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CounterPunch
December
21, 2002
Dubya's Night Before
Christmas
By RON JACOBS
'Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through the land
Every soldier was stirring, down to the last man;
The bombers were ready to take off when they heard
>From Me or Dick Cheney-whoever gave the word.
The inspectors were nestled all
snug in Iraq
After looking for weapons in every falafel shack;
And Laura in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,
When out in the desert there
arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the cell phone I flew like a bird,
Dialed the Pentagon real quick and here's what I heard.
The Iraqis had lied on page ten
thousand and seven
This meant I could call down the bombers from heaven,
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
But a mustached man right in front of me.
His uniform told me, it was all so plain
I knew in a moment it was Saddam Hussein.
More rapid than eagles my coursers
they came,
And I whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
Now, Cheney! Now, Rumsfeld! Now, Perle and Franks!
On, Daschle! On Ashcroft, Poindexter, send tanks!
To the top of the porch! To the war room real quick!
I'm finally gonna get to use my big stick!"
As dry leaves that before the
wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the Pentagon the coursers they flew,
With their fists full of bombs and a war plan, too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard
CNN
Tell the world the Bush's were bombing Baghdad again.
As I raised my fist and gave a quick shout
I heard Saddam Hussein calling me out.
He was dressed in fatigues, from
his head to his foot,
His clothes were all tarnished with depleted uranium soot;
A band of his guards stood all around
"You're toast!" I told him. "I'm taking you down!"
His eyes - they were blazing.
His face it was raging.
His fists were clenched tightly, His anger needed caging!
His poor little country was being bombed once again
Because my daddy and I were big oilmen;
The buildings in Baghdad and
Basra were falling,
And I knew at that moment I had found my true calling;
Osama bin Laden was dangerous but so hard to find,
Iraq is a country and so easy to mine.
Saddam was standing there, a
very angry man
He knew that Iraq would soon be ExxonMobil's land;
We like our cheap oil in the US of A,
And we'll kill anybody who gets in our way;
I knew in the morning that the
protestors would shout,
"End the war now, Get the US out!"
Ashcroft and Ridge would take care of them-
That's what Homeland Security is all about.
I ran to the telephone, my Dad
was on the line
"The bombs look good son, you're doing quite fine."
My mom got on next, she was happy as sin,
"Your daddy's so happy, as long as we win."
Ron Jacobs, with apologies to Clement Moore, Henry
Livingston (or whoever
wrote the original.). He can be reached at: rjacobs@zoo.uvm.edu
Retro?
By STEW ALBERT
Most Americans
think
Bush
has not made his case
for
war.
Some ask why aren't more people
in
the
streets
protesting?
Todd Gitlin
Ellen Goodman
blame the current antiwar movement
for
being
a
retro
60's
retread.
The
60's slogans
are
too
simplistic for now.
>
Saddam is no Ho
and
Americans
(however mistakenly)
blame Saddam
for
9/11.
They
want a movement
with
complex
(if boring)
slogans.
I'm different.
I'm
amazed
that so many are demonstrating
against a war
with
Iraq.
Because the war hasn't started.
Because there is no draft.
Because the climate is so repressive.
Go back
to
1964
when there was a war
when there was a draft
when the country was much more hang loose.
And
you'll find that the largest antiwar demo
was
6,000 strong
in
NYC!
We get more than that in Portland
NOW!
By all means
hurt a tyrant's feelings,
Say Saddam Sucks
Say it loud
but don't run down what we've done
and
don't
tell George Bush
that we
are
pushover
has-been
relics.
He's supposed to be scared
and
cautious
of
the
Vietnam Syndrome.
Remember
that's
us.
Stew Albert hosts Stew
Albert's Yippie Reading Room. He can be reached StewA@aol.com
Museum of Women
By ADAM ENGEL
arena
and all that star gazing
she reached a delicate fix
consumed by genealogy and ice-cream
concupiscent polymath
man on the radio said this is the good life
really terrific we can get together like this
the gun and the typewriter
mechanical genius of the Nation
to learn our lines and tow them
kiss warm arch of ballerina sole
another day at the Museum of
Women
bicentennial under-panties
last year's summer frocks
filched wardrobes of debutantes and crones
cocktail party, Spring of '23
the ones who wore cotton
anticipating the history of women
journals, letters, postcards
Dear Diary: today I mourn the
vanished
photographs of women dressing,
walking, working, loving
what were they thinking, the women
before they went to death
negatives bequeathed to the voyeurs?
lock the museum!
seal away their secret lives!
but even so many men on the street
inventing images of women
once I'm settled I'll send for you, dear
and the children
Adam Engel can be reached at: asengel@attglobal.net
Yesterday's
Features
Sean Carter
The Bush
Rape Story
Why is the Media Ignoring Zippergate 2?
Francis Boyle
What Are
Bush's Intentions Toward Palestine?
David Vest
Meet the
New Southern Strategy
Same as the Old Southern Strategy
Sayed Moustafa Al-qazwini
Will Bush Betray Iraqis Once Again?
Mahbubul Karin (Sohel)
Is This
Really Happening?
Mass Arrests of Muslim and Jewish Immigrants
CounterPunch Available Exclusively
to Subscribers:
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The Persecution of Gershon Legman by Susan Davis: Smut, the Post Office, Commies
and the FBI;
- Reeling Democrats: Is Pelosi the Answer?
- Gandhi v. Hitler: the Secret Race for the Nobel
Prize;
- Sullying Mario Savio's
Memory;
- Lynching Then and Now;
- Earn While You Learn: Chris Whittle and Child Labor;
The Case of the Pompous
Professor;
- The Class Struggle in
Boston: All that
Effort, But What Did They Get?
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