tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40032982024-03-13T03:36:53.909-07:00DoggerelPunditCommentaryStephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comBlogger151125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-68282010618821950322008-02-14T18:28:00.000-08:002008-02-14T18:40:13.289-08:00Avon's calling dept.<blockquote><br /><strong>Truly the Thing</strong><br /> <br /><strong>O</strong>ld Will said all the world's a stage.<br />His actors we are not;<br />But clumsy playwrights ill directing<br />Drafts writ misbegot.<br />We plot, we scene, we block, we stage<br />To salve and save our hearts.<br />Fault lies in us? nay! stubborn casts<br />Refuse to play their parts!<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-66377988013424774802007-12-06T09:18:00.000-08:002007-12-06T09:36:05.742-08:00<blockquote><br /><strong>Fat to Fatuus</strong><br /> <br /><strong>W</strong>ith Messieurs Hopkins, Reeves, and Ogilvy<br />We core the heart of advertising's tale.<br />Good facts and benefits drive U.S.P.;<br />Esteem the product, and say what’s for sale.<br />This line was held the while our Board was clear,<br />Plain verity the value we essayed,<br />Thus buyers motivated without fear.<br />(Without which, we'd have never gotten paid)<br />New board demands: hot prospects entertained<br />With Mission; Bio; Logo; Bulbous claim!<br />Yea qualities of mercy are not strained,<br />Too bad our advertising ain't the same.<br /> To save the brand, to rescue revenue<br /> Now summon succor; <a href="http://www.killianadvertising.com">Killian's merry crew</a>.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-45718549089685081102007-05-26T09:59:00.000-07:002007-05-26T10:09:10.026-07:00This Memorial Day<p><br /><center><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Gz5Z-ecG9Xw/RlhohPbkD4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Oi8BHVxuIV4/s1600-h/ourflag.jpg"><img style="float:center; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Gz5Z-ecG9Xw/RlhohPbkD4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/Oi8BHVxuIV4/s320/ourflag.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068916300892606338" /></a><br /></center><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>The Fallen</strong><br /><br /><strong>T</strong>here are ways among the bowers<br />Where counted numbers pass.<br />Steps nodded by by flowers<br />But barely stir the grass,<br />As though ethereal notion<br />Is all these ways have known,<br />And yet may some devotion<br />See drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />Wander the streets and sidewalks<br />That grid and ring the town<br />In that muted hush the hour unlocks<br />When the gibbous moon lies down.<br />There plain on ways deserted<br />Busy throngs may press the lone.<br />Devotion thus concerted<br />Sees drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />For symphonies unconducted,<br />For brush strokes yet unviewed,<br />On stave lines unconstructed,<br />Bright canvas unsubdued,<br />Once burned with staunch emotion<br />The souls of masters known;<br />As an honest soul’s devotion<br />Sees drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />Who will see the land unseen<br />The counted travel through<br />—They who see <em>our</em> duty clean—<br />And pay the payment due.<br />And who will pass in blindness,<br />Passing free yet often shown<br />Sacred markers that remind us<br />Of drops fallen on the stone.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1173889011319755682007-03-14T10:11:00.000-07:002007-03-14T10:16:51.330-07:00The word is the bird dept.<blockquote><br /><strong>Tweets His Own</strong><br /><br /><strong>B</strong>efore you preens the lesser Schumer,<br />Bi-beaked species of the Boomer.<br />It roosts on polls and none too sturdy;<br />Restive crowds doth flip the birdie.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1165552961310901222006-12-07T20:35:00.000-08:002006-12-08T12:37:57.686-08:00Fowl flay Dept.<blockquote><br /><strong>Raptor Up</strong><br /><br /><strong>T</strong>he Rodham looks a downy bird<br />With sleek and splendid plumage.<br />And, seen from far beneath the nest,<br />Exhibits glossy groomage.<br /><br />But strident blares its raucous yawp;<br />The long lens sees the moulting,<br />The hard hunt look about the eye,<br />The flesh flecked beak, revolting.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1161838329327153732006-10-25T21:28:00.000-07:002006-10-25T21:58:52.886-07:00Papa's got a brand new mag. Dept.<a><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/SHILOH3.JPG" border=0></a><br /><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>Shiloh’s Pride</strong> ...a tale of desperation and triumph...