Oh, say, I see...

Today is the first of the remaining days of the War With Many Names.

Each day, while looking at the photographs of the children killed, I apologize for the cowboy-in-chief and his posse who are more concerned with their coffers and corruption than the outcome of this grossly mismanaged invasion of a soverign nation.

I apologize to those dead children for a lazy nation fully distracted by steroid abuse, celebrity malfunctions, dog fights, saving wolves and stone throwing.

Each day I watch the legislators in action to see their actual words and at night I watch the news distort what was said.

I watch as the same cowboy and posse aim for Iran, while our borders remain open and our nation fills with cells and hatred.

I've watched the growth of the second recession since the current reign began.

I hope there's time to save what remains of our United States.

Softshoe Mission Accomplished

Once upon a not so long ago, a megalomaniac convinced himself he was king and did softshoe tappings (like the stall hoppin' gop from hidey-ho) on the stage to giggle up the news ferretlesses while waiting for a lateshow pretend-bloomer.

Lo, the ferretless later mused in cutesy fashion about how the tapper jived onstage as if he were the happiest king alive and still knew not that his robes had gone on without him.

One newly homeless shrew shouted, 'Harken, joes. He's a carrier of the double recession gene and monetile dysfunction. Always pulls out early. Today, he was jivin' up his fave tune of Mission Accomplished.'

And, behold, it came to pass that this crooked bumpkin spore did erect his own rapture by looting carts of early green while chucking the regular joes' assets down with the dow.