Quoth the Maverick… “Vote Four More!”


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a long and arduous speeches by forgotten bores,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a clapping,
As if some great crowd of rednecks rapping, rapping ‘pon convention floor.
`’Tis some rookie,’ I muttered, `frapping upon the political door –
Only this, and nothing more.’

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak September,
And each Republican member wrought such glee upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow
From my blogs surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the long and unjust war –
For the long misguided battles of the ill-planned Iraq War –
Nameless here for evermore.

And with silken sad uncertain expectorate of each purple electorate
Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`’Tis but a few crazed fundamentals, leaping round about the floor –
A small band of misguided, fearful souls, clamoring for war; –
This it is, and nothing more,’

Presently my soul grew heavy; demanding then to levy,
To the T.V. said I, `Hey Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so raucously you came rapping,
And so haughtily you came flapping, yapping ‘pon arena floor,
That I scarce could quite believe you, as you threatened cursed and swore”
Anger and fear, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no American e’er dared dream since ‘04
But the anger was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the hollered word, `Traitore!’
This I whispered out an echo, a murmur of shock, to repeat, `Traitore?’
Merely this, then… so much more.

To and fro the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a yapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,’ said I, `it’s just one man shouting loud, not the feeling of the crowd;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this ugliness explore –
Let my heart be still a moment and this viciousness explore” –
‘There on Youtube I saw much… so much more!

Open here I flung five browsers, when, with a saggy suit and trousers,
In there burst a stately maverick of the mavericky days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; but with a curse and grunt dismayed me;
And, with disrespect for ladies, galloped through my chamber door –
He trod upon my photos from Dallas now strewn about the floor –
Whinnied and bucked and nothing more.

Then this white haired steed beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern grimmace ‘pon the countenance he wore,
`Though thy reappearance seems like magic, thou,’ I said, `art sure so tragic.
Ghastly grim and ancient maverick wandering from the nightly shore –
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Republican’s oily shore!’
Quoth the Maverick, `Vote Four More!’

Much I marveled this ungainly equine to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was cursed with seeing such a horse bust through his door –
Horse or beast with foul hot grunts, busted through the door,
With such a name as `Vote Four More.’

The maverick strutted around, but spoke only as to confound,
That one phrase, as if his soul in those words he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered – at least none that really mattered –
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have been duped before –
But on election day we shall heave thee!” and my hopes rose as before.’
Then the horse bayed, `Vote Four More.’

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so curtly spoken,
`Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some Rovian master whom ugly perverse disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one Party bore –
Till the dirges of his hope that resentment burden bore
Of “Oh! Just four, please… Vote FOUR more.”‘

But the maverick still was huffing all my sad soul into sloughing,
Straight I dragged my Lay-Z-Boy in front of steed and busted door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to thinking
Dread unto fear, thinking what is this ominous horse of yore –
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gruff, and ominous beast of yore
Meant in croaking `Vote Four More!’

This I sat engaged in guessing, with one syllable expressing
To the old hack whose foggy eyes now burned to my cranium’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head in pain reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining as the TV’s screechy Siren gloated o’er,
Words voiced like whistling missiles from the TV gloating o’er,
She shall meet the press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew harder, perfumed from an unseen farter
Swung by ancient Eohippus whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,’ I cried, `thy GOP hath lent thee – the jaded hacks hath spent thee
Respite – relent – and repent thee, you sold out who you were before!
Quaff and gamble! Go and spend free, and I’ll bill you for the door!’
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

`Maverick?’ scoffed I, `a deal of evil! – A Faustian pact made with a devil! –
Whether tempter sent, or whether temper tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, from the desert land enchanted –
On this trail of horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore –
You are President Bush – tell me – tell me, I implore!’
Quoth the raven, `Vote Four More.’

`Country First?!’ laughed I, `What baloney! – the “maverick” is a phoney!
By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –
Tell this soul with sorrow laden, what were you thinking with Sarah Palin?
She’s indeed a sainted maiden, yet one whom most of us deplore –
Why clasp to this odd yet radiant coquette, with whom the mob screams out for gore?
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

`Be those words our sign of parting, horse or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting –
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Republican’ oily shore!
Leave no horse hair as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my nice new door all broken! – get thy hooves right off my floor!
Take thy hoof from out my heart, and take thy form right out my door!’
Quoth the maverick, `Vote Four More.’

