We are going to war against a number of nations in the near future, like it or no, and we might have Osama Barka as our president. If he becomes our commander-in-chief of our military forces, who should he turn to for military advice? Obviously some actor who has great experience in war movies. I mean, of course, Ion.
Maybe I failed too at irony.
I might next try being irenic.
The art of representation. That's what it's all about here. Who represents us? And in the seeing and the re-presentation, who are we really? Go Osama! Lead on. And Send in the Clowns.
Isn't it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground,
You in mid-air.
Send in the clowns.
Isn't it bliss?
Don't you approve?
One who keeps tearing around,
One who can't move.
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors,
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours,
Making my entrance again with my usual flair,
Sure of my lines,
No one is there.
Don't you love farce?
My fault I fear.
I thought that you'd want what I want.
Sorry, my dear.
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns.
Don't bother, they're here.
Isn't it rich?
Isn't it queer,
Losing my timing this late
In my career?
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns.
Well, maybe next year.
This year we have people determined to vote for Osama Barka. Who sent for the clowns?
2 comments:
if you're gonna re-resent the name... O. Hussein da Kanaka, damnit.
I resent it all on my typing tutor, Miss Mavis Davis. It ain't my falut, man. Flaut. Flatu. Oh, I give up. I'll just vote for da man.
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