Boobie Exit Interviews
(from Fernando Po, U.S.A., America's post-literate retreat to Plato's Cave)
The Boobies took eight years to learn
What some knew from the start:
That Dubya had no “mind” to waste,
And Cheney had no heart.
Yet still, these two catastrophes
Refused to just depart.
Oh, no. They had to rub it in.
They had to tell more lies.
They sat for “exit interviews”
Where “journalists” reprise
The same old pseudo “questions” meant
To baldly advertise
A shoddy product marketed
For purchase, lease, or rent
To undemanding Boobies who
Will buy the badly bent
As long as someone calls it “straight”
And says it costs a cent.
Dick Cheney sneered and Dubya yawned
At any query posed
To ascertain why these two thugs
Had we, the people, hosed
While “disappearing” nameless souls,
In Cheney’s warped and jaded view
His wiretaps on our calls
Makes “terrorists” of us who talk
While his “surveillance” falls
On anyone who has a phone:
What chutzpah, nerve, and balls!
You see: if someone robs a bank,
In Dick’s analogy,
That means the bank’s depositors
Are “thieves” because, you see:
The one who stole their money
Kept it “safe” from lock and key.
Or, argued in another way,
Dick claims that ignorance
Of what no one can know, in fact,
Just proves -- without a glance --
Whatever dialectic puts
The Boobies in a trance.
For instance, not one asteroid
Has struck the planet earth
Since 9/11, therefore Dick
Now claims this total dearth
Of asteroid collisions proves
That that all his crimes have worth.
In fact, on 9/11, Dick
And Dubya fell asleep
On watch and let 3,000 die
Without the slightest peep;
Which proved they could not “fight them here”
At home where Boobies weep.
Then, just to make things easy on
The ones who meant us harm
Our heroes Dick and Dubya sent
Some troops to buy the farm
Halfway around the world where they
Could lose a leg and arm.
So now 4,000 more have died
With 30,000 hurt
Which shows that when Dick “fights them there”
The meek inherit dirt
In which to lie forever – plus
The slogans Dick will blurt.
Thus, Dick and Dubya stalled for years
And sought to pass the buck.
They lost some “here;” they lost more “there;”
Which only shows they suck
At fighting anywhere at all;
But they don’t give a fuck.
Like, when Dick says: “We just don’t know,”
He really means “we do;”
And arguing from ignorance
Once more proves nonsense “true;”
At least to baffled Boobies taught
To never thoughts construe.
Yet in the land where Boobies doze
And offer no critique
The thieves in highest office plot,
In sturm-und-drang and pique,
Against whomever dares to shop
At freedom’s bad boutique.
No matter what, no matter when,
No matter how or why;
The Boobies let their “leadership”
Decree that others die
In service to no reason known
For which the perps won’t lie.
Now, soon, the Dick and Dubya Show
Will exit from the stage
While laughing madly at the ease
With which they duped an age
Of Boobies who endured their rape
Without the slightest rage.
Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2008