A poem (sort of): Gung-Ho Newt

I was driving to work, listening to my favorite right-wing hate-speech radio station, when the subject of Newt Gingrich came up. The interviewee’s breathless enthusiasm was, well, alarming. Has all the trouble the Republican’s have gone through lately really come to this? William F. Buckley once said that he wrote so often because the world infuriated him three times a week. As is often the case, the most alarming news is also the most inspirational. And so, with apologies to the late, great Rudyard Kipling, and the creator’s of Mad Magazine, wherever they are…

Gung-Ho Newt

In the world that is online
Where I spend all my free time,
Seein’ what an’ where an’ when, an’ then who done it.
In debates amongst the pol’s
Commented on by trolls;
My only solace found wi’ Vodkapundit.
In the TEA where I resided
All the anger has subsided,
We once talked o’ party elders an’ the boot.
Since Herman, Rick, Michelle
Had campaigns get blown to Hell,
It seems the only one that’s left is Gung-Ho Newt.
Now it’s Newt! Newt! Newt!
You overbearin’ gasbag Gung-Ho Newt!
Mister Inside’s on the outside;
Please pass the potassium bromide.
Our Republic’s in the hands of Gung-Ho Newt.

Now he’s clearly put on weight
Since that mean red-letter date
When he led Republican’s to revolution.
But when the rank an’ file exploded,
His ideology out-moded;
He underwent philosophic evolution.
On abortion, war, and warming
What ideas could he be forming
‘Fore the next debate or public proclamation?
Once given up for dead,
His ego must be fed,
An’ now he’s done defied all expectation.
Yes it’s Newt! Newt! Newt!
What other institutions did you loot?
Freddie Mac an’ Fannie Mae
Lay in ruin to this day.
Aren’t Historian’s expensive Gung-Ho Newt.

In salon’s wi’ the elite
Wi’ the ladies at his feet;
Champagne Spritzers, world events, and a nice tuxedo.
More wives than Jon and Mitt,
In a corner he should sit
‘Til he digests his 5-year plan an’ his libido
An’ over by the wall
In the form of Doctor Paul
Is a man who understands the Constitution.
Ignored by peers an’ press;
He clearly see’s the mess,
But let’s hear more from one in need of absolution.
More Newt! Newt! Newt!
You slippery, snake-skinned varmint Gung-Ho Newt!
When all finally collapses,
We’ll need not fear our taxes.
In the soup line, there’s the voice of Gung-Ho Newt!