Culture Corner: Obama's Victory Song!

Barack Obama has composed a song to celebrate his election, well, he didn't compose it exactly, he just rewrote the song "C'est moi" from Camelot. Enjoy his humility....

Obamalot! Obamalot!
With policies from France I heard your call.
Obamalot! Obamalot!
And here am I to tax you all.
I know that you expect miracles from me,
And all that and more I shall be.

A President should be convincible,
Believing dictators & their tales.
Convince thugs to not do crime,
Cleave the defence budget in record time,
Fill a moat with tons of my heavy fan mail.
Avoiding all pain, he ought to be unwinceable,
Impossible deeds should be his daily fare.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so *extraordinaire*?

C'est moi! C'est moi, I'm forced to admit.
'Tis I, I humbly reply.
That mortal who
These marvels can do,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never lost
In battle or campaign;
I'm simply the best by far.
When words are crossed
'Tis always the same:
One smile and au revoir!
C'est moi! C'est moi! So adm'rably fit!
An Urban Prometheus unbound.
And here I stand, with my history untold,
Looking charming, amazingly bold,
To beat McCain in the first round!

The soul of a prez should be a thing remarkable,
Containing hope, change, and lobbyists too.
With no will or any self-restraint
To make Bill Clinton look like a saint
He could easily work a miracle or two.
To greed and avarice he ought to be unsparkable,
The ways of the Rezko should offer no allure.
But where in the world
Is there in the world
A man so untouched and pure?
(C'est moi!)

C'est moi! C'est moi, I blush to disclose.
I'm far too noble to lie.
That man in whom
These qualities bloom,
C'est moi, c'est moi, 'tis I.
I've never stayed
With what I claim to believe;
I'm blessed with a rubbery will.
Had I been made
The partner of Eve,
We'd be in Eden still.
C'est moi! C'est moi! The voters have chose
To send the economy low,
And here I stand, as pure as a pray'r,
Surprisingly clean, with no virtue to spare,
The godliest man you know!
C'est moi!

TekTak's Culture Corner: Putin Goes Ray Charles...

Georgia On My Mind by Vladimir Putin

Medvedev's new presidency
And as PM I must start
Make me think of Georgia
Why did we ever part?
Some sweet day when democracies fall
And the world says I'm wrong
I'll go back to Georgia
'Cause that's where my tanks belong.
Georgia, Georgia, the whole day through
Just the old sweet bombs keeps Georgia on my mind.
Georgia, Georgia, I'm conquering you
Comes as sweet and clear as artillery through the pines.
Other nations reach out to me
Beg me to act tenderly
Still in warlike dreams I see
Jets bombing the shit out of you.
Georgia, Georgia, no peace you'll find
Becoming your emperor keeps Georgia on my mind.

TekTak's Culture Corner: Obamalot!

Hello Earthlings, TekTak F. Mechanoid, your favourite singing cyborg here.

Looks like the Right Wing Conspiracy is trying to ham in on my act by doing their own political song parodies.

Well, well, looks like I'm going to have to teach this little upstart a lesson in just who the king of bad-ass beats and melodic mash-ups really is... cause's it a throw-down, a show-down, hell no I won't slow down, 'cause he's gonna go-down....OLD SCHOOL STYLE!


A-hem.... mi-mi-mi-mi....

OBAMALOT
(to the tune of Camelot sung/spoke by Richard Burton)

It's true! It's true! The media's made it clear.
That I, Obama, must be perfect all the year.

I will pass a massive tax-hike right here:
To take away all the money that you've got.
Cause there's a legal limit to what you earn here
In Obamalot.

I will ban all your guns if you remember
One hour after I'm sworn in on the dot.
While terrorists run free and dismember
In Obamalot.

Obamalot! Obamalot!
I know my policies are bizarre,
But in Obamalot, Obamalot
That's how conditions are.

My health plan will cause research to slow down.
And your chance for needed surgery will disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For crippling socialism than here
In Obamalot.

Obamalot! Obamalot!
I know it gives a person pause,
But in Obamalot, Obamalot
Those are my wacky laws.

The fairness doctrine will tell you only my side.
And all my critics will soon disappear.
In short, there's simply not
A more congenial spot
For crippling socialism than here
In Obamalot.

Why mess with the rest, when you've got the best!

Yeah!

Break-dance time!

TekTak's Culture Corner: Hillary Sings! The Bush Sings!

I have just obtained the lyrics to Hillary Clinton's new campaign song. It goes to the tune of Bonnie Tyler's "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and the lyrics were written by Hillary herself...

