A - H
Whether sickly or healthy and hale,
We object when the air gets too stale,
But what shall we do
When they ban CO2
And deny us the right to exhale?
"Clinton can't start a war without us!"
Cry Republicans, raising a fuss.
In the Senate and House,
They roar like a mouse,
And conservatives cringe in disgust.
The Derby he took in stride,
Then the Preakness -- what a ride!
Now, if he takes
The Belmont Stakes,
The crown goes to Funny Cide.
Nelson, Luciano, Capone
All had nicknames uniquely their own.
In Bill Clinton's case,
You can bet "Cigarface"
Is the moniker by which he'll be known!
Aides offer an explanation
For Albert's exaggeration:
"It's not that he lies,
It's just that he tries
To use his imagination."
"Our donations are going to Gore,
That ponderous, pandering bore:
He's a stiff Beta Male,
But his soul is for sale
And we really can't ask for much more!"
Gore's personal code takes priority
Over that of the Moral Majority,
So it's "Anything goes!"
Until somebody shows
A "controlling legal authority."
"I reckon I'm uppin' the bid,"
Sheriff Bush told the Baghdad Kid.
"So, you've got 'til sundown
To git out of town!"
And in thousands of pieces he did.
The Vice President's given to grieve
Over babies that poor folk conceive.
But, if he's too proud
To mix with the crowd,
Maybe Al is the one who should leave.
The Vice President sat down to sup,
Bid his boss to please pass him a cup,
And to Bill's "Pardon me?"
So eager was Al to move up.
Poor old Peter, Tom, and Dan,
Hanging on as long as they can!
Replace those fossils
With three John Stossels:
Topple TV's Taliban!
There once was a man who would marry,
But not in the way ordinary,
So he married a dog,
A ferret and frog,
A kinkajou, cat, and canary.
Do those goons who reject common sense
And embrace Democratic pretense
Think arresting our sons
When they brandish toy guns
Will contribute to homeland defense?
With Bates, Berlin, and Key,
I salute this "land of the free,"
This "land that I love . . .
With the light from above,"
Stretched "from sea to shining sea."
By impeachment perturbed not a bit,
Bill assured us that he'd never quit
And that, if convicted,
He would not be evicted
'Cause the landlords were lacking in grit.
We're often described as ironic,
Acerbic, sarcastic, sardonic.
Why are we so arch?
It's the drycleaner's starch
Makes our casual cantankerousness chronic.
"I'm so talented and so smart,
But no one will give me a start,
So I'll take up the chant
For an NEA grant
To finance my career in fine art."
The Vietnam Vets get the shaft
From the folks in the filmmaking craft,
For their stories are told
By those brave souls of old:
Their peers who avoided the draft.
Diplomacy often can settle
Disputes that have started to nettle,
But be ready to fight
Or you just might invite
Your opponent to test your mettle.
With a limerick to write, the worker sits;
After hours have passed, the shirker quits:
The problem's that "Herb"
Will not serve as a verb,
And there's nothing that rhymes with "Berkowitz."
How much progress would be unrecorded,
How greatly our culture distorted,
If Edison and Gates,
Shakespeare and Yeats
Had never been born, but aborted?
"We deplore confrontation, delay,
And obstructions thrown in the way:
These things that we do
We project onto you
And denounce as unsportsmanlike play."
"According to all our reports,
Things are going to get even worse.
The Russians," said Yeltsin,
"Must all pull their belts in
That is, those who have belts, of course."
Here's a survey that needs to be done
On the merits of having a gun:
Ask anyone harmed
By a thug who was armed
If he wishes he, too, had had one.
Here's the buzz on the Arabic "street":
Soon Saddam and Osama will meet,
But the place where they're bound
Is quite deep underground
And beset by unbearable heat.
There's no reason, nor is there rhyme
To the claims liberals make all the time,
And the "facts" they rehearse
Are quite often reverse,
As in "Poverty causes crime!"
Though we don't want to alienate our core,
We are anxious to add even more;
So, to make greater strides,
We'll appeal to both sides
And oppose all the things that we're for.
Campaign prospects are more sunny
When the coffer's full of money.
Leave it to Bill
To fill the till
With money that is funny!
