The farmer's cool, fiery eyes set gaze upon Cindy's smooth, recently-shaven thighs. “Engelbert & Tom Jones harmonize like Lennon & McCartney in that it's difficult to know where one voice begins and the other ends,” said she uncomfortably. The snow fell like salt in a mackerel canning plant. “Hurry,” the farmer hurriedly cautioned, “because our rural tattooed generation abides by the touchstone of their stained lives: doing **** *****.” She knew what that meant and was grateful that he said rural instead of hayseed. Meanwhile, back at the mayor's office young Nancy, the gorgeous Filipina from the classified department, was selling out to fat-cat, caffè Americano-types determined to destroy sleeping arrangements between the grafters of Cebu and the palm-greasers of Davao City. Describing two ages of a woman's life as tender and as ripe isn't respectful on the main island but typical throughout the U.S. empire. “Spoon cubed sugar my way young heifer,” said the man's man customer who wooed chinks like dental trickery remedies front-tooth interstices. Why does a woman, who considers herself a LADY, take offense to being called a ***** even though she named her ***** (her female dog): LADY? [Using wash-rag as a verb: “Did you wash-rag your ***?”; “Yes, I wash-ragged it!”] y [A dumb-*** child asks: “How does a spider **** ants?” An informed adult answers: “He grabs them and then beats the **** out of them!” An informed child asks: “Why does Pepsico use the kidney cells of aborted babies to flavor their beverages?” A dumb-*** adult answers: “Shut up!”]

Along comes a baby
So innocent and pure
No imperfections
Or problems to cure

Now 5 years old
It's time for an education
If your child shows resistance
We'll get them on medication

The government curriculum
That's what you need
Take away your individuality
We'll plant the seed

There's no room for critical thinkers
Not in our schools
We'll all stand together
Ridicule them as fools

What we need is grafters
Just intelligent enough to breathe
50 hour working week
And a job you'll never leave

For this you'll be rewarded
Of course you will
A life full of debt
And a never ending bill

You can retire at 70
We'll give you a pension
Now do as you're told
Or you'll be getting detention

I want to sing songs of peace
But Congress broke its leash
And some nasty snarling curses
With their eyes on the purses
Of a nation of slothful dummies,
Grafters, liars and rummies
Who either had some con game brewing
Or had no idea what they were doing.

This is the story being written now.
Ask any Republican to show you how
Reagan took away people’s rights
And they give them up without a fight.
If you just paint lies with the USA brush
And the fools bow down in a big rush
To let movie stars and corporate thieves
Tell more lies for the dunces to believe.

It’s a sad story, almost Dickensian
In which America’s men and women
Keep thinking we can stop the madness
And end this national reign of sadness
Begun with Reagan and running until now.
And expecting the GOP to show them how.
The GOP subjects them to more slapping.
The fools don’t see, relief will not happen.

It hurts the soul to see this horrific fate
Threatens to take down our fine old state.
“We need no foreign enemies,” some cried.
“Our downfall is coming from deep inside.”
Still some stupid voters with little sense
Keep pointing to Chump and to Pence.
There are still a few human rights to burn
By a voting block that never really learns.