And the maverick, never budging, still is pacing, still begrudging
Upon my vacation pics from Dallas, still strewn about my floor;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a war hawk’s that is dreaming,
And the TV vamp sounding o’er him screaming arrows more and more;
For my vote, cast from that shadow, for which they so implore,
Again he begs me – “Vote Four More”!

Vote Four More???

Could Her Emails Be Hiding Secret Palin Baby Names?


Considering she only showed up to work about a third of the time she was supposed to, a thorough scour through her official communiques probably wouldn’t turn up much. But let’s have some fun speculatin’ as to what might be on those ding-dang pesky old emails anyhoo!

Much is made of Sarah’s lack of experience in.. well just about everything. However, making and naming babies is something she knows very well. I bet some of these secret emails contain long lists of possible baby names she had considered, or she might be considering for future progeny.

What might be some of the names she’d come up with, I wonder. She has a tendency to name her children after places, events and things important to her. Her son Track was named after her technique for finding her way home in the snow. Her daughter Piper was named after a favorite wrestling hero of the mid 80’s and it is also a tip of the hat to the many oil workers in her fair state. Her daughter Bristol is named after Sarah’s favorite pharmaceuticals company (she has since had the name legally amended to Bristol-Meyers Squibb Palin). Her youngest child Trig is named after the pesky college course that kept her bouncing around from school-to-school for many frustrating years (The course was actually Pre-algebra, but who’s gonna name their kid that, huh? Geez!).

Sarah’s still young and there’s plenty of birthin’ left in her I reckon. So, when this silly old election is over and she can get back to doin’ what she does best, what might she name her next four kids?
Considering recent events in Sarah’s life, I came up with a quick list of names she might currently be considering.

Yukon, Sled, Gauge, Trigger, Chopper, Fox, Blast, Gov Jr., Veeper, McCalin, Surge, Couric, Huffington, Kos, Limbaugh, Hannity, Sadr – oh… well, maybe not that last one.

What do you think? Offer some more names for the forthcoming Palin brood.


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The Tragedy of MacCain


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

First Witch

When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?

Second Witch

When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the ballot’s lost and won.

Third Witch

That will be ere the set of sun.

First Witch

Where the place?

Second Witch

Upon the plain.

Third Witch

There to meet with MacCain

ALL

Fair is balanced, and balanced is fair:
Spin and spin through filthy air.

First Witch

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.

Second Witch

I’ll give thee a wind.

First Witch

With which to spin and spin.

Third Witch

And I another.

First Witch

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.

Second Witch

Show me, show me.

First Witch

Here I have a pilot’s thumb,
Wreck’d as homeward he did come.

Airplane overhead

Third Witch

A plane, a plane!
Come, here, limpeth John MacCain.

ALL

The weird sisters, hand in hand,
Pollsters of the sea and land,
Thus do go about, about:
Thrice to thine and thrice to mine
And thrice again, for 2009.
Peace! the charm’s wound up.

Enter MACCAIN

MACCAIN

So foul and fair a day I have not seen.

Speak, if you can: what are you?

First Witch

All hail, MacCain! hail to thee, thane of Hanoi!

Second Witch

All hail, MacCain, hail to thee, thane of Arizona!

Third Witch

All hail, MacCain, thou shalt be king hereafter!

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.

First Witch

Lesser than your fathers, and greater.

Second Witch

Not so happy, yet much happier.

MACCAIN

Greater than my father? And Grandpa too?

Tell me more! What say you?

Witches vanish

MACCAIN

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.

Thunder.

First Witch

Twice the Maverick hath been denied.

Second Witch

Twice the hedge-pig tried and tried.

Third Witch

The elephant cries ‘Tis time, ’tis time.

First Witch

Round about the cauldron go;
In the poisoned entrails throw.
Rove, that under cold stone sat,
Seeks the head to hold the hat.
Boil him first in the charmed pot.

Add a drop of Nazi snot.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch

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.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Third Witch

Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,

Chained to war in the gulf.
Make five friends of friends of Bush

They shall give the needed push.
Throw in lies and promises all,
Climb MacCain, but do not fall,
Rant and rave and call and bay,

Down upon your knees and pray.

