Ode To Hilary

(with apologies to TOTO)

I did a fair job in the Cabinet
If you leave Benghazi out of the mix
we didn’t make make or lose any friends
My husband’s been a good boy lately
I poll real high, my stars are right, next year my long wait will end

It’s my time, I’ve spent enough years in line
It’s my time, by rights the big job is mine

The left is suspicious of me yeah
the right hates my very guts, ooh
the middle waffled, then settled upon me
Heck,they’d opt for a poodle sooner than they’d vote GOP

It’s my time, I’ve spent enough time in line
It’s my time, that anointed head is mine

No e-mail scandal can stop me
the electorate’s memory is too short
no one other Dem will dare to try me
My backers are flush and my donor list is too big
Liz Warren and Joe Biden will just have to wait for their turns

The office is mine, it’s just a matter of time
don’t cut line, I’m only getting what’s mine

They’ve Given You A Tumbler, Now You Can’t Recall Your Name


To these men, Obama is no stranger
they keep him and his kin away from danger
At protecting and serving, they’re first
Unless a raging thirst
gives them a buzz that lasts until tomorrow

Secret Service men
Secret Service men
You’re supposed to watch our leader, not two mud-wrestling dames

While Barack was diplomatting in Colombia,
You had two gals doing the sideways Cumbia
The peace talks were nearly doomed
’cause you stole the towels from the room
You’re lucky that you weren’t transferred to Gitmo

Secret Service Man
Secret Service Man
You lose sensitive phones, you can’t even stop a drone

Drinking is not advised while you’re on duty
Nor are lewd memos re: Michelle’s booty
You hid bloodshot eyes with shades
And then you rammed the barricades
You can’t catch a jogger, how could you stop a terrorist?

Secret service man…. (fade)

Department Store Substitute Santa

An Xmas Ditty

I’m a substitute department-store Santa, I work maybe once a week
I got a loose glass eye, bent-up nose and a swastika on my cheek
Though stores don’t like to hire me, sometimes they have no choice
When they’re lacking in jolly fat men to delight the girls and boys

My working record is spotty, my agent said this Yule
I’m nearly always the last chosen in any Santa pool
Santa’s only human, I said, ain’t he allowed to drool?
I wouldn’t have worked a day this year if not for the Asian flu

In the pantheons of Santas, I don’t rank among the best
I’m missing two front teeth, but I know where I lost the rest
The kids get to hear when I take a break how bad I gotta pee
booze on my breath, more on my suit, that funny smell is me

So, if you happen to need a Santa, for a party you may throw,
check the personals, under bridges, benches on side roads
leave a name and number, and l will return the call
unless I still got some money, or a bottle of alcohol

If Any State Were To Do This, It Would Be……


(Tallahassee, Florida)- In a ceremony held on the steps of the state Capitol, Governor Scott today signed into law a bill known as the “Honest Mistake” bill, which protects anyone who hurts, maims, or kills another person or persons, because of a sincere belief that said person or persons meant the attacker harm. The bill reads, in part, “No one shall be indicted, arrested, nor otherwise face any penalty, legal or civil, for causing injury, fear, or death upon another, if said other person has been perceived to be a….. threat, even if the perception was false, if said perception was arrived at on the basis of the best information available at the timeof the…. incident.”

“Dang! This don’t come soon enough for me!”, Says Danny “blindbat’ Sargent, of Opa-Locka, who had been charged with 2nd degree murder of his neighbor as he was raking leaves near the property line the two shared. Sargent, who was outside feeding his hunting dogs, saw his neighbor Hank Tankeray, making odd motions with his hands. “I seen what looked like a rifle in his hands. I couldn’t see the rake end, ’cause my view was blocked by my wife’s car. I dint have no time to wait and see if it really was a gun, or why Hank wanted me dead, I did what I had to do. I got two kids still livin’ at home, and their young’uns, too. You’da done the same thing!”

“We did consider the possibility that there might be a bump in the homicide statistics,” Said Taylor County Sheriff Bud “bud” Budgerigar, “but they would fall in the “cleared” category, thus not boosting our stats negatively.”