Pardon him, pardon her, pardon you.
Pardon everyone Bill ever knew.
There's no need to be frugal:
Pardon Hubbell, McDougall,
Pardon Gore, pardon Hillary too!
"I promise this year to begin
To exercise, diet, grow thin;
I resolve I will try
Not to tell one more lie --
At least, never the same one again!"
The job hunter takes out an ad
To trumpet the titles he's had:
Drug dealer, and Yale Law grad.
"I'm a master at keeping the lid
On the illegal things that I did,
So there's no way to show
Any quid for a quo
Just call me the 'Cover-Up Kid.'"
"It may seem like a major transgression
In the midst of a growing recession,
But we have the yeas
To enact our raise
And can weather the bad impression."
The media rarely deride
A President on the same side:
For the faithful defender
Of their social agenda,
They're willing to let some things slide.
It's truly depressing to see
What's become of the GOP:
Still pro-life, more or less,
And for gun rights, we guess,
But no telling how long that will be.
Census takers who tally my head
Will not know if I'm black, white, or red:
Because, in the space
To designate race,
I inscribed the word "human" instead.
More scandals each day are accruing,
And the storm of the century is brewing,
But poor Janet Reno
Is able to see no
Evidence of any wrongdoing.
For years his rare record has stood
And it looked like forever it would,
But Bill Clinton's the man
Who said, "Yes, yes I can:
I can make Jimmy Carter look good!"
They prefer that it not be recalled
How their youthful behavior appalled:
"Trust none over thirty,"
Roared the young and the dirty,
But that was before they went bald.
Those Boomers bred on blame
Have recovered from their shame:
They fly the flag
And do not gag
On the Pledge they now proclaim.
"I lie, I cheat, I steal,
And do just what I feel;
But, if I say
I was born that way,
My vices seem genteel."
I will thank Gore and Bush in advance
If they'll promise to take a firm stance
And conceal their beliefs
About boxers or briefs
And their preference in underpants.
"If we must give up guns, sticks, and balls
And like girls be content just with dolls,
Then we'll rip off their heads
And tear them to shreds
And bounce all the bits off the walls."
Me makum big wampum, and lots.
Me bossum the local bigshots.
Me Big Chief Casino.
Me bigger than Reno.
Me scalpum with tables and slots.
Watching football in 2001
Is going to be even more fun:
I'm building a bridge
From the den to the fridge
So I won't miss a kick, pass, or run.
Eight years of the Clintons in power
Leave a taste in the mouth that is sour
And an overall sense
That we need a good rinse
And should spend extra time in the shower.
They'll first find tobacco at fault,
Then coffee, wine, spirits, and malt.
Then they'll next demonize
Colas, burgers, and fries,
Then all snacks made with sugar and salt!
It would be self-destructively odd
For a nation conceived "under God"
To renounce all recourse
To that infinite Source
And resist ever recking His rod.
"Pipe down, Paul, and lay off o' dat booze,
'Cause ya don't know nuthin' 'bout blues,
About bare dirt floors
And plumbin' outdoors
And twelve chirren wit'out no shoes."
Californians who once liked to boast
Of the absence of rigs off their coast
Are suddenly thrilling
To the prospect of drilling
If it means they can always make toast.
In days of circumspection,
We made no "love connection":
The girls said no
And off we'd go,
Relieved at our rejection.
Yes, Brutus and brethren confected
A plot to have Caesar dissected,
But that sort of play
Can't happen today
With conspiracy theory rejected.
They deserve electrocution
Whose contempt for the Constitution
Allows them to fork
Over helpings of pork
In return for a contribution.
As Commander-in-Chief, good ol' Bill
Could defer his conviction at will:
He could launch an attack
On Iran or Irag
Or obliterate Capitol Hill.
"I'm hanging my hopes on my wife,
Who's about to go under the knife:
My plan is that maybe
With a harvested baby
I'll be able to lengthen my life!"
There's no better place, perchance,
For food or for romance;
But, if you need
A friend indeed,
Don't waste your time in France.
Instead of a gain, there's a loss
When my ethnic identities cross:
It's rather embarrassin'
To be Franco-American
When you're not a spaghetti sauce!