Virginian coal and Ohio church,
Lest you leave them in the lurch.

Time to unleash your Alaskan babe
She makes the masses rant and rave.
Make the gruel thick and fat

For the ingredients of our vat.

ALL

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.

Second Witch

Cool it with Chicago blood,
Then the spell is firm and good.

Second Witch

By the picking of his chums,
Something wicked this way comes.

Enter MACCAIN

MACCAIN

How now, you secret, black, and midnight hags!

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…
ALL

Behold! A deed without a name.

MACCAIN

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.

First Witch

Speak.

Second Witch

Demand.

Third Witch

We’ll answer.

First Witch

Say, if thou’dst rather hear it from our mouths,
Or from our masters?

MACCAIN

Call ’em; let me see ’em. Grrrrrrr!

ALL

Come, high or low;
Thyself and office deftly show!

Thunder. First Apparition: a bald Head

MACCAIN

Tell me, thou unknown power,–

Oh, ‘tis you, Karl!

First Witch

He knows your thoughts:
Hear his words, but say thou nought.

First Apparition

MacCain! MacCain! MacCain! beware Obama;
Beware the thane of Illinois. Dismiss me. Go to Omaha!

Descends

MACCAIN

Heh! Heh! That’s super! I’ll get you, Barack!

I’ll get you for showing me up on Iraq.

First Witch

He will not be commanded: here’s another,
More potent than the first.

Second Witch

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

Second Apparition

MacCain! MacCain! MacCain!

MACCAIN

Had I three rum sours, I’d hear thee.

Second Apparition

Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn.

That’s it.

Just be violent and malicious and vindictive.

Good luck!

Descends

MACCAIN

Whew! That’s easy. This could be fun.

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.

What is this
Some infant hippie like the issue of a king?
Who are all those people with flutes

And what do they sing?

ALL

Listen MacCain, but speak not to it.

‘Tis hard for you, but you can do it

Third Apparition

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.

Descends

MACCAIN

That will never be
Who can ever be so stupid as to hope for

Peace.

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?

ALL

Seek to know no more.

MACCAIN

I will be satisfied: deny me this,
And an eternal curse fall on you!

Tell me!

First Witch

Show!

Second Witch

Show!

Third Witch

Show!

ALL

Show his eyes, and grieve his heart;
Come like shadows, so depart!

A show of Eight Kings, the last with a mirror in his hand; Obama following.

MACCAIN

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.

Apparitions vanish

What, is this so?

First Witch

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.

MACCAIN

Ah… that’s better. Bring a Bourbon with ice.

This feels like Vegas. Let’s roll some dice!


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McCain’s Maverick Left Eye & A History of Presidential Infirmity


McCain’s Maverick Left Eye and a History of Presidential Infirmity

A few perceptive bloggers have commented on Sen. John McCain’s left eye and its tendency to buck the facial party line and do its own thing. In essence it is lately forging its own path – it is becoming clearer that McCain the Maverick may have a maverick left eye. Of course the significance here is that it calls further into question McCain’s health concerns. The maverick left eye of the maverick right-winger has some bloggers speculating about the possibility of a recent stroke. More to the point, this last bout of rumors calls into question McCain’s refusal to release his medical records as well as his choice of successor in V.P. running mate Gov. Sarah Palin. It may seem as if McCain’s health is receiving more-than-usual attention. Yet, these concerns are exacerbated by the fact that, if elected, McCain would be the oldest ascending president in American history. In fact he’d be older than reigning geriatric champ Ronald Reagan by nearly a full presidential term – and it is widely believed the younger Reagan may have suffered dementia for at least part of his administration. So, perhaps such medical scrutiny is warranted. Moreover, it is a perfect time to delve into our presidential past and dig up health records for some of our commanders-in-chief.

Presidential health concerns go all the way back to our humble beginnings as an upstart young nation. Throughout our history the Presidents’ true medical condition has always been kept from the public until after they’ve departed the highest office. But since the beginning there have been concerns. Even our, now seemingly immortal, Founding Fathers had serious medical issues. Our first president didn’t have it too bad. George Washington’s worse affliction was rotten teeth. Everyone’s heard about his wooden dentures. As the richest man in the country, he did not have to rely on comprehensive dental coverage either. His successor John Adams however didn’t have it so lucky. It is now widely believed by historians he suffered from depression. Although Adams lived to a ripe old age, doctors prescribed a diet of toast and milk. He maintained this diet for fourteen years. No wonder he was depressed. Actually depression has been quite common among our presidents. It seems all that responsibility takes its toll. Calvin Coolidge reportedly slept eleven hours a day – a result of his personal battle with depression. If George Bush’s recent appearance is any indication, he probably tries to hide under the covers as much as possible, too.

