Controversial Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene has claimed that a mysterious “they” can control the weather after Hurricane Helene killed more than two dozen people in her state and a total of 200 across the US. — The Independent
Hurricanes hitting good Christian States!
Doesn’t God know where we are?
Why always Florida in the storm corridor?
Why doesn’t God target New York?
Those People follow a different theology.
“THE CHOSEN” control our meteorology!
Soldiers captured, wounded, and killed?
Suckers and losers. Incomprehensible!
Heroes are winners imposing their will,
we're the ones who are indispensable.
I have said “’til death do us part”
three times. (That I can recall.)
But I know, deep in my heart,
restrictive pre-nup fixes it all.
My power as president: ABSOLUTE!
At THAT desk I will be resolute.
They say my best — my only — solution:
fuckin' throw out Goddamn Constitution.
(sung to the tune of Jimmy Webb's “All I Know")
I kill you, you kill me
We all kill so easily
I want you to die and so
I kill you, and that’s all I know
Missiles rain like mourning dew
All my bombs I drop on you
I wish you to die and so
I kill you, and that’s all I know
From each bomb bay
it’s bombs away
Bombs and missiles never end
Co-existence? God forefend
All our bombast is for show
I kill you, and that’s all I know
From each bomb bay
it’s bombs away
Shells and missiles bring on false dawn
They tell us God demands we carry on
Shells will fall as in times past,
kill and maim with each great blast
Bigger blasts just go to show
I kill you, and that’s all I know
That’s all I know
That’s all I know
What is the point being wealthy and white
if these qualities don't force open doors?
Our forefathers ruled which gives the right
of precedence over those who sweep floors.
Skin tone alone — sadly wan when not tanned —
shows we are God’s favorites. His chosen.
If we’re first in line, that’s just as He planned.
How dare Liberals stick their damned nose in!?
Equal opportunity? Of course! For us!
The descendants of yesteryear’s winners.
Forever on top, ’twill ever be thus,
’til hell freezes chilling our ancestor sinners.
What do you do when a country’s all done?
What do you do when a Darn Old has won
by spending time selling lies about crime
in his insistent, incontinent whine?
A line borrowed from the pledge we've all said
liberty and justice for all lay ahead,
but Darn Old belongs to the pre-Dylan time
and thinks changin’ back to then is just fine.
We all can foresee the country’s decline
whoever’s in charge, what with changing clime.
There is no answer, no reason, no rhyme.
The only solution is drink much more wine.
We all can foresee the country’s decline
whoever’s in charge, with our fast changing clime.
There is no answer, no reason, no rhyme.
So before we go please, much, much more wine.
Artificial Intelligence?
Use our last kilowatt to run its program,
On the other hand ...
I know only I am that I am.”?
————————
A Deist Conjecture
We human beings. We hapless bastards.
Our feeble species, how have we lasted?
Could our Gods have got themselves plastered?
(Is drinking a thing our Gods never mastered?)
Sobering up, they slipped in their showers?
Busting their heads, losing their powers?
Leaving wee humans to cope all alone?
Are Gods — as are we — accident prone?