HILLARY CLINTON'S NEW CAMPAIGN SONG

Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely when voters don't come around
Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit tired of losing to a guy named Obama

Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit nervous that my chance for power has gone by
Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified when I see how my poll standing dies
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart

Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit restless 'cuz Florida's disqualified
Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit pissed off about my hubby's big mouth
Vote for me,

Every now and then I get really angry but women will vote for me when I cry
Vote for me,

Every now and then I get a little bit terrified when I see them vote for the black guy
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart

And I need you to vote white
And I need it more than ever
And if you'll only treat me right
I'll be ruling you forever
And we'll be sticking it to the right
Cause I'm the one who's Caucasian
My race talk maybe goes over the line
And I got Reverend Wright's on Obama's ass all of the time
His preacher is insane and bouncing off the walls
I maybe a woman but I'm the one with the balls

I really need you to vote white
Democrat's gotta vote white
Democrat's gotta vote white

Once upon a time I was Queen of the scene
But now my campaign's falling apart
If you don't vote for me
You can totally kiss my arse

Ultimate power was the light in my life
But now my campaigns as bright as a fart
If you don't vote for me
You can totally kiss my arse

Vote for me white guys
Vote for me white guys

Vote for me,

Every now and then I know you'll never be as electable as little old me
Vote for me,

Every now and then I know Democrats are more racist than sexist

Vote for me,

Every now and then the press acts like there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you
Vote for me,

Everyone knows that there is nothing I wouldn't do to beat you
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart
Vote for me white guys,

Or my poor campaign will fall apart

And I need you to vote white
And I need it more than ever
And if you'll only treat me right
I'll be ruling you forever
And we'll be sticking it to the right
Cause I'm the one who's Caucasian
My race talk maybe goes over the line
But I was actually in the White House once upon a time
Obama's wife is a crank and Iran's dancing in the halls
I maybe a woman but I'm the one with the balls

I really need you to vote white
Democrat's gotta vote white
Democrat's gotta vote white

Once upon a time I the media's star

But now my campaign's falling apart

If you don't vote for me
You can totally kiss my arse

Seizing power was the light in my life
But now everyone loves old Barack
If you don't vote for me
You can totally kiss my arse

And even George W. Bush is getting musical, with this new tune he co-wrote with Carly Simon:

You're So Vain by George W. Bush & Carly Simon

You have the Democratic party
Nomination tied in a knot
Your delegates making you the top guy
Putting Clinton down but not out
And I just make, one little speech
And all of you just freak out
And Joe Biden said it was bullshit,
Said it was bullshit, and

You're so vain
You probably think my speech was about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think my speech was about you
Don't you? Don't you?

You popped up several years ago
And you're still quite naive
Well, you and Iran make such a pretty pair
And from Iraq you will quickly leave
And give away the USA's friends
To some tyrants to appease
I had some words, they were in a speech in the Knesset

Speech in the Knesset, and

You're so vain
You probably think my speech was about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think my speech was about you
Don't you? Don't you?

I had some words they were in a speech to the Knesset
Speech to the Knesset, and

You're so vain
You probably think my speech was about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think my speech was about you

Don't you? Don't you?

Well, I hear you want to go to Venezuela
And tell Hugo Chavez that he's won
Then you'll fly Air Force 1 up to old Tehran
To show Ayatollahs how to have fun

But, you're not on my mind all the time
And when you're not, I'm talking 'bout

Some weak politician kissing up to Hitler
saying "peace in our time," and

You're so vain
You probably think my speech was about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think my speech was about you
Don't you? Don't you?

Who knew this folks were so musically inclined?

TekTak's Culture Corner: Obama Sings Mellencamp!

I just found Barack Obama's new campaign song, it's designed to appeal to small town voters and goes to the tune of John Mellencamp's "Small Town."

Well I hate folks in a small town
And I live in a big town
Wouldn't be caught dead in a small town
Oh, those bitter racist communities

I have no friends in a small town
They're inbred hicks in a small town
They're so dumb in a small town
But I still want them to vote for me

No education in a small town
Cling to guns & Jesus in a small town
They smell funny in those small towns
And aren't nearly as smooth as me

But I don't care for a small town
All inbred hicks in a small town
Married a Princeton doll and avoided small towns
And she's an elitist just like me

No I cannot forget where it is that I come from
I cannot forget the prep-school who taught me
Yeah, I can look down on folks in this small town
And Democrats will still vote for me

Got nothing to offer a small town
Still elitist enough to say
Look at the dummies in the small town
But my bed is in a large house
Oh, and thats good enough for me

Well I got elected in a big town
But I'd have to work for a living in a small town
Gonna spit on this small town
And Democrats will still vote for me

TekTak's Culture Corner: The Boston Primary

Hello Earthlings.

