Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Satire about Irving Lewis "Scooter" Libby, Vice President Dick Cheney's Chief of Staff, who resigned from his post immediately following his federal indictment for his role in exposing the identity of undercover CIA operative Valerie Plame
Scooter
(Sung to the tune of "School Days")
Click HERE for MIDI music
(instrumental intro)
He has been screwed, Dick's underling.
Yes, Libby's been screwed today.
A big fat lip stopped his power trip;
A failed hack caught in legal maze.
Failed, the neocons' chief louse,
Sunken by lies for oil war.
Crook's lunacy fooled you and fooled me.
Exposed a spy's name and more.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Loose lips do kill, Dick's underling.
So is treason what you would allow?
Can't keep straight your stories, though Judy's your shill
So don't croak when you're frog-marched now.
Members of G.O.P. still cheer
Your blatant illegal ways.
No longer call shots for your neocon plots.
We've had enough of your craze.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Scooter
(Sung to the tune of "School Days")
Click HERE for MIDI music
(instrumental intro)
He has been screwed, Dick's underling.
Yes, Libby's been screwed today.
A big fat lip stopped his power trip;
A failed hack caught in legal maze.
Failed, the neocons' chief louse,
Sunken by lies for oil war.
Crook's lunacy fooled you and fooled me.
Exposed a spy's name and more.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Loose lips do kill, Dick's underling.
So is treason what you would allow?
Can't keep straight your stories, though Judy's your shill
So don't croak when you're frog-marched now.
Members of G.O.P. still cheer
Your blatant illegal ways.
No longer call shots for your neocon plots.
We've had enough of your craze.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Scooter.. Scooter...
He's a Big Time loser.
He's been indicted; the charges stick.
It makes him fume, and it makes him sick.
Neocons' scheme: for war, to go.
Joe Wilson trashed; he dared to show
'Twas no yellowcake, so they loathed Joe.
Leaked Valerie's name, what they did.
Monday, October 31, 2005
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Fitzmas
(Sung to the tune of "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas" by Bing Crosby)
Satire about the criminal indictment of Scooter Libby, and possible future indictments of Karl Rove, Dick Cheney and other members of the corrupt Bush Administration, by U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald's investigation of Treasongate (aka the Valerie Plame affair)
Click HERE for MIDI music
(instrumental intro)
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Plame Affair, you know?
White House crooks, soon indicted, spin;
Excuses are sounding thin.
It looks quite plain that Libby's pain will grow.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Boy, is Dubya sore!
But the prettiest sight to see
Are indictments there will be.
Rove has lost his war.
For war, the neocon brutes and the corporate suits
Got their wish through big lies and spin.
Squealers now talk to avoid the perp walk;
Bush the Dope is feeling chagrin,
From polls so bad; his regime's fate: to crumble from within.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Plame Affair has showed...
Through the grand jury, it's been hell.
For Bush, it's too dark to tell
Grand jury's mind or what they'll find, explode.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas
Soon, more hell will start.
Bush the King could lose everything...
To Fitzgerald, squealers sing 'bout who did take part.
(instrumental break)
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas
Soon, more hell will start.
Bush the King could lose everything...
To Fitzgerald, squealers sing... 'bout who did take part...
Traitors' mission... for war.
(Sung to the tune of "It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas" by Bing Crosby)
Satire about the criminal indictment of Scooter Libby, and possible future indictments of Karl Rove, Dick Cheney and other members of the corrupt Bush Administration, by U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald's investigation of Treasongate (aka the Valerie Plame affair)
Click HERE for MIDI music
(instrumental intro)
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Plame Affair, you know?
White House crooks, soon indicted, spin;
Excuses are sounding thin.
It looks quite plain that Libby's pain will grow.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Boy, is Dubya sore!
But the prettiest sight to see
Are indictments there will be.
Rove has lost his war.
For war, the neocon brutes and the corporate suits
Got their wish through big lies and spin.
