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Edited on Sun Aug-05-07 05:39 PM by USMC_Liberal
I modified the immortal poem:
Things looked extremely rocky for the Neo-Cons that day,
Clinton was in office, common sense ruled the day.
If only, Cheney, mighty Cheney could take a whack at that
they'd put even more money on big Oil with Cheney at the bat!
So Chalabi proceeded Cheney and likewise so did Niger cake,
the former was a devil the latter was a fake.
But to the wonder of all, Chalabi didn't fall,
and over Yellowcake - the Press took in it all.
And when the Neo-Cons saw what had occurred
US Troops were on the Iraqi border, our allies were the Kurds!
Then from five thousand Neo-con throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
it rumbled through the Wash Post, it rattled in the Jour-nel;
it pounded through on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat;
for Cheney, mighty Cheney, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Cheney's manner as he stepped into his place,
there was pride in Cheney's bearing and a smile lit Cheney's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
no stranger in the crowd could doubt t'was Cheney at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt.
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his shirt.
Then, while the writhing Osama made a tape to ship,
defiance flashed in Cheney's eye, a sneer curled Cheney's lip.
And when the fatal liners had come hurtling through the air,
and Cheney stood a-watching them in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy de facto president the responsibility unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said Cheney.
"Three thousand dead!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with apathy, there went up a muffled roar,
like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted the FOX News faithful on the stand,
and it's likely they'd have killed him had not Cheney raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity, great Cheney's visage shone,
he stilled the rising tumult, he bade the game go on.
He signaled to Osama, and there was a tape anew,
but Cheney still ignored it, and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the Fox New Faithful, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Cheney and the Christian Right was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
and they knew that Cheney wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer has fled from Cheney's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate.
He pounds, with cruel violence, his bat upon the plate.
And now Osama holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
and now Cheney avers that the insurgency is in its last throe!
Oh, somewhere in this formerly favored land the sun is shining bright.
A funeral moves forward somewhere, and somewhere there's a fight.
And, somewhere men are dying, and little children bleed out,
And there is no victory on Main Street USA --
mighty Cheney has snuck out.
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