Doomsday deadlines bear recalling
When they've passed and we're not sprawling:
If dreaded fate
Is running late,
Then perhaps the sky's not falling.
The teacher now has a new ploy
For the youngster who tends to annoy:
For fussin' and fidgetin',
Prescribe him some ritalin
And cure him of being a boy!
Don't be fooled by the "pro-choice" ruse
That amoralists use to confuse,
For your choices could
Be bad or good
And it matters how you choose.
"If my actions make no sense,
I'll say this in my defense:
I'm a psychopathic
Whose faith is mere pretense."
*Catholic In Name Only
Their parents won't be overruled,
Nor their personal values retooled.
Their minds will grow strong
As they learn right from wrong,
'Cause these children are being homeschooled.
"We'll supply whatsoever you need
To ensure your armed forces succeed,
And we won't make a fuss
If you use them on us,
'Cause our sole motivation is greed.
"Don't put anything down in ink,"
The facilitator said with a wink.
"Just divide the dupes
Into manageable groups
And tell them what they think!"
There once was an arch conservative
Who regarded as simply superlative
The power of Bill's
To serve as an all-purpose purgative.
All around him Bill sees pointed fingers
And enemies that run him through wringers.
Sure, he cheated and lied,
But he just can't abide
Those malicious, conspiring right-wingers!
How we begged Beth and Suzy and Pat
To come grapple with us on the mat!
We knew we could nestle
If they'd just let us wrestle,
But the girls were too clever for that.
Nominations are not in contention
And there's nary an issue to mention:
Crowning Bush and Al Gore
Will be such a big bore,
So why even have a convention?
Willie Sutton robbed banks because
That's where the money was,
But if he had heard
About Robert C. Byrd
He'd have done what the Senator does.
It's a paradox or a riddle
When the Right falls Left of the Middle,
And you find that the lot
That you thought you had got
Is a Lott that's amounted to little.
Election reformers, take note:
The folks in Palm Beach missed the boat.
If they can't punch a ballot
Without using a mallet,
Then they've proven they're not fit to vote.
"It's really quite simple," Al said.
"The one who's behind should have led,
So we'll void votes for George
And then we will forge
Enough ballots to put me ahead."
"I detest, I abhor, I revile
Bill Clinton's corruption and guile:
I'd have made quite a speech
On the floor to impeach
Were it not for my FBI file."
How the judges would snicker and snort
And delight in making sport
Of American troops,
Individuals, and groups
In an international court!
The conservative's fervent desire
Is for Ginsburg and Stevens and Breyer,
O'Connor and Souter,
And Kennedy, too, to
Announce that they plan to retire.
D-o-E, D-o-Ed, E-P-A:
Each department would close right away
Plus Commerce and HUD,
That fraud-ridden dud
If Republicans did as they say.
Your days are now numbered, Fidel.
Pretty soon they'll be tolling your bell.
When they shout, "Cuba free!"
Rum and cokes are on me,
And I'll hand out Havanas as well.
At my junior high no one cares
About violence, drugs, and affairs,
But a teacher's on hand
With a swift reprimand
When a student is caught saying prayers.
On occasion he loses his way-O;
Belafonte then causes dismay-O.
But he never goes wrong
With "Banana Boat Song."
Why not stick to the singing of "Day-O"?
Every Democrat losing a race
Has a serious question to face:
Should he follow the plan
Of the late Carnahan
And expire just to capture first place?
As their days of departure draw nigh,
You may hear death-row denizens sigh:
"I'm not certain still
That it's so bad to kill,
But I personally would rather not die!"
"When one of your loved ones deceases,
We don't bother with legal releases:
We sell what we can
From the organs on hand,
So your loved one can rest in pieces."
Charlie Chan and his Number One Son
Had no trouble finding the gun,
But the victim, said Chan,
Was an IRS man,
And the killer could be anyone.
By now it's well-known and old news
That in slavery their forebears paid "dues,"
And yet no one has crowed:
Reparations are owed
By Egyptians today to the Jews.
Nietzsche told us that God was dead,
That the State was our Father instead,
But where's Nietzsche now?
Where are Stalin and Mao,
Hitler, and the legions they led?