TekTak here, and I have a new song. It's the new theme for Barack Obama's campaign, rewritten by Obama himself.

You can sing along to the tune of "More Than a Feeling" by Boston.

Nothing More Than A Feeling by Barack Obama

I looked out this morning and the vote was done
Turned on CNN to start my day
They're telling me I can do no wrong
I closed in as Hillary's lead slipped away

Its nothing more than a feeling, when I talk I've nothing to say
(A kinda warm fuzzy feeling)
You must be dreaming
(Nothing more than a feeling)
To expect something real any day
Wish all the big issues away

More qualified people have come and gone
Their issues fade as the days go by
Yet I still remain because I ramble on
Bland platitudes that's all pie in the sky

It's nothing more than a feeling, when I talk I've nothing to say
(A kinda warm fuzzy feeling)
You must be dreaming
(Nothing more than a feeling)
To expect something real any day
Just wish all the issues away

You're tired and Hillary's turning cold
You hide in my speeches, forget the day
And dream of a time that never was
Just close you eyes and vote for me
You vote for meeee.
Vote for meee.

It's nothing more than a feeling, when I talk I've nothing to say
(Nothing more than a feeling)
You must be dreaming
(A bland fuzzy feeling)
And then you turn off your brain and vote me!
Turn off your brain and vote for me!

The Return of Vox- Hillary's New Tune!

Hi folks, Vox Poplar here. Sorry I was gone so long, you probably missed me. I know I missed all of you. I especially miss, missing the Roast!

Alien bastards....

And I missed Rogue nominating me for a blogger reflection award, so there's some belated thanks. I have terrible timing, I know. Anyway... I'm back and though I won't be doing the solo blog thing anymore, I will still be an occasional contributor to the MoxArgon Group. And today, I did a little digging, and I found out Hillary Clinton's new campaign fundraising song. She's trying to appeal to the hip-hop community I guess. Check it out...

BABY GOT CASH by Sir Fix-A-Lot

I like big bucks and I cannot lie,
You politicians can't deny,
That when a guy walks in with a big fat check bag and
A wad o'cash in yo face, you get hot.
I wanna sell & be bought cuz I noticed that fund was stuffed.
deep in the wallet he's wearin',
I'm hooked and I can't stop starin'.



Oh baby, I wanna get wit ya,
And pose wit'yo' in a picture,
Republican boys say I'm sleazy,
that fund u got,
is makin me win easy

Oh, Mister Hsu's got the greens,
I say I wanna get in your benz,
Well use me, use me, cuz I am politically loopy.
I get them dancin', to hell wit romancin',
I'm a threat...bet...
Fund-raisin' like a turbo vet,
I'm tired of magazines,
Sayin' straight bucks are the thing,
Get the average Democrat and ask them that,
She's gotta pack much cash,

So fellas (YEAH!) Fellas (YEAH!)
has your Hillraisers got the bucks (HELL YEAH!)
so raise it, ya
so raise it, ya, raise them shifty bucks,

Baby got cash!
(L.A. face with Chinese money)
Baby got back
(L.A. face with Chinese money)
(L.A. face with Chinese money)

I like war chests round and big,
And when I'm throwin' a gig I just can't help myself,
I'm greedy like a animal, My campaign is one big scandal,
I wanna get ya vote, and uh, double up, uh-uh.
I ain't following the law boy, Like lead parts in Chinese toys,
I want cash quick and dirty, so make my war chest double,
Hillary's in trouble, beggin & turnin' democracy to rubble.
So I'm livin like a rock video,
My bundlers raisin' cash like hoes,
You can't have access, without cash that's a big no-no.

