for
FRACTURED BUSH TALES
...www.bushwatch.com
for
FRACTURED BUSH TALES
...www.bushwatch.com
The Craven
by Edgar Allen Woe
Once upon a season dreary, while we pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of Florida electoral lore --
While they counted, nearly drooling, suddenly there came a ruling.
As of Scalia sternly schooling, "No time to recount before the Yuling."
"Quit your fooling," we muttered, "This must be some kind of partisan dueling --
Only this and nothing more."
Ah, distinctly we remember it was in the bleak December
As equal protection was dismembered, and applied as never before
Eagerly we wished the morrow -- vainly we had sought to borrow
From the Court surcease of sorrow -- sorrow for the lost Al Gore
The doomed and dented candidate whom the pundits called The Bore --
Nameless here for evermore.
Amid the soggy sad uncertain rising of the Bush dynastic curtain,
W. teased us -- tried to please us with depths of compassion never heard before;
So that, as we took the beating, there we stood, oft repeating
"So he brings Jesus to the inaugural floor --
And throws abortion rights out the door,
That is it and nothing more."
Presently our stomachs got weaker, watching our craven leaders grow meeker,
"Mr. Ashcroft," said they, "Truly your record we will ignore.
As the truth is we were napping, and so exquisite was your rapping
Let Ronnie White do his yapping, we'll betray the party core!
We may write long protest speeches -- but the job is yours, we can assure,"
Darkness here and nothing more!
Deep into that darkness peering, long we stand here wondering, fearing,
What deals were made behind Feingold's door?
Though his filibuster would not be spoken, only Ted appeared unbroken,
Asking on the Senate floor, "Is anything worth fighting for?"
Quoth the Craven, "Nevermore."
--Thomas K. Lowenstein and Joanna Mareth, 2/1/01
Every Vote down in Voteville liked Voting a Lot,
But the GRINCH, who lived West of Voteville,
did Not.
For Voting was Counting - not just Adding and such
But finding out if you Amounted to Much.
In this case, the question was, who, in a pinch,
Amounted to More? Did the Veep? Or the Grinch?
The Veep! What a creep!
What a CREEP! CREEP! CREEP! CREEP!
He simply could NOT be outdone by the Veep.
But the Veep was Experienced.
He'd done the big jobs,
He was smart. (He was smart-ass.)
He knew all the knobs
And the levers and buttons
that worked the State's Ship
And the Grinch?
Well, re: knowledge he was not too hip.
The President of India? The economy? Pass.
He'd never been close to the head of the class.
So far the poor Grinch hadn't Amounted to zip,
He just hadn't Counted. It gave him the pip.
(His father! His eminent Dad! His own blood!
Compared to him, Grinchy had proved quite a dud.)
And now that he'd actually reached his Big Day
Argh! Counting the Ballots could steal it away!
And what was a Ballot? Was it silver or gold?
Were they counting up treasure? A fortune untold?
No! Just some dumb punch-card!
They were counting up holes!
Oh, the holes! Yes, the holes!
Oh, the HOLES! HOLES! HOLES! HOLES!
The whole thing depended on Circles of Air -
Not to mention the half-holes,
and holes that weren't there,
But that wanted to be there,
and thought that was fair.
All they would do was to add up! To Count!
And they'd count! And they'd count!
And they'd COUNT! COUNT! COUNT! COUNT!
And they'd probably end up with a Quite Wrong Amount!
"If they go on counting,"
the Grinch shuddered, "Eep!"
"They may just wind up electing the Veep!"
"How to stop it?" the Grinch exclaimed with a moan
And then he remembered he wasn't alone.
There were Grinches all over,
big Grinches and small,
There were Grinches in Voteville
and in City Hall,
He knew some news-Grinches,
and he could depend
On these inky fellows to shape and to bend
Their stories to help him win through in the end.
But the Grinches who'd give him
the edge and the win
Were the great Legal Grinches,
and Grinches of Spin.
So he called on his cohorts.
"My friends, we must Grinch
This election! 'Nuff Counting!
Get to work! Do not flinch!
We must Grinch! We must Grinch!
We must GRINCH! GRINCH! GRINCH! GRINCH!
We cannot be beaten by circles of air
Or circles that only imagine they're there.
Every day that they Count them, the total will creep
Up and up, until it elects that old Veep!"
So they Grinched the election.
They Grinched, day by day,
Until all the options were whittled away.
They Grinched it with lawyers,
they Grinched it with writs,
They split all the hairs
and they picked all the nits,
And when it came up to the Ultimate Bench
They Grinched it away with one final Wrench.
They ordered all Voteville to give up its Count,
Before it came up with that Quite Wrong Amount.