<br /><br /><strong>O</strong>ut to the range at break of day,<br />Bringin’ a Winchester—such dismay.<br />Downin' steel's a shuddering chore<br />With hits that 'plink' from a thirty bore,<br />And terrible groups for a grumblin' score<br />With a forty-five from a furrin shore,<br />And a Shiloh eighteen months away.<br /><br />A promisin' looker that seventy-four,<br />The forty-five from the furrin shore;<br />There's folks, it's true, who can group 'em cold,<br />But a chamber reamer went uncontrolled<br />And made a barrel with a kink, I'm told,<br />Flingin' each careful cast astray.<br />And a Shiloh eighteen months away.<br /><br />Sent chamber casts—with the kink—by post<br />To the land of corn, and the furrin coast<br />With an eloquent note, writ most polite<br />On a factory fault in obvious sight.<br />Though a second owner's inherited plight,<br />Steel is steel, please make this right.<br /><em>'Non possiamo, eez-a not our way'</em><br /><strong>@%&#$!!</strong> (as one might say).<br />Our good man Bill was called that day<br />For a Shiloh just five months away.<br /><br />A number three with a long grained stock<br />And feathery case on the lever and lock,<br />Where metal-to-wood will show no slack.<br />The right trued barrel in velvet black,<br />With Baldwin & Axtell, front and back.<br />Two and four tenths for the fire formed tube<br />To fit big bullets and lots of lube.<br />And expectation begins to weigh<br />With the Shiloh only a month away.<br /><br />Shapin' a Lancaster spreads a mess<br />In a shop sized right for a one lung press;<br />"Clear the bench!" came the anguished cry,<br />"Bring brass and the paper patch supply,<br />And where the <em>hell</em> is that long trim die?"<br />With the simmering pot in flux and smoke<br />The smooth-sides roll from the mould from Hoch,<br />'Slice them sprues with a single stroke!'<br />No head for work, no sports hold sway<br />With the Shiloh only a week away.<br /><br />Tossed and turned through a half slept night<br />By a curious dream of a dazzling sight;<br /><em>Formed up at the sides of the marching grounds<br />Were columns and ranks of tall brass rounds;<br />Away in the distance a bugle sounds.<br />Then passing between this picketed track<br />Came a caisson waggon, extended back<br />For a rifle carried in a stalwart rack.<br />Saw the sun on wood and receiver gleam,<br />Saw a skinner rein from the front crossbeam,<br />Drawn by a twenty-one buffalo team...</em><br />Awoke with a start and...what the hey?!<br />Waugh! that Shiloh gits hyar today!<br /><br />Hurrah! hurrah for the <a href="http://www.shilohrifle.com/">Shiloh clan</a>!<br />Hurrah! for their excellent plan!<br />And ever, where white smoke rises high<br />Toward the dome of the silhouette sky,<br />The one-shot shooters will praise the name<br />Of the Shiloh-Sharps—to glorious fame!<br />The handsome rifle of Christian’s wright,<br />Raised to their craftsmen’s practiced height.<br />And worth the dollars and months away,<br />Like damned few things in life, I say.<br /></blockquote><br />(With apologies to Thomas Buchanan Read, and remembrance of his <em><a href="http://www.sonofthesouth.net/union-generals/sheridan/poem-sheridans-ride.htm">Sheridan's Ride</em>)</a><br /><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1157859548332241142006-09-09T20:29:00.000-07:002006-11-09T12:48:55.590-08:00On the occasion of D. C. Roe's 2996 Project honoring the men and women of Patriot Day. September 11, 2006<center><br /><a href="http://www.dcroe.com/2996/?page_id=2"><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/JAM2.jpg" border=0></a><br /></center><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>C</strong>ome, and say a name with me<br />From a sky where reflection shone.<br />A name from a life of family, <br />America’s and your own.<br />Come, we’ll say his name aloud<br />To beckon the memory there<br />Of the father proud of the family proud<br />Of his work in the terraced air.<br /><br />At the back of his mild and easy grin<br />Live thoughts of his younger days.<br />Of visits and kids in the northern twin,<br />Wide eyed at the miles of gaze.<br />His boy looks down with astonished mind;<br />The powers of Dads are <em>cool!</em><br />His daughter, out to a future signed<br />At her feet by the brilliant jewel.<br /><br />Come, and listen for whistling sighs<br />Of winds you can only see.<br />Hear breath and voice in the columns rise;<br />All hollow, if not for these.<br />The deepest quietest voice he hears<br />Speaks pride in an honored life;<br />A murmuring constant across the years<br />From the hearts of a man and wife.<br /><br />Here is a Hero, for his is the dream<br />Of a land renewing and young.<br />To see it you live with a love agleam<br />Where the hero's grace is sung.