Others aren’t so sure. “I’m not sure, said Sam Freleng (D), one of a handful who opposed the bill. “what if a kid playfully points his finger like it was a gun,” at which point the Representative demonstrated the activity, and its getting dark, and someone….”

At that moment, a man who had been watching the interview yelled. He’s got a gun!” and fired his own weapon, A blue-metaled Sig Sauer with a 12-round clip and modified trigger mechanism, ( Continued on page 7)



“I’m finding another manager when I get back to the States”, Lou said to himself as yet another gig on this tour of the Outback found him in front of yet another unsophisticated, loutish, and hard-drinking crowd of Australian farmers, station-hands, and railroad workers. Topical American jokes were wasted on them, satire was an alien concept. The only laughs he got, in fact, were his animal impressions which, in spite of their success , Lou hated doing, preferring to perform edgier material.
And he was doing just that, Lou was in the middle of a shtick about Spam being the canned remains of over-populated pounds, when the biggest, roughest, lout in the bar stood up and shouted…”‘nough o’ this balder, mate, let’s see a wallabee!”
“I don’t Wallaby, mate!” Lou answered sarcastically.
The roughneck was drunk enough to miss the tone of voice, but not the gist of the reply.
“Well, then, Kangaroo instead! Red, Grey, Eastern, whatever, just do it or,..”
“I don’t Kangaroo, either, I don’t Platypus, I don’t freaking Dingo!”, Lou was getting irked, but then he saw the guy pull his knife. He softened his tone and pleaded with the angry drunk.
“Look, fella, I’ve never done a kangaroo, I wouldn’t do it justice. Whaddya say I imitate a large wading bird for you good people? That is one my better impressions.” And Lou started to lift one leg and pop his head forward, but suddenly found a knife pressed to his throat.
The Aussie’s menacing grin filled Lou’s vision as he spoke words that chilled the impressionist’s heart.
“You’re going to ‘Roo this day, mate, or it’s a day that you won’t live to egret!.”

SHORT, STUBBY TALES, pt 2 (or 3, who’s counting, much less reading?)

The other vendors and I were happy to have the old Mexican and his trained birds participate in this year’s event; he wasn’t competing for the public’s food dollar, nor with the stands that mainly sold Chinese-manufactured trinkets that announced themselves as authentic. In addition, the antics of his feathered employees drew potential customers our way.

However, I found it odd, the favoritism he seemed to show the cockatiel, who between shows sat on a perch under an umbrella, while the toucan sat on the old man’s shoulder, both unprotected from the hot midday sun. The cockatiel was fed sunflower seed and sprigs of millet , while Juan shared his bag of stale peanuts, with the less coddled bird.
I finally had to satisfy my curiousity; one afternoon when my liunchtime business had slacked off, I walked over after the trio had entertained a gaggle of schoolkids on a field trip.
“Sr. Montoya, I notice that you treat the one bird better than you treat yourself, but the other bird, who seems to be just as big a draw, eats the same poor fare as you. Why is that?”
“Cockatiel (he had never gotten around to naming them), has expensive tastes, likes to live well.”
“On other hand”, he continues, “Toucan live as cheaply as Juan.”


The target again approached the bushes where Ito crouched, his black garb blending into the shadows, and again Ito hesitated.
“What if he sees me me, and draws his sword before I strike? Better I should wait until he passes me by then slip up and stab him from behind, Yes! That is what I shall do.”
The figure walked by Ito, oblivious to his presence, and the assassin made to strike….
“What if he hears me?”, Ito thinks, “That is a sharp sword he has, he might be good with it, too… I know!”, Ito says as he digs into a pocket of his shozoku, “I will kill him with a well-thrown star before he re-enters the house, and I have lost my last chance to fulfill my duty.”
Again, he fidgets, adjusts his posture, starts to throw, then brings his arm down to his side, sighing disgustedly, as the one marked for death blithely enters his house and sanctuary.
“I probably would have missed. “Maybe I will get another chance tomorrow, if the weather isn’t bad.”
Such is the drive to prevail to carry out the warlord’s commands , yet only if conditions are just right. Such is the code of the Ninja Worrier


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