palin’s wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
Chained to war in the gulf.
Make five friends of friends of Bush
Down upon your knees and pray.
Virginian coal and Ohio church,
Lest you leave them in the lurch.
For the ingredients of our vat.
Standing there in filthy rags!
I may be thin on top and you call me runt,
But I don’t paint on makeup like a trollop, you cu…
You promised me better than that of my fathers,
Yet here I stand, no higher than Goldwater.
I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name,
It felt good to get out of the rain.
I’ve snuggled with Keating off in the Bahamas.
His money can’t help me gut punch Obama.
The White Castle is in sight, I see.
Help deliver it unto me.
I’ve embraced everything I once despised.
I’ve sold my soul, I’ve compromised.
Even till destruction sicken; answer me
To what I ask you.
Call ’em; let me see ’em. Grrrrrrr!
Thunder. First Apparition: a bald Head
Oh, ‘tis you, Karl!
Heh! Heh! That’s super! I’ll get you, Barack!
I’ll get you for showing me up on Iraq.
Funny you should mention that long bloody war,
Here’s a ghost of a child, one of so many more.
Thunder. Second Apparition: A bloody Child
Just be violent and malicious and vindictive.
Unleash my rage and this race is all done.
I’ll take off the gloves, and sling some mud,
I’ll rile my base, I’ll call for his blood.
I will hurl at my foe the very skeletons I hide
Accuse him of my sins, and let the people decide.
And if that doesn’t bring the sheep to my call,
My pitbull Palin will persuade them all.
Obama’s too kind and trusting and fair.
We have vitriol and toxic hot air.
Thunder. Third Apparition: a Child crowned, with a tree in his hand. He is surrounded by merry crowds dancing, singing and laughing all around.
And what do they sing?
‘Tis hard for you, but you can do it
Be lion-mettled, proud; but take no care
No need to worry with war in the air.
MacCain will not be vanquished until
Peace has come to the City on the Hill.
Oh Boy! Oh Goody! I have nothing to fret,
Haven’t felt this good since my last Vegas bet!
War firm in hand and spreading my rage,
Peace will never come to us in this age.
Soon I’ll be crowned, soon I’ll have won.
Then maybe my father will be proud of his son.
But I must have two terms, to vanquish my past.
Tell me, how long can my kingly reign last?
A show of Eight Kings, the last with a mirror in his hand; Obama following.
Thou art too like the spirit of Obama: down!
There I see a long line of kings
And yet I can not believe these things!
They do not look like kings of the past.
They look so common, from every caste!
I see a poor farm boy holding his girl.
For these does the true flag unfurl?
These can’t be kings, they do not fit
There is no throne for those people to sit.
What happened to white? What happened to rich?
What happened to my reign? Tell me, you witch!
There I see a skinny young man, and
A tall and strong woman holding his hand.
How can this happen? How can this be?
Why oh why do you show this to me?
I felt so high, now I feel so low.
Ay, sir, all this is so: but why
Stands MacCain thus amazedly?
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprites,
And show the best of our delights:
I’ll charm the air to give a sound,
While you perform your antic round:
That this great king may kindly say,
Our duties did his welcome pay.
Music. The witches dance.
Ah… that’s better. Bring a Bourbon with ice.
This feels like Vegas. Let’s roll some dice!