the shotgun of Richard Cheney, vice-president





love is fickle, love is true

you decide, Machiavelli
didn't you say it were better a
leader (excuse me, a prince

and there's the wrong rub, Mikey  
because we don't have a prince, we have a  
republic amen God bless & keep her  
in spite of all the well-educated  
idiots and power mongers  
who massage her purse  
and kiss her red ink )
it were better a prince
be loved but he also
must be feared

what kind of                 l o v e                  is mere approval rating  ?

supposedly "our" president said

in private
that if he watched "his" poll numbers
he would lie in a fetal position
on   the   floor

well at least someone has not lost their sense of humor

no quote marks required   
t  h  e  r  e  ,    n o ;
but then the vice shot his hunting partner

so we can forget
Babylon       a n d

Valerie Wilson (whitehouse-outed CIA, ambassador's wife)

o r   byzantine & brazen
refusing to release

Jack Abermoff photographs

( oh pleaaaseeeeeeee ,  
everyoneeeeeee wants a photo with el jefe )
and the K Street project
.

I used to drive messages on K and imagine
the nine-storey buildings were all like space ships
floating out there somewhere

but that was long ago on another planet before
old Raygun came riding in to triumph
like Lochinvar from the west
the glory of right-wing
H o l l y w o o d
¿ ain't that a contradiction in seagull terms ?
.

no yeah anyway  now  look  &
hear the press jackals barking and howling again
so forget all those scandals and all the others because what
really matters is that the White House didn't tell us for
almost 24 hrs, God ha'Mercy NOT FOR 24 HOURS
t h a t    the old corporate   
veep done gone & shot his hunting partner
( there's metaphor @ Babylon if ever )
and even then subtext
THEY didn't tell "us"
no no no no no not them no no no

no, some one else did yes
can't you hear them whine
those dogs we love to hate
meat on dirty bones give us
bloody laundry
tragedy

Clytemnestra stabbing Agamemnon
in the bath
no, raptor, don't do it, let it be...

(  see the bubble-headed bleach
    blonde on the news at six
  – is the head dead yet –
    it's intrestin' when people die
    give us paparazzi  )

the press, yes, grrrrrr bark bark whine

( now don't read me literal libber-synching wrong I   l o v e   to criticize
    my favorite gossip mongers  [ All about it READ
       ALL About TITilating
          and asinine ]  and  yes  I  would      b e
     veryyyyyy sad to see them go away
, no no no I want them to stay and say exactly
     the howling whines like they always do
my God they're as bad as British parliament
bark bark bark growl growl growl MEOW

HEY GET THAT DARN KAT outahyar
to feed us the pablum and tabloid garbage we demand
in order to sell out lots and lots of advertising
yes, [it's all about business, READ
ALL about it between the lines]
but why, because M.I.C.key etc
valentine heart
             the freedom of the press
is mine and yours and theirs too
the constitution doesn't say who
o n l y    w h a t )
but please oh spokesman for my Lord the king
why whine all this the byzantine secrecy
oh the humanity of it all woe is me brow-beating
chest-thumping tear-my-hair rip-my-clothes and then go
down in   screaming   on-line flames  democracy  Hindenburg
shake & bake me  in ashes and sackcloth  oh yesssss  oh no no no
rip-rents already sewn in for grief & woe sacrilege convenience
"AND WHY, oh lord?" — why oh why didn't you tell us
nothing for twenty-four hours???             
W H A T
IS this world
CoMinG TOOOOOOOOO???!!!!!!   

heh heh heh heh heh

*sigh* — I actually miss Washington D.C. sometimes. Some times.