<br />To memory beckon this grace unbowed;<br />Reply to renewal's call.<br />Come, we'll say his name aloud,<br />The saying to save us all.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br />Jose's cousin, Ruben Esquilin Jr., also perished in the attack on the World Trade Center. You can read his tribute <a href="http://blog.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendID=24447541&blogID=166216205&Mytoken=1E2916B4-C8C7-4A8A-831440D72A6A8BD9297322312">here</a>.<br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1156053044301910662006-08-19T22:42:00.000-07:002006-08-19T23:00:02.983-07:00Sixty...and doing his level best Dept.<p><br />Russ Vaughn is emailing goodies again. Have a look...<br /><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>A New Willy</strong><br /><br />Now don’t think me foolish, or just being silly,<br />When I say that the Democrats need a new Willy.<br />Their Willy’s gone soft amid fortune and fame,<br />He’s no longer up, standing tall for the game.<br />This Willy’s content with the new life he’s found,<br />Able now to engage in full time fooling ‘round.<br />Book deals and speech fees have made life so frilly<br />He’s lost his hard edge, their once potent Willy.<br /><br />The Left wants a Willy to take on the Right;<br />A Willy they know will be up for the fight.<br />They thought theirs was bigger in 2004,<br />Their John had a Willy with scars from the war;<br />But the soccer moms voted for ol’ Georgie boy,<br />Turned on not at all by Teresa’s sex toy.<br />So again I must say and insist it’s not silly,<br />If Dems wanna win, they need a new Willy.<br /><br />Yep Willy’s turned sixty, for Dems a sad day,<br />With no new young Willies yet ready to play.<br />Al Gore’s such a bore, so petty and prissy;<br />Their pretty boy Edwards comes off as a sissy;<br />And Kerry proved last time he’s just a big wimp;<br />Yep, for Dems it appears all their Willies are limp.<br />Their butt’s in a barrel headed straight for Niagara,<br />Doctor Dean should prescribe pre-election Viagra.<br /><br />Dems need a firm Willy for the coming election,<br />One sticking out front, pointing out their direction;<br />But the Mooresoros Moonbats will take a hard stand,<br />Demanding a Willy they can squeeze in their hand.<br />Right now they are thinking a hard-as-nails Hillie,<br />May be all they have to replace their old Willy;<br />Not quite the real deal, but hey, what’s the harm?<br />Like a dildo she’ll do, just lacking the charm.<br /><br />But who wants our country run by such sillies,<br />As folks who can’t tell their Hill’s from their Willies?<br /><br /> —<em>Russ Vaughn</em><br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1154736402342182852006-08-04T16:50:00.000-07:002006-08-15T10:29:06.493-07:00<blockquote><br /><strong>KT</strong><br /><br /><strong>A</strong> brush of slender tone and lively eye<br />As evening's eastern light on darkling hair<br />Refined her style and carriage hastening by;<br />A knot was cinched—a turn and she was there!<br /><br />Adept and standing taller than she was,<br />Now lit, now limned in graceful silhouette.<br />A one who finds élan in what she does<br />Her choring flew, as lively eyes were met.<br /><br />And oh the promise—stirring as the sky!<br />Bright masque on artless affability—<br />Renewed veneer of self inflicted lie;<br />The nacre layered single grain of plea.<br /> And lone it is in passions never slowed,<br /> Exposed of age, of longing, and the road.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1153492978860514232006-07-21T07:32:00.000-07:002006-07-21T07:42:58.960-07:00…And a little churl shall lead them Dept.<blockquote><br /><strong>Of Kos We Can*</strong><br /> <br /><strong>O</strong>h! The voice from the Left ain’t conceptually deft,<br />This is certain from years of close reading.<br />'In the way' by design, with no plan to refine<br />A gross self-centered crave to be leading.<br />But it's hard to be great when your dogma breeds hate,<br />And your econ. just plunders your masses;<br />When your ethos is guilt, in an edifice built<br />On an outlook through woes colored glasses.<br />Still, the morally wan<br />And the spiritually bent<br />Will attend your <em>salon</em>,<br />Nay, they'll flock to your tent!<br />For an outlook through woes colored glasses.<br /> <br />One unfortunate lad philosophically clad<br />In this raiment of pragmatist nonsense,<br />Had an unbalanced itch to improve a bad pitch<br />Pushing less-than-empirical contents.<br />To a <em>guru</em>, he'd heard, they would flock for <em>The Word</em><br />(An approach he has filched from religions)<br />So he makes in the 'Sphere, with disdain and a sneer,<br />A big name for himself feeding pigeons.<br />He just scatters his crumbs<br />As they land on the walk.