Boobie International Relations
(from Fernando Po, U.S.A., America's post-literate retreat to Plato's Cave)

When William Randolph Hearst dispatched
His man to Cuba’s shore
He told him in specific terms
What he had sent him for:
To find a war ship resting on
Havana Harbor's floor

But when the man observed The Maine
Afloat like days before
He telegraphed his boss of this
Which angered Hearst, who swore:
“Look: you supply the pictures, friend,
And I’ll supply the war.”

So, soon the mighty Maine went down;
On schedule, so it seemed
Newspapers showed the pictures and
The bold-faced headlines screamed
Into Manila Harbor, then,
The US Navy steamed

In dealing with a world of facts
It often helps to know
Just what the facts are, anyway,
And what they truly show
But if your head’s stuck up your butt
Then grab your nose and blow

We’ve overthrown their governments
And placed our men in charge
We’ve threatened and we’ve bullied them
With bribes both small and large
And now we say we’re “shocked!” to find
There’s gambling on the barge

Don’t look upon his willful works
With jaundiced attitudes
Just think of him and all his friends
As studly Texas dudes
Or soldiers Photoshopped to look
Like joyous multitudes

As Paul O’Neill described his take
On Boobie Cabinetry:
A truly scary scene takes place
Of great perplexity
Where those who cannot hear surround
The one who cannot see

But Boobie pundits cover up
And in their Newspeak bleat:
“None doubt that he has not undone
All wrongs upon his beat.”
(In pundit parlance, mush like this
Counts as a wondrous feat)

John Bolton gave the neocons
Precisely what they sought
A dense prolific problem
Whose opinions could be bought;
Who had a brain the size of Maine
But never had a thought

For decades he had toiled away
In stink-tank padded cells
A schizophrenic bat who had
No belfry for his bells
An unexploded hand grenade
In one of Dante’s hells

By day he hung from ceilings in
His bureaucratic cave
At night he flew away to meet
With those who duly gave
Him orders and instructions as
To how he should behave

A bat-like mole fifth columnist
Installed by Dick and Don
To undermine his boss’s work
From sundown until dawn
Subordinates he downward kicked
While upwards he would fawn

Observers wondered why the State
Department failed to work
How could it with its boss’s blood
Leached from him by a jerk?
Placed at his neck by rivals who
Found treachery a perk

But Boobie Powell must have told
The Boobie Rice of this
Or else Queen of the Damned required
No further vampire kiss
So Bolton flew to the UN
Upon whom he could piss

He held in thrall the credulous
Like pundit David Brooks
Who thought that years of schizoid rants
Made "interesting" books
(Asylums everywhere contain
Such “interesting” kooks)

In clinical psychology
The basic terms are known:
The classic schizophrenic hears
No voice except his own
And, hence, from time to time erupts
In symptoms fully blown

So Boobie George conceived a plan
To win back jilted friends
He’d send a man to woo them who
Believed that each rule bends;
That any means the Boobies used
Would justify their ends

One hardly needs to speculate
About what will ensue
When Boobie Bolton tells the world
What homage we are due
For telling them to go to hell
And how next we’ll them screw

Michael Murry, "The Misfortune Teller," Copyright © 2006