And the Votes down in Voteville?
They've run out of steam.
'Tis the season to party, to heal and to dream.
Why worry? The Constitution is strong,
The judges who judge it can never be wrong,
The Veep may have won, but he's lost.
And that's that.
Voteville accepts the high judges' fiat.
There isn't a holler, there isn't a scream,
Think of the dollar! Let's play for the team!
So everyone okays the Grinch's régime,
And things are probably
probably
probably
probably
probably
Not as bad as they seem.
"Four whole years of Grinchdom!"
the Grinch cries with glee
"There's Only One Person who Counts now
...That's
ME." --(c)2000 Salman Rushdie, 1/4/01
In the middle of D.C. where the dubya-bush grows
and the protestors still camp in the streets by the rows
and nobody is happy 'cept crude CEOs . . .
is the Street of the Gifted Gorax.
And deep in the pundit-spoor, some people say,
if you listen real hard you can still hear, today,
what the Gorax had pleaded
and the public had needed
before all of them drove the poor Gorax away.
Who was the Gorax?
And why was he there?
And why was he driven and taken somewhere
from the end of D.C. where the dubya-bush grows?
Old Cheney still lives there.
Ask him. He knows.
You won't see Dick Cheney.
There's no use to knock.
He's down at the White House
where he stares at the clock
and he curses the day
when he told someone's Pop --
I'm the only Republican who's fit for the job
of watchin' yer boy so he cannot screw up.
But when Dick finally answers
the cell phone he hides,
his voice'll sound gaspy
as he quietly confides:
"The kid's dumb as a drum,
as sharp as hard-tack.
He still drinks AND he drives.
He spends days in the sack.
And to make matters worse,
even when they're at home,
he and that Laura won't answer their phone!
So I sit here and tend things most days all alone.
Now the Nation is crumbling.
The markets have crashed.
The folks are all rioting
and smoking their crack.
I can't summon the Army
to mount an attack,
'cause the General finally
figured out that he's Black!
Paybacks should have gone smoother --
for throwing the race,
but those uppity voters
forgot their low place.
Kathy Harris got shipped by banana boat
. . . somewhere,
with her molars clenched tight,
lest she'd say something fair.
Our allies all hate us and won't pay their share!
Unlike Old Mother Hubbard,
our Cabinet is bare
'cause too many bones were secreted in there.
John Ashcroft gave a Crisco party,
but couldn't love his neighbor;
heads called him a zealot
who worshipped a slaver.
I'm the 'Appointee of Justice' now
. . . and Interior
. . . and Labor.
The Capitol's still crawling with red-necks and Gators
and lots of those left-over buddies of Nader's.
But there's no help for ME!
My maid's always tardy.
There's not one decent typist in this G.D. whole Party!
Now I want to return to Texas and my home in . . .
er, what I meant to say was, 'Wyomin'.'
I want to go home!
I'm ill and not young.
And I'm out of those pills that go under my tongue.
The words that you left us . . . JUST COUNT . . .
ring like thunder.
Like tinnitus,
they bite us,
and keep us from slumber.
Oh, please, Mr. Gorax, we feel awful bad.
We know you won Florida.
You can ask Georgie's Dad!
You won Broward
and Palm Beach,
Miami-Dade too.
We found chads up in Seminole
punched out in Jeb's shoe.
Oh sure, you were boring, too smart and uptight.
You sighed way too much and were ready to fight.
But Gorax, we need you! Turns out you were right!
MORE THAN HALF of the ballots were for you that night!
And the rest of the voters are ready to fold,
Just buy them a shot and a beer that is cold.
They'll love you! You'll see!
All they want is a guy
who can throw back a brewski,
shout "Mud in your eye!"
You know it's all true,
and it's your obligation --
For the sake of our children,
for the sake of the Nation,
Oh Gorax, please help us!
Oh what can we do?!
If you'll come back to Washington
We'll be nice to you.
We'll make Trent shut his trap
. . . as for Hatch and Delay,
well, the heck with them both,
we'll just send them away!
We'll give you the White House
We'll increase your wages.
And Tipper can head up the United Nations!
Or 'Senator Gore' of Utah or Maine!
You just say the word, boss,
she'll be in the game!
Oh Gorax, please come back and give us good news!
Speak for the trees, or whomever you choose!
Even speak for the Gays! Speak all the great truths!
God Bless America!
God Bless the Jews!
If you'll help us out now, Al,
why, here's what we'll do . . .
We'll make you the President in 2002!
And in 2004, we'll be right up to date,
You can stick around longer . . . say, 2008!"
© 2001 by Clarity Penn
( from The Lorax by Dr. Seuss
Updated version - 01/12/01)
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