A word to all my Hillraisers
I'll raise moolah wit ya
Or I will cuss & hit ya
But I gotta be straight when i say i wanna (cha-ching)
Till the break-of-dawn, money got it goin on,
MoveOn folks will like this song,
Cuz Iraq I will quit it,
And I will not stay and fight,
Cuz I'm wrong and I'm strong,
And I'll soon be on the White House lawn,

So Ladies (YEAH!) Ladies, (YEAH!)
You have to vote for me & my buddies? (YEAH!)
so whip around, hand it out,
Even George Soros got to shout,
Baby got cash
Baby got cash

Yeah baby...
When it comes to bein' female,
morals ain't got nothing to do with my election,
507C!
Ha Ha, only if they got cash for me
So your average voter in a Honda,
Thinks I'm to the left of Jane Fonda,
But Fonda ain't got a hybrid motor in her Honda,
My campaign don't know you unless you got money hun.
You can do polls, or put signs up,
But please gimme all them bucks,

Some politicians wanna play that hard role,
And tell you that bad cash ain't gold,
So they toss it,
And leave it,
And I pull up quick to retrieve it.

So they say your wallet's fat,
Well I am down wit that,
Cuz your rap sheet's small and your funds are kickin',
And I'm thinkin 'bout stickin,
It to Republicans in the magazines,
You ain't it, Miss Thang,
Give me a rich Mista, cant resist-a,
They'll say dirty money didn't miss her,
Some knucklehead tried to diss,
The crooks on my money list,
He had Oprah but he chose to hit 'em,
Cuz I wouldn't let him get wit 'em,
So crooks wit' lotta cash around,
And you wanna tear George Bush down,
Dial 1-900-HILL-YEAH, and kick'em in da nuts,
Baby got cash
Baby got cash

Liberal hiding in the middle but she got much cash,
Liberal hiding in the middle but she got much cash,
Liberal hiding in the middle but she got much cash,
Liberal hiding in the middle but she got much cash,

BAGMAN ON THE RUN!

Evening everybody, it's your pal Norman Hsu here, and I got another song to commemorate my recent flight from the law. I hope you like it.

Snuck outside those four walls, ran away forever,
For raising shady money for Democrats to use,
Jail Hsu, screw you.

I'll never get sent in there,
Because I was giving cash away
To the Democrat Party.
All I need is to run far away
And I'll never get sent to there. (If he ever gets sent there)

Well, my plan exploded with a mighty crash
And I went on the run,
And George Soros said to the Clinton so fair
I Hope you're having fun.

Bagman On The Run, Bagman On The Run.
And The Jailer Man and LAPD Sam were searching every one
For the bagman on the run, Bagman on the run,
Bagman on the run, Bagman on the run

Well, the big Judge drew a heavy sigh
Seeing that I didn't come,
And an alarm was ringing in the village square
for the bagman on the run.

Bagman On The Run, Bagman On The Run.
And the Jailer Man and LAPD Sam were searching every one
For the bagman on the run, Bagman on the run,
Bagman on the run, Bagman on the run

Yeah the Bagman On The Run, Bagman On The Run,
Bagman on the run, Bagman on the run

Well, the night was falling as the political world
began to settle down.
In the town they're searching for me everywhere,
but I never will be found.

Bagman On The Run, Bagman On The Run.
And the county judge, who held a grudge
Will search for evermore

For the Bagman On The Run, Bagman on the run,
Bagman On The Run, Bagman On The Run

Culture Corner: A Boy Named Hsu

Howdy y'all, my name is Norman Hsu.

Y'all may reckon me by my fundraising for Hillary Clinton and my recent legal troubles.

But I'm more than that.

I'm also a country and western singer, and I'd like to play you a little tune I wrote while waiting in the lock-up to be punished for my crimes.

A BOY NAMED HSU

Apologies to Shel Silverstein & Johnny Cash

My sentence was hard time for three
But prison time just ain't for me
I got lots of money and buddies in the news
Don't hate me cause I ran and hid
To escape doing time for the fraud I did

Well, I thought doing time was quite a joke
cause you shouldn't go to jail when you're rich folk,
I didn't want to fight my whole life through.
My cellmate would grope me and I'd get red
And some guard would laugh and then bust my head,
I tell ya, jail life won't be easy for a boy named "Hsu."

Well, I had to be quick and I had to be keen,
My cash was cold for when I got seen,
I'd roam from Malibu to Washington and not hide my name.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I'd ride in SUVs and luxurious cars
And raise money for folks who can bury my shame.

Well, it was a campaign in mid-July
And I just hit Beverly Hills and my cash was high,
I thought I'd stop and throw Democrats a do.
They didn't care if my name was mud,
Cause I was fundraising double-dealing stud,
Not a dirty, mangy crook the cops named "Hsu."

Well, I knew that they knew I was a big cad
But they loved me because of the cash I had,
And a certain political filly caught my eye.
She was blonde and sharp and shady and cold,
And on the campaign trail she could be a scold
And I said: "My name is 'Hsu!' How do you do!
Do you want my big money pie?"

Well, I tossed some cash right before her eyes
And she loved me for it, but to my surprise,
She kept wanting more if I wanted a piece of her ear.
I had to raise more or be treated like meat
I stopped short of selling my sweet ass on the street
My cash paying to sling her mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I ain't met any meaner men
Than Hillary Clinton,
She kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
When my crimes leaked out and made a fuss,
She tossed away my money like it was cursed,
And stood there lookin' at me with a phony smile.

And she said: "Hsu, an election is rough
And if a woman's gonna make it, she's gotta be tough
But I shouldn't be there to help you along.
So I give away some cash and say goodbye
And you have to go to jail and fry
It's all in the game that will to make me strong."

He said: "Now you turn yourself in and let the lawyers fight
And don't you hate me, though you got the right
To give Obama money, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.
But I ought to thank ya, before you fry,
For the cash in my kitty from all your other guys
But I won't cause I'm the bitch that denied knowing "Hsu.'"

I got all choked up and I lost all my fun
And I offered her more cash, and she promised me a pardon,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about her, now and then,
Every time there's a scandal and every time she'll spin,
And if I never get a pardon, I think I'm gonna blame her
Not Bill or George! But Hillary and I will hate that name!

Yee-haw!

Remember vote Democrat, or I won't be getting out of jail!

And don't forget to visit here for info on the Remulak MoxArgon roast. I wish I could go, but I'm in the jailhouse now...

...hmmm....

That could be the title of a country tune....

An Android Among The Stars #15: Here's the Pitch.

Greetings puny organics.

Remulak told me to check out the latest rant by Libertas blogger Dirty Harry about Hollywood's overwhelmingly anti-American stance.

Well as a logical being, I found it hard to believe that Earthlings who enjoy wealth, fame and success far beyond their talents or intellect would be so suicidal as to take the side of the opposition in an existential struggle as the current war against Islamist fascism. So I decided to investigate it myself by listening in on what's called a pitch meeting between a writer and a studio executive.

-------

WRITER- You're gonna love this idea, it's got everything, action, romance, special effects, it's got that 'ripped from the headlines' kinda vibe and is so tight not even Brett Ratner can ruin it.

EXEC- My nipples are hard just hearing about it. What's the title?

WRITER- It's called "Dirty Bomb."

EXEC- Love it, love it, it sounds dirty. What's the plot?

WRITER- An American soldier on leave from Iraq, played by Matt Damon, discovers that Islamic terrorists are going to set off a dirty bomb in the middle of a mid-western American city. Then it's a race against time for him to stop the plot and save the woman he loves, played by Jessica Alba.

EXEC- Love it! I love it. If that script was a woman I would cheat on my wife with it.

WRITER- Then we have a deal?

EXEC- Hell no.

WRITER- What's wrong with it?

EXEC- Nothing. I love the script. I truly, madly and deeply love the script. If it was a man, I would turn gay and we'd get married in Massachusetts. But there's no way in hell this, or any other, studio in Hollywood is going to make that film.

WRITER- Why not?

EXEC- First, you have an American soldier, an Iraq war vet, as the hero. That is just so wrong on so many levels.

WRITER- What's wrong with having an American soldier as the hero?

EXEC- All American soldiers must be portrayed as psychopathic, war-mongering, uneducated redneck losers. That's the truth we see around Malibu.

WRITER- Maybe I can have him being troubled by flashbacks of gunning down a mosque full of babies.

EXEC- And make him want to set off the bomb himself, to satisfy his militarist lust for blood and carnage. Plus, you need a new villain.

WRITER- What's wrong with the villain?

EXEC- You're not allowed to show Islamist terrorist killing people.

WRITER- But Islamic terrorists kill people everyday.

EXEC- Shhh! CAIR might be listening. And if you displease them, you displease all Muslims. At least that's what they tell us. They could sue us, or kill us, and that's bad.

WRITER- Who can be the villain? Who would want to set off a dirty bomb in a mid-western city?

EXEC- German Neo-Nazis are always good in a pinch. Or they could be crazy Christians.

WRITER- Aren't you worried about offending Christians?

EXEC- Naw, they don't sue, or cut throats. We can say what we want about those inbred Bible thumping Jesus freaks and get away with it.

WRITER- How about German Neo-Nazi Christians?

EXEC- I'm liking it, I'm liking it. We certainly can't make them Pagan vegetarian socialists, they've never harmed anyone. Oh, and make them connected to Republicans and Global Warming.