A healthy looking candidate is no safe bet either, as seemingly hale and hearty presidents have simply dropped dead. Zachary Taylor fell stone cold after eating a Fourth of July dessert. Gastroenteritis they called it, some claim assassination by poison. William Harrison died of pneumonia after serving only one month. When it’s your time, it’s your time. Often presidents suffered long battles with medical malaises. John Kennedy appeared vibrant and strong, but in fact he endured a long list of ailments. He was under constant medical supervision and treatment. Chester A. Arthur probably suffered the most painful affliction – Bright’s Disease. His years in the White House were excruciating, as the inflammation of his kidneys left him gasping for breath, chronically feverish and physically ballooned from retained body fluids.

William H. Taft suffered from a condition probably most relevant to modern Americans – hyper-obesity. He weighed in at over 400 lbs. This condition caused hypersomnolence – he’d fall asleep mid-conversation, sometimes with foreign heads of state. This was a guy that would love our America today. He’d no doubt be a Wal-Mart-and-back-in-time-for-Rachel-Rae-and-bon-bons kind of guy. However, just as he was a larger-than-life man, he was a larger-than-life public servant. Despite his obesity, he can boast a tireless record of service to our country. He was provincial governor of the Philippines and Cuba (think Bremer in Iraq). He served as U.S. Solicitor General and Secretary of War (think Paul Clement and Donald Rumsfeld). He of course served as our 27th president and then Chief Justice of the Supreme Court (think John Roberts… if he ate David Souter). Imagine all those people rolled up into one man. One very large man. McCain should be inspired by Taft’s ability to overcome his health issues. Yet there are two presidents in particular whom John McCain can look to for even more inspiration. The two presidents who rose above their poor health to lead our country when we needed them most were Woodrow Wilson and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Roosevelt was in such obvious dire-straits healthwise that he purposely chose the highly popular and uncontroversial Harry Truman as his running mate. FDR worried that he wouldn’t live through his final term and he wanted to leave the country in good hands. Clearly, McCain has courageously considered this stark reality himself with his practical selection of the proven leader Sarah Palin.

As for Woodrow Wilson, he serves as an even clearer example of how best McCain can serve his country with complete disregard for his poor health. Surprisingly, this is not in reference to Wilson’s most obvious health concern – his bad teeth. Washington already proved you don’t need any teeth to lead the country, not when we have good, solid Yankee hickory. Wilson proved you can still lead, though every tooth in your skull is rotted and black. These two exemplars will serve McCain well as he too is a dentally-challenged individual. This too has not gone unnoticed within the blogosphere. No, we are not speaking about Wilson’s “busted grill”, nor McCain’s. Unbeknown to the nation, Wilson also suffered a stroke late in his presidential term. It is now thought to have been a seriously debilitating stroke, all but incapacitating the president. However, Wilson, like McCain, had a second wife and she, also like McCain’s, was very strong willed. She took on a “stewardship” role in her husband’s presidency. She is often considered more than just a first lady but “the first lady to lead our government” and often referred to as “the first female president”. In fact, she shrewdly kept V.P. Thomas Marshall from assuming power. As Wilson was essentially out-of-commission, his wife did more than stand by her man – she stood in for her man.

The presidency has been frought with illness and disease and, in at least one case, clinical insanity. Clearly health is no rationale reason to discount a candidate. No matter how critical John McCain’s real medical condition might be, the American people can be assured through our own history. Like FDR, McCain has chosen a proven leader, loved by all, to ease any devastating, unfortunate transition. And like Ellen Wilson, Cindy McCain has the grit to step in and take over should a stroke or any other malady incapacitate her husband. Either way, he is surrounded by two strong-willed, capable women – both undoubtedly ready to be the next president in one way or another. So, there is no need to worry about that little maverick left eye.

Peter J. Burns


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