Squealers now talk to avoid the perp walk;
Bush the Dope is feeling chagrin,
From polls so bad; his regime's fate: to crumble from within.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas.
Plame Affair has showed...
Through the grand jury, it's been hell.
For Bush, it's too dark to tell
Grand jury's mind or what they'll find, explode.
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas
Soon, more hell will start.
Bush the King could lose everything...
To Fitzgerald, squealers sing 'bout who did take part.
(instrumental break)
It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas
Soon, more hell will start.
Bush the King could lose everything...
To Fitzgerald, squealers sing... 'bout who did take part...
Traitors' mission... for war.
Friday, October 28, 2005
Merry Fitzmas! Scooter Libby scoots after indictment and resigns
... Meanwhile, Karl Rove awaits his fate
... Meanwhile, Karl Rove awaits his fate
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
This song parody was posted in the comments section of the Arianna Huffington Post blog:
Have Ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas
(Parody lyrics by BobbyG)
(Sung to the tune of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas")
Click HERE for MIDI music
Have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas,
Make our nation right,
From now on
The WHIGs will all be in plain sight.
Have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas,
Make those bastards pay.
From now on
Indictments will have made our day.
Here we are, charges coming soon,
The Grand Jury's tune will roar.
Rule of law once so dear to us
Gathers near to us once more.
Through the years
They all will be together,
If Club Fed allows.
We could hang them all from just the highest boughs.
But have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas now.
Posted by: BobbyG on October 24, 2005 at 11:46am
Have Ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas
(Parody lyrics by BobbyG)
(Sung to the tune of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas")
Click HERE for MIDI music
Have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas,
Make our nation right,
From now on
The WHIGs will all be in plain sight.
Have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas,
Make those bastards pay.
From now on
Indictments will have made our day.
Here we are, charges coming soon,
The Grand Jury's tune will roar.
Rule of law once so dear to us
Gathers near to us once more.
Through the years
They all will be together,
If Club Fed allows.
We could hang them all from just the highest boughs.
But have ourselves A Merry Little Fitzmas now.
Posted by: BobbyG on October 24, 2005 at 11:46am
Friday, October 21, 2005
The Empire Strikes Out
Editorial poem by the Vermont Guardian
http://www.vermontguardian.com/commentary/102005/October21Editorial.shtml
The oddmakers aren’t hopeful about the Bushland team today;
Their poll numbers are dropping fast with few years left to play.
Once Delay got indicted, with Rove facing much the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the masters of the game.
A frightened few broke with the pack, in deep despair. The Rest
Clung to faint hope which “springs eternal in the human breast”;
They thought their slugger still could rise from this Nixonian fate,
There’s yet a chance to tough it out with Georgie at the plate.
But Miers had the spotlight now, along with FEMA’s Brown,
And the former was a cipher while the latter was a clown;
So, upon that stricken GOP grim meloncholy sat,
For there seemed little chance that Georgie could rebound from that.
Still, Roberts surely proved his might, when Senators did call,
While Rummy, proud and much despised, lectured Congress, press, and all.
With arrogant deflections making greater public grief,
Torture flourished, and the High Court did receive a stealthy chief.
Although Miers claimed that Georgie was the smartest one of all,
And Brownie, also despised, had blamed the locals for his fall,
When all the dust had settled, Bushland saw what had occurred:
There was Scooter facing trouble, even Cheney’s future blurred.
Then from neo-cons and fundies there arose a lusty shout,
It rumbled from their choirs, which still had lots of clout,
It echoed from their think tanks, from O’Reilly and the like,
Yes, Georgie, mighty Georgie, was strutting to the mike.
There was anger in his manner as he fumbled for his place;
He would have to deal with questions and control his smirking face;
The press no longer seemed to buy his war on terror rap,
Some even said he lied and dumped us in a desert trap.
Doubts that once could be dismissed were now hard to ignore,
But all that Georgie had to offer had oft been heard before;
The people, they were asking, “Have we all been much misled?”
“That’s partisan,” snapped Georgie. “Strike one,” an anchor said.