<br />And, with sizeable sums<br />That he pulls from this flock,<br />Comes a name for himself feeding pigeons.<br /> <br />Now the pigeon's a fowl not polite like the owl,<br />With a shortage of brains that depresses.<br />And, like street-swarming mobs of collectivist snobs,<br />Often circles in groups and makes messes.<br />In appraising his 'troots, this analogy suits<br />The big scene on the screen where they’re flocking;<br />As the coop-master piques, comes a flashing of beaks<br />And the rate that they gobble is shocking.<br />For our pigeon’s a tool<br />And a mark and a dupe, <br />Like an avian fool<br />With the mind of a group,<br />And the <em>prate</em> that they gobble is shocking.<br /> <br />...While the dapper Old Guard (both the smoking and charred)<br />Live in sweat as their sway is declining,<br />Since they've peddled as news <em>faintly</em> prejudiced views<br />With their 'scoops' and their polls heterodyning.<br />Now they're shocked at the whore who, unkempt, at the door<br />Has been summoned by standards invidious,<br />For, as Gresham embraced, when the coin is debased<br />The replacement is something more hideous.<br />There are one or two rules<br />(Half a dozen's my take)<br />Whence good ethicist schools<br />Will predict, if you break;<br />The replacement is ever more hideous.<br /><br />Was it Dewey or Skinner, or some modern spinner<br />Who filled Lefty’s head with commotion;<br />That a fact isn't real, it's an urge that you feel,<br />And historical sweep is mere notion.<br />Which brings us back 'round to where pigeons abound,<br />And the whiff of decay wafts among us;<br />Where the rot is most grim you find people like him,<br />It's the natural function of fungus.<br />For the morally wan,<br />And the spiritually bent<br />Are predictable spawn<br />Of a rotting ferment.<br />It’s the natural function of fungus.<br /></blockquote><br /><br /><strong>*</strong>A song of <em>Point</em> from Gilbert & Sullivan’s <em>The Yeomen of the Guard</em><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1153240622765404342006-07-18T09:32:00.000-07:002006-07-18T22:15:19.526-07:00Nyaah... Dept.<blockquote><br /><strong>Leslie?</strong><br /><br /><strong>T</strong>here's less of the New York Times.<br />I fear <em>mal chance</em> has come<br />(From readers saving dimes)<br />To pinch the silken bum.<br /><br />There's less of the New York Times,<br />'Tis no surprise, but steady;<br />With the daily news it mimes,<br />And its ethics shrunk already.<br /><br />There's less of the New York Times,<br />Da big Manhattan 'rumah'<br />Where Keller rings the chimes<br />For dread and a bigger <em>Umma</em>.<br /><br />There's less of the New York Times,<br />Thus shrinks <a href="http://michellemalkin.com/archives/005562.htm">Michelle's</a> fish wrapper.<br />And thus we end these rhymes;<br />There's less for my two-hole crapper.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1151012124154621652006-06-22T14:31:00.000-07:002007-02-12T21:28:45.810-08:00When the time comes most of us just lie down. There are some who do not. Will not.<br /><blockquote><br /><strong>The Fallen</strong><br /><br /><strong>T</strong>here are ways among the bowers<br />Where counted numbers pass.<br />Steps nodded by by flowers<br />But barely stir the grass,<br />As though ethereal notion<br />Is all these ways have known,<br />And yet may some devotion<br />See drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />Wander the streets and sidewalks<br />That grid and ring the town<br />In that muted hush the hour unlocks<br />When the gibbous moon lies down.<br />There plain on ways deserted<br />Busy throngs may press the lone.<br />Devotion thus concerted<br />Sees drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />For symphonies unconducted,<br />For brush strokes yet unviewed,<br />On stave lines unconstructed,<br />Bright canvas unsubdued,<br />Once burned with staunch emotion<br />The souls of masters known;<br />As an honest soul’s devotion<br />Sees drops fallen on the stone.<br /><br />Who will see the land unseen<br />The counted travel through<br />—They who see <em>our</em> duty clean—<br />And pay the payment due.<br />And who will pass in blindness,<br />Passing free yet often shown<br />Sacred markers that remind us<br />Of drops fallen on the stone.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1148842436333750892006-05-28T11:51:00.000-07:002006-05-28T11:53:56.346-07:00Memorial Day 2006<center><br /><p><br /><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/VDAY04.GIF"><br /><p><br /><i>...Though Heroes live and die to scattered care,<br />There’s honor understanding honor’s guard.<br />Reflect and ponder; who is willing there<br />And why it is so quiet in your yard.</i><br /><br><br /> -from <a href="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/2004_05_28_doggerelpundit_archive.html#108575755719047329">Elements of Chance</a><br /></center><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1146187150232112442006-04-27T18:10:00.000-07:002006-04-27T22:20:17.346-07:00Birthday Greetings IV<blockquote><br /><strong>Saddam Damned. Sad.</strong><br /><br /><strong>A</strong> weary twenty-eighth arrives, to find age sixty-nine,<br />As weary steps from cell to dock pace down your late decline.<br />While screams of "circus" echo round a shoddy ring in glare,<br />For tickets, flaccid pundits pimp you; dismal aging bear.<br /><br />A happy famous birthday this would be, I dare suggest,<br />If you had fled the middle east and made it to the West.<br />Our payments, schools, and voting rights, and healthcare you’d partake,<br />And too! the haters of our land would fête you with a cake!<br /></blockquote><br /><br /><br />Previously....<br /><br /><em>In 2003, we didn't know if he was alive or dead, and sending a card was such a problem...<br /><br /><strong>Damn Sad, Saddam 4/28/03</strong><br /><br />It's April twenty-eighth today, you could be sixty-six.<br />So many tried to keep you on; the French and bloodhound Blix.<br />But you're now past retirement age—high time to sing and laugh.<br />Unless of course you're strewn about, or gone with al Shahaf.<br /><br />So here's a birthday greeting; but it's sad, to say the least,<br />That no one wants to celebrate two numbers of the beast.<br />The crowds are gone, there's no parade, no hat to show you fatuous;<br />Your former slaves are thrilled that your hometown is now un-statueous.<br /><br /><br />In 2004, we did know.<br /><br /><strong>Damn! Sad Saddam 4/28/04</strong><br /><br />Comes now the twenty-eighth again—you're here! You're sixty-seven!<br />Why, we thought bunker-busters had sent you to raisin heaven!<br />Jazeera said you'd not give up; you'd lead, and go down fighting,<br />But you're the lad who called 'jihad' while in your tank, jihiding.<br /><br />George Bush has sent you his regards (though that was weeks ago)<br />And former slaves send greetings, from themselves, and those below.<br />They're gifting you a forum where you'll stand and take the rap;<br />They want to put you 'in the loop'—for you, 't will be a snap.<br /><br /><br />Birthday Greetings III<br /><br />The Bastard of Baghdad, Saddam Hussein was born April 28 1937. This is year number three in the birthday greetings, er, project. How long can it go on?<br /><br /><strong>Saddam Sad? Damn. 4/28/05</strong><br /><br />A year gone by? impossible! but hey, you're sixty-eight.<br />By now, you should have hit the news referred to as "...the late..."<br />It's been a busy year and, through the bars, you may have heard<br />There's been a free election, Dude! your president's a Kurd!<br /><br />Their Congress grips the eye and ear, they've liberation’s taste<br />While, as old Ozymandias, you decay into the waste.<br />May despair be all your lot for each long year that lingers,<br />And bring you low, with steady nudge and sweep of purple fingers</em>.<br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1144972709935631402006-04-13T16:48:00.000-07:002006-04-13T18:54:56.096-07:00Swelled Head Dept.<center><br /><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/ignobel.jpg" border=0><br /></center><br /><blockquote><br />Tough talk <a href="http://littlegreenfootballs.com/weblog/?entry=20083_Ahmadinejad_Be_Angry_at_Us_and_Die_of_This_Anger&only">quoted on LGF</a><br /><br /><em>"ElBaradei told reporters after arriving at Tehran airport that he believed the time was 'ripe' for a political solution. He said he would try to persuade Iranian authorities to meet international demands for 'confidence-building measures, including suspension of uranium enrichment, until outstanding issues are clarified.' "</em><br /></blockquote><br />The issue has some clarity already.<br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1137138918429709122006-01-12T23:53:00.000-08:002006-01-12T23:55:18.443-08:00Good Morning Men...<blockquote><br /><strong>Get a Lift</strong><br /><br /><strong>S</strong>peak to the eyes, by eyes be bound<br />Whenas She sees times equal.<br />Engage the orb above the mound<br />If you, dear sir, would sequel.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1135490002480738372005-12-24T21:44:00.000-08:002005-12-24T21:53:22.490-08:00Merry Christmas to all...<blockquote><br /><strong>Shades of Christmas</strong><br /><br /><strong>I</strong>t's late and quiet and only I<br />Remain awake as sleepers sigh.<br />Our house is mute, the night withdrawn,<br />Unstirred, as though the power had gone.