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The Inaugural Poem That Should Have Been.

The one read at the ceremony was crap, awefull. As much disdain as I have for some of Rush Limbaugh’s political ideas, he did offer an alternative poem that was laugh out loud funny, a perfect foil to the original.

Today there’s a street outside.
On that street are cars.
And in those cars are people with music on their iPods. 
And they listen. 
And the children in the back of the car, who are also on the road,
may or may not be in their child safety seats,
in which case the driver will be arrested and the child taken away. 
When the car gets to its destination, it may run out of gas. 
If it runs out of gas, it’s obviously a gas guzzler,
and if it’s a gas guzzler,
then we need to harness the energy of the sun and punish the SOB driving the gas guzzler. 
If the car gets to its destination with plenty of gas left in the tank,
we give it a bonus of additional markers at Walmart for the day after Christmas,
which is how today was planned. 
And after we go to Walmart and pick up some of the lead paint that is made with our children in mind,
imported from China,
we will then have a meeting with the Iranians,
who will love us,
and they will get in their car,
will also be on their road,
and their road shall never end until they have nuclear weapons.
And when we get to the end of the road,
with the person driving the guzzler,
with the perhaps or not perhaps child safety seats in the back,
we will then know the answer to the question,
which came first, the chicken or the egg?
And why did the egg cross the road to see something better down the road.
But could the egg have crossed the road without the chicken?
These are depth questions.
And only President Obama has the answers.

At one point he says: “I’m sorry. If I can do it, it isn’t art.”.

Rush’s poem was funny, but like the original, it was way too long. I’m a man who worships at the alter of concise prose. Here’s a shorter poem.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
There’s a big effing Depression coming
And we are so screwed.

Compliments of Pogo at Althouse. Well Done!

Here’s mine, from Bush’s perspective:

Dang
It’s done
He’s in
I’m Out
Nu-ceu-ler!