Monday, December 13, 2004
BUDGET HAWK DOWN:
It seems that Kevin Hayden has invited the Blogalaxy (and no, the vacationing skippy did not coin that term!) to enter a poetry contest, using a line from the SecDef which sounds rather Whitmanesque (even though that poet would not be allowed in Don's Crusaders).
One can pray for war each night (as a late friend of mine was instructed in Marine boot camp), yet still follow the fine American tradition of thinking the Pentagon higher-ups wear all those scrambled eggs on their hats just to make their own heads easier to find. Coming from a military family, I have no sympathy for short-changing our far-called legions.
You may sing this to a tune from some old band which seems to do the theme songs for all those "C.S.I." shows. I understand the original was the final song in a so-called "rock opera" of theirs in antediluvian times.
RUMMY:
Welcome to Iraq,
You'll be here for many a year.
My name is Rummy,
And, yes, I shorted you on gear.
If we want to cleanse the world,
We've got to play cheapskate.
So improvise armor,
Send home for kevlar,
And we'll blame it all on Bill.
Hey, troops getting shot, so sorry
You've got no vest.
Taking mortar hits in convoys:
It's for the best.
Purchase orders are known unknowns,
Just like all the rest.
We can't afford to fight the world spending all that cash;
It flunks the global test.
SOLDIERS:
We ain't gonna drive it.
We never would arrive. It
Would our life deprive. It
Won't let us survive it.
We ain't gonna follow,
Either you or your cheap boss.
It's too much to swallow:
Our suits hollow, as you wallow
In contracts, we take the loss.
RUMMY:
Now, you can't phone home;
We won't spring for the dime.
We censor emails
And letters out as well.
You can't say nothing,
So cheapness will rule unchecked.
You go to war with what you have must be
Our budget standard now.
SOLDIERS:
We ain't gonna follow
Such a cheapskate four-eye fink.
Won't be discount soldiers
Just to keep you from red ink.
We will be behind you,
But it's not for what you think.
We are gonna catch you.
When we take you
We will make you
Have a lot of blood to drink.
RUMMY:
Save me.
Free me.
Help me.
**Glugg**choke**
It seems that Kevin Hayden has invited the Blogalaxy (and no, the vacationing skippy did not coin that term!) to enter a poetry contest, using a line from the SecDef which sounds rather Whitmanesque (even though that poet would not be allowed in Don's Crusaders).
One can pray for war each night (as a late friend of mine was instructed in Marine boot camp), yet still follow the fine American tradition of thinking the Pentagon higher-ups wear all those scrambled eggs on their hats just to make their own heads easier to find. Coming from a military family, I have no sympathy for short-changing our far-called legions.
You may sing this to a tune from some old band which seems to do the theme songs for all those "C.S.I." shows. I understand the original was the final song in a so-called "rock opera" of theirs in antediluvian times.
RUMMY:
Welcome to Iraq,
You'll be here for many a year.
My name is Rummy,
And, yes, I shorted you on gear.
If we want to cleanse the world,
We've got to play cheapskate.
So improvise armor,
Send home for kevlar,
And we'll blame it all on Bill.
Hey, troops getting shot, so sorry
You've got no vest.
Taking mortar hits in convoys:
It's for the best.
Purchase orders are known unknowns,
Just like all the rest.
We can't afford to fight the world spending all that cash;
It flunks the global test.
SOLDIERS:
We ain't gonna drive it.
We never would arrive. It
Would our life deprive. It
Won't let us survive it.
We ain't gonna follow,
Either you or your cheap boss.
It's too much to swallow:
Our suits hollow, as you wallow
In contracts, we take the loss.
RUMMY:
Now, you can't phone home;
We won't spring for the dime.
We censor emails
And letters out as well.
You can't say nothing,
So cheapness will rule unchecked.
You go to war with what you have must be
Our budget standard now.
SOLDIERS:
We ain't gonna follow
Such a cheapskate four-eye fink.
Won't be discount soldiers
Just to keep you from red ink.
We will be behind you,
But it's not for what you think.
We are gonna catch you.
When we take you
We will make you
Have a lot of blood to drink.
RUMMY:
Save me.
Free me.
Help me.
**Glugg**choke**