<br />A glow of candles, two or three,<br />Is all except the lighted tree<br />As I lay tinsel, each by hand;<br />From gracefully dangling leaded strand<br />A soft ice gleam to the needled maze,<br />This <em>forest</em> fir bids deeper gaze—<br />Deep, unbeknownst a conjure slips <br />Around me, midst the needle tips.<br /><br />I hear the carols! voices strong;<br />We sang them as a younger song,<br />A choir of friends, sung with a will.<br />This wonder stirs to move me, still.<br />The air grows sharp and I believe<br />I know this time—it's Christmas Eve—<br />Rounds of caroling round me hear,<br />Can there have ever been such cheer?<br />(As lighted branches fill my eyes<br />And tinsel surely self-applies)<br />The choir moves then to separate<br />And closely milling friends create<br />A place for me and I am <em>there</em>,<br />Of special faces now aware,<br />Familiar voices teasing me<br />With old and friendly mockery.<br /><br />I know that boy, tall John it is,<br />And slender Donna's arm links his.<br />Angels that have sung on high<br />Rang true, I met that in their eye.<br />And impish Jacquie, happy child<br />Who secretly my heart beguiled.<br />I see her pleased and singing there,<br />Her night chilled face, red ginger hair.<br />There! Jack and Paul, my merry chums<br />God rest ye, bring ye sugar plums!<br />Such mischief made by honest friends!<br />(That never called for grave amends)<br />Hear! Sandi's sweet soprano voice<br />Will bear the meaning of rejoice!<br />The chorus swells as times compressed<br />I hear and see how I'd been blessed.<br />Abrupt the spell fell, to a yawn,<br />My hands were bare, the tinsel gone.<br /><br />A birthday is a magic time<br />When spirits glow and souls may chime;<br />It's Christmas then, the highest call<br />As Charlie showed us, each in thrall. <br />And you may conjure as he did<br />(Provided you were once a kid)<br />Yet such a spell is not won free<br />But needs your honeyed memory.<br />With all your friends see close and deep<br />If conjured memories you would keep<br />To summon joy's reclusive elf<br />You mark each larger than yourself.<br />The season's magic lies in you<br />As I have seen, and you will too,<br />Thus hear and say, with pleasant tears,<br />A Merry Christmas across the years.<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1132274579209124082005-11-17T16:31:00.000-08:002005-11-18T12:46:27.640-08:00My fog’s thicker than yours! Dept.Bloggers one and many have observed on the spectacle of the Leftist eating its own. Now, the malady has struck <a href="http://www.michigandaily.com/vnews/display.v/ART/2005/11/14/4378360f4f95e">The Vagina Monologues</a>. You might say it was right there in the cue cards. If we haven't got the right people bashing the right people, where are we, anyway?<br /><blockquote><br /> <br /><br /><strong>Ostiumporosis</strong><br /><br /><strong>T</strong>he Monologues sought near and far<br /> For players; Margots, Susans, Dinahs.<br />Now we find—and how bizarre—<br /> They went and cast the wrong *<br /><br />White and Black (and Red and Yellow?)<br /> Set in roles by Ensler's highness,<br />Now the staging’s gone un-mellow;<br /> Grievance cleaves the strong *<br /><br />PC logic drills the masses<br /> Typecast with no trace of shyness;<br />Roles for color, roles for classes,<br /> No role for <em>unique</em> *<br /><br />Search precisely lists of bashists<br /> From this pack of shrieking Mynahs,<br />You won’t find Islamo-fascists'<br /> Sisters, with <em>removed</em> *<br /><br />Gladly most, past ancient pharaohs<br /> Feel the firmer call of Venus,<br />Wish, at arrowed prick from Eros,<br /> Loving <em>dialogue</em> with *<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1131992306025730932005-11-14T09:55:00.000-08:002005-11-14T10:20:38.986-08:00Verse from Russ Vaughn<blockquote><br /><strong>Paristine</strong><br />With a nod to Joseph Farah at World Net Daily<br /><br /><strong>J</strong>acques and his <em>frères</em> are surely weeping<br /><em>Les pauvres immigrès</em> have caught them sleeping,<br /><em>Paysans</em> revolt, their emotions churning,<br />What’s that <em>odeur</em>? Is Paris burning?<br />Within the <em>banlieues</em> there’s no joy<br />Among <em>les jeunes</em> who are <em>sans emplois</em><br />What, take a job? Not the way to go;<br />We’d rather riot, torch your Peugeot.<br /><br />Ah, Mother France you took us in<br />Then left us with no way to win<br />We’re not <em>ègal</em>, not <em>garçons blanc</em>,<br />We’ve no real chance to earn a <em>franc</em>.<br />No, what we are, we’re useful fools,<br />For leftist dreams, just brown-skinned tools.<br />So the Rèpublique’s butt is in a crack,<br />Give your <em>merci</em> to Jacques Chirac.