"When we measured no parts per million,
We raised standards to parts per billion.
We're the new EPA
And we'll have it our way,
Finding parts per trillion and zillion!"
Resolutions I've hastily made
Are infrequently kept, I' m afraid;
Still, I find I can live up
To a promise to give up
Resolutions I've hastily made.
Who has kept black Americans down
And spread hatred from town to town?
No, it's no Anglo-Saxon
But the Reverend Jackson
Who's the rabidest racist around!
"Everyone pull up a chair,
But, before we get started, beware
Not to tell Mom and Dad
'Cause they'd only get mad
If they learned of the secrets we share."
You may think that I'm trying to shirk
Or abusing a privilege or perk:
Sure, I haven't left home
Since I had myself cloned,
But I'm sending my double to work!
NOW's position may seem enigmatic,
Self-serving, two-faced, or erratic:
All sexual harassing
Is okay if the jerk's Democratic!"
There's a cure for the liberal bacillus
That's invaded our system to kill us:
(In pill form or spray!)
With the powerful antigen "Phyllis."
So the homicidal barbarian
Is a virtuous vegetarian!
Then keep Mr. Malvo lean
With sawdust and Valvoline
And indulge the culinary contrarian.
"Comrades, have no fears;
It's only a matter of years:
We'll sneak some fairies
Through the seminaries;
Soon the Church will be full of queers!"
Their abiding misanthropy shows
What's behind the Earth Firster's pose,
For these mopes without mirth
Have no love for the earth
And are nothing but Mean Green Joes.
We're faced with a problem that's prickly.
We'd better do something, and quickly.
Forget the suspicions
About greenhouse emissions:
It's the wind from the White House that's sickly.
"Prodigality surely can hurt you,
And lead even dear friends to desert you,
But a person who's tasteful
Is allowed to be wasteful,"
Said a man who was known for his virtue.
Ron Brown was but one of those linked
To the friends of Bill Clinton who blinked.
Who'll next join the roster
With the late Vincent Foster
Of the cronies confirmed as extinct?
Here's an end to the race-baiting game
And the constant consignment of blame:
We'll talk about race
Till we're blue in the face,
Then we'll all look exactly the same!
By dollar, by yen, or by ounce,
One can only surmise the amounts
That a solon retains
As his ill-gotten gains
In his numbered Swiss savings accounts.
Socialism is dead!
Done in, the indomitable Red!
Or so it would seem,
But in academe
One had better check under one's bed.
Was there malice, perhaps, in your jest?
Some offense in the way that you're dressed?
If you'll just give us time,
We'll come up with a crime,
And then you'll be under arrest.
There's no better month than June
For a second honeymoon,
So it's off to Niagara
With a quart of Viagra
And an extra-large measuring spoon!
Aware that he may be disbarred,
Bill Clinton is taking it hard:
He's never once paid
For mistakes he has made
And would rather not reap his reward.
There once was a man named Ray
Who worked at the Bon Marché
And got lots of strange stares
When he said unawares:
"I'm in Ladies' Lingerie."
Look how far unbelievers have come
In making the faithful play dumb:
Once they found a jive judge
Who was willing to fudge,
Freedom of soon became freedom from.
Before I start to hasslin'
With daily chores and rasslin'
To make ends meet,
I must complete
My coffee and McCaslin.
"Sure, we're faced with a revenue glut
And could lower your tax levels, but
It takes plenty of dough
To make government grow
And we just can't afford any cut!"
As a gift for every descendant
In a Pledge of Allegiance amendment,
Would it be permissible
To add "sovereign and independent"?
"I need your help to clear
A bank deposit here:
Just send some dough;
I'll let you know
When you can claim your share."
"But, Boss, to save fuel, I must drive
Never faster than 55.
If I want to save plenty,
I must not exceed 20 –
Which explains why I'm last to arrive!"
"Though his name sounds familiar to me,
I'm still wondering who he could be:
In the index I look
Of my history book,
But George Washington's name I don't see."
"Sorry, Son, I know it's cruel
Letting you be raised a fool,
But if it's free
That's fine by me:
You're going to public school!"
Students headed for college each fall
Have to keep their opinions in thrall:
It's essential to be
Perceived as "PC,"
So they try not to speak up at all.
A stripper deemed too independent
Was called into court as defendant;
She said of her charms:
"I've the right 'to bare arms';
It's enshrined in the Second Amendment."
We'd expected to be fully free
Of his follies by 2003,
But, lacking the grace
To go hide his face,
Clinton keeps crying out, "Look at me!"
Once we paused to hold the door,
Letting ladies go before;
Now manners vex
The fairer sex
And we dare not anymore.
Adios! Sayonara! Shalom!
Pack your toothbrush, your razor, and comb.
To the United Nations!
It's time for you all to go home.
When deprived of proper tools,
Teachers turn out proper fools –
And not a smidgeon
Is allowed in public schools.
Hold your horses; we're not in a race.
Get that drumstick away from your face.
Now put your fork down
And stop making that frown.
You can eat when we finish the grace.
If Al Gore is starting to nag you,
Rest assured he will end up like Agnew:
He'll be gone just like Spiro,
And when someone says Gore, we will ask "who?"
The future's decidedly grim
For Fidel, for Saddam, and for Kim,
Because sooner or later
Each demonic dictator
Must get what is coming to him.
Pack your luggage and grab your coat
And prepare your concessional quote,
'Cause your seat's not secure
And we all know for sure
That you won't get Chandra's vote.
The September 11th attack
Justifies our crusade in Iraq.
Go ahead, G.I. Joe:
Take the fight to the foe
And make sure that they never come back.
Atop the cathedral he stood
And embraced his absurd victimhood:
Al Gore can't bemoan
That he's not made of stone,
'Cause he likes being made out of wood.
No religious beliefs were expressed
In his valedictorian address,
But he feigned an "achoo!"
And his classmates on cue
In unison shouted "God bless!"
My neighbor's a tree-hugging pain,
But he's unsympathetic to grain:
If I chance not to mow
And my grass starts to grow,
He's the first on the block to complain!
It's rather unpleasant, the truth:
We Boomers were rude and uncouth.
But now that we're grown
We've a chance to atone
For our miserable, wastrel youth.
Poor Gray Davis has gotten the shakes
And is desperate to do what it takes
To elude liability
And preserve viability --
By kowtowing to fruits, nuts, and flakes.
Roy was hankering to be quite the quaff-swigger:
"So, I'll leave you right here by the trough, Trigger,
And spend all afternoon
In the Staghorn Saloon
With Tackett, Wayne Johns, and Lyn Nofziger."
The crook did a song and dance:
"Judge, give me another chance!
Breaking into that vault
Really wasn't my fault
I'm a victim of circumstance."
There's a predator primed to replace you,
But this running man won't have to face you,
'Cause you're destined to fall
In the total recall
Californians contrived to erase you.
The kids in the class have to nod
When I say that my family's odd:
I've only one mother,
Dad won't have another
No matter how much I may prod.
What compares to the horrible fright
That will haunt us on Halloween night?
Consider the fear,
As elections draw near,
Ghoulish candidates soon will excite!
The First Lady's a post-modern wife
In responding to marital strife:
She'll stand by her man
As long as she can,
'Cause it's better than "20 to Life."
"If I run against Bush, I might lose.
If I balk and the voters should choose
Some Democrat elf,
I'll be stuck on the shelf
For another eight years paying dues."
A horse is a horse, oh yes!
Oh yes, he's a horse, unless --
Unless, of course,
He's a stalking horse
Like the famous General Wes.
Bill can suffer the arrows and slings
Of outrageous, unfortunate flings,
'Cause this big ham from Hope
Learned early to cope
By consorting with cons in Hot Springs.
Congressman Traficant looks
Like a footnote in history books;
So, they threw the bum out,
But does anyone doubt
That the Congress is still full of crooks?
It's plain, if you've eyes to see,
That no government program is free,
And apparent to some
That each program should come
With a money-back guarantee.
Each day brings a new allegory
Of goodness and grace and glory:
Paul Harvey's sly tease
Makes listeners cry, "Please,
Please tell us 'the rest of the story.'"
They've found lynx hair over there,
And more lynx hair over here.
The endangered lynx
Is okay, methinks,
When there's lynx hair everywhere!