From Robertson and Falwell’s folks came up a muffled roar,
Like the desperate howl of creatures who are threatened to the core.
“Kill him; kill the anchor!” Growled Cheney from his lair; —
A likely mission accomplished if the cameras weren’t there.
“How about Iraq’s vote counting,” asked a press guy, less than awed,
“You say they have gained freedom, but the signs point straight to fraud.”
Though Georgie didn’t see that coming, Rove told him what to do:
Blame al-Qaeda’s freedom haters. The anchor said, “Strike two.”
The smirk now gone from Georgie’s lips, his eyes began to blink;
It used to be such fun to rule, when others helped him think.
The questions kept on coming, as more old friends turn away,
Even 9/11 bluster could no longer save the day.
Oh! Somewhere in the U.S.A. there are still signs of hope;
The mighty right is falling, barely able now to cope.
And somewhere freedom rises, fueled by courage, truth, and doubt;
But there is no joy in Bushland — mighty Georgie has struck out.
With thanks to Ernest Lawrence Thayer, author of “Casey at the Bat.”
Editorial poem by the Vermont Guardian
http://www.vermontguardian.com/commentary/102005/October21Editorial.shtml
The oddmakers aren’t hopeful about the Bushland team today;
Their poll numbers are dropping fast with few years left to play.
Once Delay got indicted, with Rove facing much the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the masters of the game.
A frightened few broke with the pack, in deep despair. The Rest
Clung to faint hope which “springs eternal in the human breast”;
They thought their slugger still could rise from this Nixonian fate,
There’s yet a chance to tough it out with Georgie at the plate.
But Miers had the spotlight now, along with FEMA’s Brown,
And the former was a cipher while the latter was a clown;
So, upon that stricken GOP grim meloncholy sat,
For there seemed little chance that Georgie could rebound from that.
Still, Roberts surely proved his might, when Senators did call,
While Rummy, proud and much despised, lectured Congress, press, and all.
With arrogant deflections making greater public grief,
Torture flourished, and the High Court did receive a stealthy chief.
Although Miers claimed that Georgie was the smartest one of all,
And Brownie, also despised, had blamed the locals for his fall,
When all the dust had settled, Bushland saw what had occurred:
There was Scooter facing trouble, even Cheney’s future blurred.
Then from neo-cons and fundies there arose a lusty shout,
It rumbled from their choirs, which still had lots of clout,
It echoed from their think tanks, from O’Reilly and the like,
Yes, Georgie, mighty Georgie, was strutting to the mike.
There was anger in his manner as he fumbled for his place;
He would have to deal with questions and control his smirking face;
The press no longer seemed to buy his war on terror rap,
Some even said he lied and dumped us in a desert trap.
Doubts that once could be dismissed were now hard to ignore,
But all that Georgie had to offer had oft been heard before;
The people, they were asking, “Have we all been much misled?”
“That’s partisan,” snapped Georgie. “Strike one,” an anchor said.
From Robertson and Falwell’s folks came up a muffled roar,
Like the desperate howl of creatures who are threatened to the core.
“Kill him; kill the anchor!” Growled Cheney from his lair; —
A likely mission accomplished if the cameras weren’t there.
“How about Iraq’s vote counting,” asked a press guy, less than awed,
“You say they have gained freedom, but the signs point straight to fraud.”
Though Georgie didn’t see that coming, Rove told him what to do:
Blame al-Qaeda’s freedom haters. The anchor said, “Strike two.”
The smirk now gone from Georgie’s lips, his eyes began to blink;
It used to be such fun to rule, when others helped him think.
The questions kept on coming, as more old friends turn away,
Even 9/11 bluster could no longer save the day.
Oh! Somewhere in the U.S.A. there are still signs of hope;
The mighty right is falling, barely able now to cope.
And somewhere freedom rises, fueled by courage, truth, and doubt;
But there is no joy in Bushland — mighty Georgie has struck out.
With thanks to Ernest Lawrence Thayer, author of “Casey at the Bat.”
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