<br /><br />We’ll breed you into minority,<br />Till only mullahs hear your plea,<br />And <em>Shari’a</em> rules throughout your land,<br />A Frenchman steals, he’ll lose his hand.<br />Your licentious lifestyle, long extolled,<br />Will leave your women stoned, dead cold.<br />But everything will turn out fine,<br />In the Muslim Republic of Paristine.<br /><br /> —Russ Vaughn<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1131726191772319682005-11-11T08:20:00.000-08:002005-11-11T08:23:11.783-08:00Veterans Day<center><br /><p><br /><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/VDAY04.GIF"><br /><p><br /><i>...Though Heroes live and die to scattered care,<br />There’s honor understanding honor’s guard.<br />Reflect and ponder; who is willing there<br />And why, it is so quiet in your yard.</i><br /><br><br /> -from <a href="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/2004_05_28_doggerelpundit_archive.html#108575755719047329">Elements of Chance</a><br /></center><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1130353594194149222005-10-26T12:01:00.000-07:002005-10-28T08:48:14.286-07:00Greeks Baring Rifts Dept.Just in time for Halloween, the Goebbles ectoplasm has slimed another news desk. Michelle Malkin <a href="http://michellemalkin.com/archives/003780.htm">shows the results</a>.<br /><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>Illuminoti</strong><br /><br /><strong>L</strong>ast night I saw <a href="http://www.benbest.com/philo/diogenes.html">Diogenes</a>,<br />As yet on his timeless tramp.<br />His gait and bearing showed his years;<br />He was towing a wheeled search-lamp.<br /><br />I varied the ancient question<br />Put to this Greek nocturnalist;<br />"Why a lamp of such candlepower?<br />I am seeking an honest journalist."<br /></blockquote><br />Via <a href="http://instapundit.com/archives/026415.php">Instapundit</a><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1127843140537196422005-09-27T10:31:00.000-07:002005-10-17T22:16:08.330-07:00Bacon, Sausage, Tenderloin, Pancetta, Boston Butt, Chops, Baby back ribs, Ham, and Crispy rinds Dept.*<blockquote><br /><strong>A Natural World</strong><br /><br /><strong>C</strong>onsider the sweep of the sky's deep azure bowl;<br />The roil of clouds, the stately stars unending.<br />Vast cosmic imagery nurtures the human soul,<br />And effectively pictures demand for government spending.<br /><br />Consider the physical world with its rules and laws<br />Of gravity, speed, of light and thermodynamic.<br />As nature abhors a vacuum; without pause<br />The multitude sucking for bucks is panoramic.<br /><br />Consider the lilies abloom in proverbial fields,<br /><em>Sans</em> toil or spin they grace the carpeting grasses.<br />The lowing, feasting herds 'mid beauteous yields<br />Are milked for millions to study prosaic gasses.<br /><br />Consider the Solon ensconced in edict's hall.<br />He is <i>rhymed with stolen</i>, whether active or retired.<br />In the public clamor for boodle he takes the fall;<br />Is he only delivering that for which he was hired?<br /><br />Consider our human intelligence and its choice <br />For thoughtful response to calamities unforeseen.<br />Perhaps it is you and I need change our voice<br />To demands for expenditures mightily less porcine.<br /></blockquote><br /><center><br /><a href="http://truthlaidbear.com/porkbusters.php"><img src="http://DoggerelPundit.blogspot.com/pixx/porkbusterssm.jpg" border=0></a></center><br /><p><br />*Fat tip to <a href="http://www.emersons.net/mt/archives/001043.html">Russ Emerson</a>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1123088627610944662005-08-03T09:53:00.000-07:002005-08-03T10:03:47.616-07:00Unnatural Actress Dept.<p><br />With a hat tip to Ollie North <a href="http://www.townhall.com/columnists/ollienorth/on20050729.shtml">for the title</a><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>Jihad Jane</strong><br /><br /><strong>W</strong>hat a prize to show for her life of toil,<br />A bus that runs on vegetable oil;<br />To keep it running will prove no strain,<br />Run a fuel line from her peanut brain.<br />As once again she shows us all<br />How wrong we are and how we'll fall.<br />She'll grant no quarter, cut no slack,<br />Get her picture taken on a camel's back.<br /><br />Jihad Jane will show us once again,<br />She's smarter than all the President's men;<br />I doubt Sun Tzu could tell us more<br />Than Jihad Jane when it comes to war;<br />She'll save the world, bold Barbarella,<br />More wily and wise than any Army fella.<br />While she fancies herself truly Machiavellian<br />A more apt description is piggy Orwellian.<br /><br />It's true Jane could write an encyclopedia<br />On fooling the drooling mainstream media.<br />Princes of primetime breathlessly follow;<br />Sputum she spouts they eagerly swallow.