Rendering Political Service

Absurdity and politics go together so well, and this political season is no exception. Even when the candidate is not the one you support, you hate to see stupidity be the thing that brings him down, especially when the issues should be enough to do him in. Therefore, in reaction to a political absurdity, the parody department has put together this politcally absurd poem based on the "Cremation of Sam McGee":

"The Selection of Dems' Nominee," by Dminor and Cminor
with apologies to Robert W. Service


There are strange things done on the bandwagon
of the folks who would be Prez.
The campaign trails have their secret tales
candidates won't confess.
The camera lights have seen queer sights,
but the one that makes me insane
Is the fuss that is made by a fools' parade
o'er the middle name "Hussein."


Now Barack O, as candidates go,
was different than most.
Just in his first term, he felt an urge burn
to be the White House host.
From Illinois on to Washington,
in a Senator's seat
Through procedure votes and dull anecdotes
he felt ambition's heat.

He was young: two score and six, and no more;
a handsome, smiling face
And a manner that would knock 'em flat
should anyone mention race.
His politics were liberal for sure,
Democratic left-wing.
All the leftist blogs and bandwidth hogs
his praises would loudly sing.

But another sought that for which he fought,
a challenge so weighty.
The White House she made, in the last decade,
her home as Bill's first lady.
It was destiny, for her, thought she,
and so she would do her worst.
"And when I am done and November's won
I will be quite a first!"

So through primary and state caucus she
battled him tooth and claw.
Super Tuesday's vote, the pundits all wrote
resulted in a draw.
Republicans had their man and were glad
(except for 'Cons like Coulter),
But in March the Dems were at loose ends
with Barack the edge holder.

A trick was needed, victory speeded.
November was in sight!
To play on a fear might just save the year
if it comes from the right.
Candidates have got their own weak spot,
a trump they don't want played.
The one who found that; pulled it from a hat
would find she had it made.

And so a big fuss was laid out for us
over his parents' taste
In giving a name of Muslim fame
to a kid with whom they were graced.
So policy flaws are ignored because
trivia rules the day.
The prize much sought may never be caught.
Pettiness steals it away.


There are strange things done on the bandwagon
of the folks who would be Prez.
The campaign trails have their secret tales
candidates won't confess.
The camera lights have seen queer sights,
but the one that gives me pain
Is the abject fright of pundits Right
of the middle name "Hussein."