WRITER- Why?

EXEC- We have to make the Republicans look bad. So have the head Neo-Nazi Christian look like Dick Cheney. And instead of German, let's make them Southern Americans, we don't want to offend the German market. Them Southern hillbillies are too busy burning books and humping their cousins to go to the movies anymore.

WRITER- Okay. But why include Global Warming?

EXEC- Because I have a sh*tload of stock in Al Gore's company, and I gotta sell a lot of offsets to be forgiven for my stretch Escalade.

WRITER- Sounds reasonable.

EXEC- And make sure that it all comes out that it's really a CIA front operation. Some kind of Reichstag fire deal to make America the fascist dictatorship it is today.

WRITER- Gotcha. Anything else?

EXEC- Let's see, we have a psychotic American soldier fighting a bunch of Southern Neo-Nazis for the right to set off a bomb for the CIA, thus allowing an evil right wing-coup to destroy the country. Sounds about right. And be sure to have someone looking wistfully at the flag and give a speech about how great America used to be, you know, before the Republicans came along. We don't want anyone questioning our patriotism.

WRITER- It's a pretty major rewrite.

EXEC- All you have to remember kid is that Republicans are evil, and you'll go far in Hollywood.

-------------------------

Well, that was very.... illuminating.

--END COMMUNICATION--

New Excerpt: The 1st Casualty by Scott Thomas Beauchamp

This is our second excerpt from Scott Thomas Beauchamp's memoir of the Iraq War. Read the first excerpt here.

+++++

"Dagnabbit!" barked Private Cletus Huckleberry. "Could you gimme a hand Bow-champ what with you being so strong and manly?"

"What's the problem?" I asked Cletus.

Cletus raised his rifle, and I saw what was stuck to it.

"Could you help pull this dang blasted dead baby off my dang bayonet," said Cletus.

"I will not participate in a cover up of your war crime," I declared, my deep, rich baritone echoing above the screams of the people my unit were torturing for the crime of looking at us funny.

"That's your answer to everything," said Cletus. "You said the same thing when I asked you to pass me the salt in the mess hall. You ain't right in the head."

Maybe I'm just a little too 'right in the head' for this madhouse born from the blood-drenched wet-dreams of the neocon-zionist conspiracy.

"I'd ask Killum to help pull it off," muttered Cletus, "but he's from Texas, and they eat babies in Texas. I need the skull to make a set of home-made tea-cups for Lurlene."

For once Cletus was right about something. They do eat babies in Texas. At least that's what Jayson Blair said in his New York Times article "Texans Eat Babies."

I turned away from Cletus in deep moral and intellectual disgust. Seymour Hersh was write, the US military is comprised of cowardly, baby-killing, homicidal maniacs.

Except for me.

I'm the only true hero in Iraq.

I write for The New Republic.

#

"What in the Sam-Hill are you doing Private Scott Thomas Beauchamp?" bellowed Sergeant Rock from the comfort of his tent of Iraqi skins built on a pile of human skulls.

"I'm reading a book," I answered, it was an old worn copy of Che Guevera's The Motorcycle Diaries, with all the racist and sexist entries edited out.

"A book!" screamed the Sergeant as he stormed out of his tent. "There ain't no place for books in this man's army! Burn it now!"

Sergeant Rock tore the book from my hands and tossed it onto a burning pile of Iraqi civilians.

"Some day Sergeant," I declared, "there will come a time when the world will know the truth about this war!"

"With Fox News brainwashing the American people?" said Sgt. Rock with scorn. "Not bloody likely!"

Sgt. Rock climbed back into his tent, closed the flap and immediately began masturbating to mass-grave photos. He was right in his own sick and twisted way. The only way the American people would ever get the truth about this war was if the Democrats put forward some sort of doctrine, one based on fairness. Where places like Fox News, Talk Radio, and milbloggers could have their filthy lies permanently silenced and true heroes like Seymour Hersh, Ambassador Joe Wilson, and me, could profess the truth without facing any challenging questions about whether they're actually factual or not.

Sure, the fascists on the right will call it censorship, but it's a good type of censorship, on based on the beliefs and saintly motivations of people like me, who not only know better than them, but actually are better than them.

When will America learn?

The End...?

Culture Corner: The New Republic of Truth...

Howdy fellow Earthlings.

I've been doing a little digging about this whole Scott Thomas/New Republic kerfuffle and I've found an exclusive scoop under the rock of truth.

