Hillary, Barack and John

[Sung to the tune of "Abraham, Martin and John"]

Anybody here seen my old friend Hillary?
Where the hell is she today?
She's trying to please the people.
Where have all true statesmen gone?
She's just another sad cliche.

[Repeat for the other two]

***

Addendum:
I'd rather play the tuba
than live in Castro's Cuba
and contract diarrhea
than live in North Korea

I'd rather eat a tack
than dine out in Iraq
Still, I would move thereto
before I'd vote for you

Another English Question for the Overeducated

Why in English speaking countries do we always start with a famous Jew ("Begin")
and end with something Scandinavian ("Finnish")?

Green with Duty

Evidently my mother is depressed, drained to the point of surrender by so many greedy children suckling at her once ample resources. She may even be near death, a terrifying prospect to any of us, her children, who have been so comforted by the constancy of her massive roundness.

I am speaking of course of my Mother Earth, as I prepare to celebrate Mothers Day - or as some call it, Earth Day - on April 22nd.

Why April 22nd, you may ask? Fortunately for you, I have researched the subject. First of all, April is National Anxiety Month. Secondly, the traditional time out of a mothers greatest anxiety is what we have labeled "the terrible twos," that time in her life when her children are two years old and have just enough humanity to begin to act audaciously, but not enough to know the reasons for pretending to care. Mother Earth's progeny - you and I - have never grown out of the terrible twos.

Why not just celebrate Mother Earth on the same day we celebrate all the other mothers, you ask? The answer to this question is shrouded in mystery, but I think it may have something to do with money going various ecological causes. Secondly, I am pretty sure that even P.E.T.A. types know that human mothers are a completely different species than planets.

So, on April 22nd, give the Earth a hug and a kiss, a nice little gift (nothing elaborate-a dainty green handkerchief will do, maybe with a little design on one corner; you know how much she likes that), and a quiet lunch in a vegetarian restaurant. And please don't make her pay. Give her breasts a rest.

Croc, a poem

Here's a lesson from the crocodile,
who greets you with a habitual smile.
Hot or depressed or weary from labors,
he still finds a way to show kindness to neighbors.

So now my fist too mutates to a false fin.
I show just enough of my chinny chin grin
(without the tiniest hint of pretension)
to hide, with all mankind, my natural intention.