For those not on Mrs. CB's flist...

Her frustration with George W Bush and his head in the sand views on the US economy hit a melting pot this morning, so she wrote a little something

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You would cry your eyes out . . .
Mar. 15th, 2008 at 7:03 AM

. . . if you couldn't rant and laugh about it!
I almost screamed! I mean, I feared I would wake up CB. I saw this soundbyte of Bush saying, "Well, the economy is in a bit of trouble."
No really!!!! After years of "The economy is strong." "We are strong." "The U.S. economy is strong." While I watched so many people struggle, and I almost popped a cork.So, I did the constructive thing, and I wrote.
AND I laughed.
And I feel a slight bit better.



. . . and the horse you rode in on!

It was a just a normal midday,
and the sun was riding high
when this Marshall came down our way
with “Pickles” by his side.

His boots were awful dusty,
and his throat was mighty parched.
His tin star was looking rusty
as into the saloon he marched.

He stood there at the barstool,
and he glanced around the space
while he wondered at the quiet
and scratched the whiskers on his face.

Kitty walked out from the backroom
when she heard the swinging doors,
but she wished she’d never done it
when she saw that it was George.

He said he needed whiskey
and some bullets for his gun,
and his horse was getting frisky
‘cause a shoe had come undone.

Kitty bid him take a chair,
and handed Pickles bathtub gin.
She said, “George this may seem unfair,
but I don’t know where to begin.”

“The bankers took my liquor
‘cause I couldn’t pay my loan.
If you’d have shown up quicker
you could have saved my home!”

“We got no bullets to sell ya’
‘cause the cavalry’s sent away
to fight a battle over in Persia.
Which don’t make sense to me, no way.”

“I feel sorry for your steed.
We got nothin’ for your horse
‘cause them ‘shoes come from overseas,
and the blacksmith’s been out-sourced.”

She took the glass from Pickles,
and wiped the sweat off of her brow.
Her neck began to prickle.
She said, “You should leave right now.”

George smiled and put his hat on
told her, “We just have to pray
And believe me, young woman
Tomorrow is another day.”

Kitty, tired from all the bullshit
decided she had had enough.
She said, “You can get down off that pulpit,
and screw yourself because we’re fucked!”

For those not on Mrs. CB's flist...

Her frustration with George W Bush and his head in the sand views on the US economy hit a melting pot this morning, so she wrote a little something

Previous Entry | Next Entry

You would cry your eyes out . . .
Mar. 15th, 2008 at 7:03 AM

. . . if you couldn't rant and laugh about it!
I almost screamed! I mean, I feared I would wake up CB. I saw this soundbyte of Bush saying, "Well, the economy is in a bit of trouble."
No really!!!! After years of "The economy is strong." "We are strong." "The U.S. economy is strong." While I watched so many people struggle, and I almost popped a cork.So, I did the constructive thing, and I wrote.
AND I laughed.
And I feel a slight bit better.



. . . and the horse you rode in on!

It was a just a normal midday,
and the sun was riding high
when this Marshall came down our way
with “Pickles” by his side.

His boots were awful dusty,
and his throat was mighty parched.
His tin star was looking rusty
as into the saloon he marched.

He stood there at the barstool,
and he glanced around the space
while he wondered at the quiet
and scratched the whiskers on his face.

Kitty walked out from the backroom
when she heard the swinging doors,
but she wished she’d never done it
when she saw that it was George.

He said he needed whiskey
and some bullets for his gun,
and his horse was getting frisky
‘cause a shoe had come undone.

Kitty bid him take a chair,
and handed Pickles bathtub gin.
She said, “George this may seem unfair,
but I don’t know where to begin.”

“The bankers took my liquor
‘cause I couldn’t pay my loan.
If you’d have shown up quicker
you could have saved my home!”

“We got no bullets to sell ya’
‘cause the cavalry’s sent away
to fight a battle over in Persia.
Which don’t make sense to me, no way.”

“I feel sorry for your steed.
We got nothin’ for your horse
‘cause them ‘shoes come from overseas,
and the blacksmith’s been out-sourced.”

She took the glass from Pickles,
and wiped the sweat off of her brow.
Her neck began to prickle.
She said, “You should leave right now.”

George smiled and put his hat on
told her, “We just have to pray
And believe me, young woman
Tomorrow is another day.”

Kitty, tired from all the bullshit
decided she had had enough.
She said, “You can get down off that pulpit,
and screw yourself because we’re fucked!”