It's an excerpt of Scott Thomas' upcoming memoir of the Iraq War.

Enjoy the cold stench of the truth....

++++++

THE FIRST CASUALTY OF WAR
by
Scott Thomas
(New Republic Press)

"Listen up you dog-faced maggots!" barked Sergeant Rock as he came out of his tent which he kept on top of a pile of Iraqi baby skulls. "We've got orders. We're to got the village of Al Kebab and kill everyone in there. Especially the women and children."

"But sir," I said, my voice deep, rugged and manly. "Why do we have to kill the women and children?"

"Because we're American soldiers!" bellowed Sergeant Rock, flecks of rabies-like foam flying off his mouth. "Slaughtering innocent women and children is why we exist and what we do best."

I caught a glance at the orders in his hand.

"Why are our orders written in Hebrew?" I asked, suspicious of a possible Zionist theocratic conspiracy being behind our mission in Iraq.

"Why are you asking all these logical and rational questions about our mission?" demanded Sergeant Rock. "Are you one of those intellectual giants who write for the New Republic, who are greater defenders of American liberty than the crypto-fascist shock-troopers we are?"

"No sir," I said, although I wasn't afraid of the Sarge, New Republic writers never feel fear, I decided to keep my true mission a secret.

"Now move out and go kill us some civilians!" ordered the Sergeant. "Our Israeli masters demand blood. You are ordered to ignore that reference to our Israeli masters!"

#

The drive to Al Kebab was long, and the road was dusty. So I decided to shoot the breeze with my colleagues. They were the typical Red State breed that represent all personnel in the US Military.

There was Private Cletus Huckleberry, he was raised in the cotton fields of West Virginia. His family of illiterate Appalachian mountain cotton pickers had lost their entire crop to the great Global Warming caused boll weevil scourge of 2005. This left Cletus with no job, no food, no skills, and a case of complete illiteracy. The Army was his only option.

"I ain't reckon on fancy book learnin'" said Cletus, which was his answer to any question that didn't involve the cooking and eating of something called a 'varmint.' I had simply asked him about the weather. I decided to ask him about something else.

"What are your plans for after the army?" I asked.

Cletus shrugged. "I guess I'll go home to Nutter's Crotch West Virginny and marry my cousin."

"Which one?" I asked, knowing he had dozens, all between the age of eleven and fourteen and all named Lurlene.

"Whatever one ain't preggers at the moment with another man's baby," said Cletus. "I hope it's one I ain't molested yet. I like surprises."

"Who cares about weddings!" screamed Corporal Kenny Killum at the top of his lungs. "There's a lot of killing to do! Maybe we can rape some people!"

"It's wrong to rape women," I said trying to be the voice of reason and civilization, like John Edwards.

"Who said anything about women?" asked Corp. Killum. "I'm from Texas! Yee-ha!"

"Stop the truck!" screamed Corporal Ted Token, he had joined the Army to escape the segregated African American slums of the South and be taught reading, writing and basic math. Instead he had been trained to be an ice cold killing machine.

"What's up Corporal Token?" I asked, tightening my flak vest around my broad manly chest, my pectoral muscles rippling in anticipation of combat. "Is it insurgents?"

"No," said Token as the truck screeched to a halt. "There's a woman who has third degree burns. Let's verbally abuse her and give her more emotional scars to go with her physical ones."

#

I could make out the reflection of my chiseled handsome face reflected in a puddle of Iraqi children's blood. We entered Al Kebab, there were no insurgents, so my unit slaughtered everyone they could find, shooting, stabbing, burning and some pretty vicious pointing at genitals.

"Look at me," said Kenny Killum, dancing and capering wearing a necklace of children's head. "I got me some jewelry!"

I sighed at the rabid inhumanity of my fellow soldiers. Here they were fighting insurgents and trying to promote democracy like the foul cowardly savages they were while the world ignored the real heroes of freedom. People who ran magazines that condemned the US government in wartime, reporters who published top secret war information, and Democratic members of congress who held weekly anti-war votes to undermine this horrible fascist war.

And then there's me.

The greatest hero of all time.

++++++

Scott Thomas Beauchamp is the Ernie Pyle of the 21st century.

Culture Corner: Response to the Poetry of Terror

Greetings puny Earthlings.

My, my.

The first issue of Culture Corner has already garnered a response in a very short time. It seems a lot of puny Earthlings don't care for poetry or the people in Gitmo writing poetry. Here are some of their comments:

Anonymous said...

You are sick.

