Kind Readers, a thousand pardons for my disappearance over the past few days. Reports of my suicide are slightly exaggerated but if you peer to the left, you see the rocks of Doolin, where I would presumably wash ashore. It is a pleasant place, as I noted, but I plan to stick around. I was overcome by either food poisoning or a stomach flu, but in either case, the need for descriptive words at this time would do no more than unsettle your lunch, so I shall simply ask you to excuse my absence.
Oddly, I started feeling ill while I was in the town of Jim Thorpe, PA, a place that throws a black shadow over Irish-American history – as I was reminded as I passed the ‘Molly McGuires’ Bar’ and the courthouse where the coal miners were prosecuted and sentenced to death. As I clutched my stomach while holding the steering wheel with the other hand, I passed the historic Packer Mansion.
Some Packers had been along on the infamous Donner Party, which lost itself in the Rockies en route to the West Coast one 1880s winter and some members of the group stayed alive by cannabalism, consuming the flesh of their fellow travelers. I had not thought of these facts for some time and when I saw the Packer Mansion, I was reminded of the Donner Party and how I always give my name as ‘Donner’ when making dinner reservations, so that, at some point, my dinner companion and I will be sitting at the bar and hear the Donner Party being summoned. As I lay on the sofa, trying my best not to vomit or lose all control of my stomach, I flipped on the tv for amusement and, Voila!, Christian Slater starring in The Donner Party! What a coincidence!
But that was the other day and this is now. My abdominals are sore from the constant wretching but I feel well enough to blog, so here goes:
The Week Before Xmas
‘Twas the week before Xmas and in the White House
Obama and Gil K were torturing a mouse.
Their consciences hung near the mantel with care
in hopes the pharma-lobby soon would be there
to give them the cash that they love way too much
to spend on the drug war, since ‘enough is enough’.
While they concurred on many mean ways to humble ya’
They smoked phat joints (legal in District of Columbia)
‘We’ll fix those bastards who elected me now.
I am not some servant, not one to be cowed.
Those liberals stink ‘cuz they think they still own me.
I am way above all of that ‘honest’ baloney.
So, if my office has not found enough morons to screw,
we’ll add to the insult and take their K2.”
Gil liked this idea and smiled from within.
He had a game that would make sensible heads spin.
Wait until Xmas Eve and take the Spice from the shelf
and keep it for a year, ruining next Xmas, as well.
The drug war has already cost over a trillion
so who’s going to mind just another hundred million
dollars it takes to waste on a dream
that noone believed, anyway, it seemed.
There are kids without presents and kids without food,
kids with no warm clothes and sick little ones, too!
Why spend the money helping kids like we should?
A new prison in your neighborhood would look mighty good.
The people who smoke pot (known as drug abuse victims)
make us wonder why we take those with problems and kick them?
If these are the victims, then there must be a crime
since victims are prey of the criminal minds
who run this old country which once was a leader
of the whole darned free world but now has seceeded
from logic or forethought or the least care for others
and much prefers prisons where minds rot and thoughts smother.
So off in the sleigh go Ol’ Gil and Obammy
with not even so much as one Xmas salami
instead they took empty bags to be filled
with substances unknown, yet certain to kill.
They laughed at the people, all sleeping below –
– too bad they elected this pathetic freakshow -
“On DEA! On FBI! On Homeland Security!
On ATF Agents,” Gil sneered and drooled luridly.
They flew through the night in taxpayer-owned sleigh,
“We must collect all of the K2 by day, yeah!
Take it from gas station, boutique and bodega.
Take from people who smoke for relief from the cancer
To steady their stomachs, one of life’s second chances.
Take it from kids ‘fore they find it themselves
Take all that we can because we need it ourselves.
It is nice to have medical marijuana in Washington
So we can smoke freely. The lower class – we caution them
About all the evils and deleterious effects
Which makes it legal for Senators but not for rednecks
Who have no address like us Pols in DC,
Which allows us to smoke all we want and stay free
And pass all the laws that take care of ourselves
While the commoners have nothing to smoke with the elves.”
Oh, this was a great plan, well thought out and selfish.
It came from our Gil, who has a brain like a shellfish.
He has admitted the war is a failure,
Yet still signs the papers so the feds can come nail you.
The whole world was watching as the sleigh rode the black,
Wishing it would crash, fingers crossed behind backs.
The president spotted a small store below,
Which gave off an aura, aromatic, that glowed.
“Here’s where we’ll start,” as he pulled on the reigns,
“At this little place,” said our Gil with no brains.
So slowly descending, they lit on the place
Where their heads were blown off – shotgun blasts to the face.
So, now it is snowing, the world looks so fresh.
A soft wind is blowing, two more morons dead.
Had they stayed at home and just minded their business
And let people live and quit making them victims
They would still be alive but the trouble, it seems,
Is that some people don’t view our Bill Of Rights as a dream.
The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized.