The Bible’s my number-one favorite

I read it each day and I savor it

Even if sometimes it’s slow.


And God’s unbelievable!

All things are achievable

With faith, and without Mexico.


And Jesus: the guy is fantastic!

He heals every dummy and spastic

Takes water and makes it Bordeaux.


The Bible’s amazing!

The language! The phrasing!

I wrote it, so I ought to know.

Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses here illegally:

I’ll throw them right back out the Golden Door

And drop their anchor babies in the sea.

America’s in trouble ‘cause it coddles

All the criminales in the mondo

We should only let in fashion models

And folks who can afford to buy a condo.

Good fences make–you know the rest,

As Fox News has reported–

Good neighbors. And the one that’s best

Is the neighbor who’s deported.

Kick out every thug and desperado

I’m all about America: The Brand!

I wouldn’t even eat an avocado

If it came across the Rio Grande

So vote for me to make this country great again!

Kick all those loser countries in the balls!

Greatness has to start with fear and hate, and then,

We can all be safe inside our walls.

As the marsh hen builds on the watery sod

I will build me a nest on the greatness of God:

A bungalow, saltbox, or maybe Cape Cod,

If I get a mortgage approved under Dodd-


Let me thank

God in advance,

For any advice he can give on finance,

And for the patience, the strength and endurance

To deal with the taxes and flood-zone insurance

And trust in his goodness to keep far away

The waters of Long Island Sound and the bay

Deer ticks, mosquitoes and all insect vectors

Of Lyme disease, West Nile and other infectors

And hope he will reach down and throttle my throat

If I even think about buying a boat.

Ten men in suits all in a line, a bunch, a crowd, a clump

Standing side by side and cheek by jowl and rump to rump

Preparing for the hoops through which Fox News will make them jump.

And who will be the winner? I really wish I knew.

They’re sharpening the talking points they practiced on the stump

Obama is a socialist, and Hillary’s a frump

And all of their opponents are as dumb as Forrest Gump

And poor and short and fat and ugly too.

And one will get the trophy and the reputation bump

While all the others slink and sulk, their polling numberds slump

Nine of them are losers when the winner plays his trump.

Can anyone out there predict who’s who?

“Did Frederick Douglas give up when he was fighting against slavery?”–Brian Brown, president of the National Organization for Marriage, calling for continued resistance to same-sex marriage at the Family Leadership Summit in Ames, Iowa.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

He’s pissed off that commandments in the Bible are ignored

He’s coming down from Heaven in a 1950s Ford.

His Truth is marching on.


I have heard Him on the radio, on Limbaugh and Glenn Beck

His righteous judgment falls on gays who hold hands or who neck

He’s calling us to join Him and send Huckabee a check.


Render unto Caesar, ‘cause his face is on the coin.

But Jesus makes the rules in Cedar Rapids and Des Moines.

Whom God has put asunder let no man try to join.

Bristol Palin, 24, who was paid more than $250,000 as a spokeswoman for abstinence education, announced she is pregnant. Palin, the daughter of Sarah Palin, gave birth to a son when she was in high school.  She has never been married.

The body is sacred and holy

So I’ve been taught to believe

Abstinence works, although slowly,

If you don’t want to conceive.


God doesn’t hold with impurity

He made contraception complex

To show that the only security

Is just saying no-no to sex.


Abstinence only avails you

I read it here on Wikipedia

And Mom says if it ever fails you

It must be the fault of the media.


Sometimes it takes years of trying

The days stretching out to infinity

But one day, before I am dying,

I hope I can master virginity.

NOW, THEREFORE, I, Robert McDonnell, do hereby recognize April 2010 as CONFEDERATE HISTORY MONTH in our COMMONWEALTH OF VIRGINIA, and I call this observance to the attention of all our
citizens—Proclamation by Virginia Gov. Bob McDonnell.

Now I don’t know what country Bob McDonnell thinks he’s from.
The one that I was born in fought, in 1861,
A war for its survival, when Virginia tried to bolt.
And only barely won it, thanks to Grant and Samuel Colt.

I’m sure that Bob McDonnell is a patriotic sort
Who wouldn’t ever be accused of wanting to consort
With enemies who hate us and our sacred way of living
No terrorist should count on Bob McDonnell for forgiving.
Except, of course, for those who fought, away back in the day
In service of secession and against the USA.

Now I’m not one for waving flags, but can we set some ground rules?
It isn’t love of country that’s the last refuge of scoundrels.

It’s sentimental longing for a mythic past of bravery
(Careful to avoid the part that has to do with slavery.)
And those who don’t remember what their history has taught

Are out of luck, but better off than those forever caught
In daydreams of a long-lost world, with solemn invocations
Of ante-bellum life among the planters and plantations.

In New York where I come from we don’t cotton up to traitors
They get overcharged in restaurants and patronized by waiters
We shove them in the subways, elbow them in elevators
And drop them in the sewers to be eaten by the gators.

We’re patriot progressives, Yankee Doodle city slickers
And if we had a pickup truck, the bumpers would have stickers
With rifles, flags and Uncle Sam, and a Day-Glo “U.S.A.:
You Love It or You Leave It or Let’s Talk It Out, Okay?”

But I guess the rules are different where the kudzu casts its shade
And fighting your own countrymen can get you a parade
But all the rebel statuary doesn’t change the score:
Virginia, there’s no Santa Claus.  The South has lost the war.

Hi there, folks, I’m Donald, but call me Mr. Trump

I’m sorry but I have to say your living room’s a dump.

I’ve never seen a place so filled with sad pathetic losers

I’m sure you’d rather move away, but beggars can’t be choosers.

So I come in all humility, to ask you for your vote

And show you these nice pictures of my airplane and my boat.

And thank you all for coming here to listen to my pitch:

I’m really, really, really, really, really, really rich.

I say this not to boast or brag, but I’m a trillionaire.

I am the biggest TV star that ever went on air.

More popular than Churchill, and smarter than Voltaire.

And just in case you’re wondering, this really is my hair.

In government, like real estate, and jewelry, shirts and ties

The Trump brand stands for quality, a name that signifies

You’re going with a winner and you’d like a better life

A Rolex and a limo and a sexy young third wife.

And as for the Islamic State, I have a secret plan

To put them out of business, because I’m a businessman.

And I’ll stand up to China, North Korea and Iran

Italy and Canada, Australia and Japan!

I promise that as president, I’d keep out all Latinos

Except the ones who change the sheets and vacuum my casinos.

And so I’d like to thank you all, and trust you’ll understand

You’re not the kind of people I’d allow to shake my hand.

“I’m saying, what should the pope use his moral authority for?” Santorum asked. “I think there are more pressing problems confronting the earth than climate change.”


The issues facing man today are numerous and varied

But when it comes to climate change, let’s not all get carried

Away. It’s more important stopping gays from getting married.


The liberals blow hurricanes up out of all proportion

And science is another word for media distortion

The Earth is not worth saving, only babies from abortion.


Jesus didn’t come to Earth to save the polar bear.

He came to save mankind from sin, and from Obamacare.

And all endangered species aren’t worth one billionaire.


So if the end is coming, then look into your soul

God doesn’t want no sinners who support the War on Coal

And if the sea is rising, it’s God who has our backs

He alone can save us, and not a carbon tax.


His mercy droppeth from the sky, like petals from a flower.

He calls each man to Heaven, though we knoweth not the hour.

But the road that leads to Hell is lit by solar power.


Seymour Hersh, the Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist who revealed the My Lai massacre during the Vietnam War and helped expose the Abu Ghraib prisoner abuse scandal during the Iraq War, wrote in a bombshell article published Sunday that the Obama administration lied about details surrounding the Navy SEALs raid that killed Osama bin Laden.–Huffington Post

In the sky, a fleet of drones,

Controlled from inside Skull and Bones

Flew across the Afghan border.

The air force of the New World Order,

Official language: Esperanto,

Bought and paid for by Monsanto,

Fronting for the Ford Foundation,

To hide the truth on vaccination

Backed with bonds from Morgan Stanley.

Obama, trying to seem manly,

Greenlighted the CIA

Hand in hand with Opus Dei,

To take out the ayatollah

With missiles loaded with ebola

And plans inside a secret folder

To destroy – with Eric Holder

Standing by as an observer–

The State Department’s email server.


Osama lying in his bed

Heard the choppers overhead

Captive of his own mystique

Went to take a Wikileak.

Or was he spotted on a stroll

Somewhere on the Grassy Knoll?

Asking truckers, Going my way

On the NAFTA Superhighway?

What happened to him wasn’t pretty.

Howard Hunt and Gordon Liddy

Did it with polonium.

He’s buried in Area 51.