Well, I do have some sniffles, but that mostly due to an allergy to dander from my wife's pet Farbog. But thanks for the concern for my health.

Patty said...

I support GWB’s right to unlawfully hold these prisoners and torture the shit out of them. Who cares if some of them may be innocent they are just dirty brown people anyway. Let’s just continue to rape them. I enjoy hearing that these dirty brown people are subject to eating their own shit.

Gee Patty. I find your comment both racist and misinformed.

First, Jihadist detained at Gitmo are not "dirty brown people" like you say, but relatively clean people from a wide variety of Earth's genetic spectrum. So your attempt to brand them all as "dirty" and "brown" shows that deep down, you are a racist.

Also, the accusations of torture at Gitmo, as filed by a captured Jihadi, according to his training claims that the worst offenses didn't involve being raped, but involving having an underinflated soccer ball, getting shaved against his will, and having a poor quality morning newspaper.

Considering that these are guys who watch beheading videos like pr0n, that's not much in the line of torture. And while the coffee at Gitmo isn't the best (it's that instant crap) you should probably know something about the Gitmo prisoners. Prisoners don't gain weight by eating their own shit.

One thing that is a proven fact, is that Gitmo detainees are definitely better treated than anyone taken prisoner by the groups Gitmo detainees belong to.

Rick said...

Let's try to get our minds around one thing: except for a small portion of America, like those of us in the fields of Left Blogsylvania, no one fuckin' cares that innocent people, captured, tortured, tortured again when they try to protest are in U.S. custody. It's easier to just believe the Gitmo detainees are, as the administration tells us repeatedly, terrible, awful, murderous people. 'Cause not to believe that means you have to confront what's being done in your name. Or suppress it in that Great American Storehouse of Repressed Memory, hoping it never creeps out to consciousness.

Bush would like you to just shrug your shoulders if a few hundred innocent "dirty brown" people are tortued and killed at Gitmo it is no great loss really, they are probably just terrorist lovin evil doers anyway. Those poems will certainly prove that!

Okay.

So you are operating under the assumption that all prisoners at Gitmo are innocent of terrorism. Many of them are admitted members of Al-Qaida, attended Al Qaida training camps, and have actively participated in terrorist activities in the name of jihad.

And what about the detainees that were released from Gitmo? Many of them have been recaptured, actively engaging in terrorist activities for Al Qaida. I guess the Americans must have made them that way.

Wow, this has been eye opening. Your responses have taught me a few things about the political left.

1. Leftists only believe terrorists who are trained to lie over their own democratic countries.

2. Leftists automatically assume that suspected terrorists who kill for dictators are innocent, yet democracies are always assumed as guilty.

3. Leftists believe that only democratic nations engage in torture and mistreatment. All the other countries that mutilate, castrate and defenestrate prisoners on a daily basis, are only expressing their culture.

4. Leftists automatically assume all others are racists, because deep down, they are the worst racists themselves.

5. Leftists have nothing better to do than post rambling profanity strewn comments on minor political satire blogs in the vain hope that if they use the words "fuck" and "shit" as punctuation to their pre-packaged Democratic Party -Move On- Al Qaida talking point screeds they will somehow convince people that they are right.


Thanks for your input folks. You've taught me a lot about your particular Earthling sub-species.


PS: You forgot to tell me that I'm "worse than Hitler." Come on, get with it people. You're getting a little slow on the uptake.

Culture Corner: The Poetry of Terror

A publisher is planning to release a book of the collected poems of Guantanamo Bay prisoners for the edification of Islamists and Moonbats the world over.

In honour of this momentous literary event we at the MoxArgon Group have started Culture Corner to look at the low-down of the high-brow world. And for our inaugural edition we have a selection of the poems being written by the sage scribes of Gitmo.

1.
Roses are reddish
Violets are blueish
Let me out now
So I can kill all the Jewish

2.
I want to cut your throats
Killing your kids is good
And it's all your fault
'Cause Rushdie gotta knighthood

3.
We will kill you all
Your empires will fall
It will happen soon
Because you printed a cartoon

4.
I'd rather cut necks
Than have sex
I'd rather cut throats
Than screw goats

5.
Lefties want me free
To go on a killing spree
Gitmo is cruel
Is what I say to the fools
For getting a lap dance
From a woman in hot-pants

6.
There once was a man from Nantucket
Then I killed him and his family

Wow, it really shows the soulful depths of the imprisoned Jihadist.

Anyone else have a poem from Gitmo? Leave it in the comments...