<br />Trumpet her tripe as trustworthy truth,<br />Pushing her pap down the throats of our youth.<br />Reporters will climb right on down in that sewer,<br />Covering every mile of Jane's veggie-fueled tour. <br /><br />While wiser minds wait, holding their breath,<br />Warily wondering just how much death<br />All her agitprop antics will incite this time,<br />And whose lives will be forfeit for one fool's crime.<br />In most scripts of life, we become wiser with age;<br />But this airhead actress cannot get to that page.<br />So she'll be well remembered, as well she should,<br />As the dumbest damned broad in Hollywood. <br /></blockquote><br /><em><strong>Russ Vaughn</strong><br />2d Bn, 327th Infantry<br />101st Airborne Division<br />Vietnam 65-66</em><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1120856639061178082005-07-08T13:48:00.000-07:002005-07-08T14:05:43.076-07:00The Mouth Shall Rise Dept.<center><br /><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/GALLY.GIF"><br /></center><br />LONDON-Goiters News Service. In a stunning upset, George "Gimmeoil" Galloway was today elected Prime Minister. The oily former MP from Little Storping-on-Islam met with the Queen at Windsor shortly after a contentious speech in the House of Commons, excerpted below. Later this week he will take up residence at Number 10 Downer Street.<br /><blockquote><br />“...To form a new Administration of this scale and complexity is a serious undertaking in itself, but it must be remembered that we continue to dick around in the preliminary stage of one of the greatest battles in history, that we can avoid action at many points in the Middle East, that we can give up Germany, France and Holland, that we have to be prepared to back off in the Mediterranean. Now that heavy appeasement has taken its toll, many preparations have to be made here at home. Gimme oil.<br /><br />In this crisis I hope I may be pardoned if I do not address the House at any length today. I have little to say that will help. I hope that any of my friends and colleagues, or former friends and colleagues, and those who have helped to pay me off, who are affected by the political reconstruction, will make all allowance for lack of ceremony, forethought, and common sense with which it has been necessary to avoid action. I would say to the House, as I said to those who have joined the Government; I have nothing to offer but blood toil tears and sweat. Literally. There will be no new ideas or commitments. No defense of our culture. No way.<br /><br />We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. Self defense. We have before us a chance to avoid many, many long months of struggle and of suffering and thereby completely scuttle Western culture. You ask, what is our policy? I will say: It is to wage appeasement, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us: to wage appeasement to a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime. This is our policy. Up yours!<br /><br />You ask, What is our aim? I can answer in one word: Defeat - defeat - at all costs, defeat, in the face of all terror, defeat, however long and hard the road may be; for without defeat, there is no payoff for Georgie Galloway. Let that be realised; no survival for the British Empire; no survival for all that the British Empire has stood for, no survival for the urge and impulse of the ages, that mankind will move forward. Goody! Let it slide and gimme more oil.<br /><br />I take up my task with buoyancy and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. At this time I feel entitled to claim the aid of all, not to mention more oil money from all. And I say, come then, let us step backward and fall on our asses together, with our divided weakness. Oh, and more oil.”<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><a href="http://www.churchill-society-london.org.uk/BdTlTrsS.html">How it <em>was</a></em>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4003298.post-1119562476834336682005-06-23T14:31:00.000-07:002005-06-23T23:32:53.440-07:00Despise and Resent of the Senate Dept.<br><br /><center><br /><img src="http://doggerelpundit.blogspot.com/pixx/Loser1.jpg"><br /></center><br /><br><br /><blockquote><br /><strong>D</strong> - is for his words of Denigration,<br /><strong>U</strong> - is where to shove them, as in UP,<br /><strong>R</strong> - Regrets his mental constipation,<br /><strong>B</strong> - asks is he Bats or just a schlup;<br /><strong>I</strong> - is for Islamists he is helping,<br /><strong>N</strong> - means this is NOT protecting me,<br /><br />Put them all together they spell DURBIN<br />Too bad <em><strong>he’s</strong></em> not a detainee!<br /></blockquote><br /><p><br /><p>Stephenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09559679229303873926noreply@blogger.com