Defused Lethal Al Gore Poem Released by Government
Omaha, Nebraska: December 31, 2010 The Reformed Senate Select Committee to Investigate the Mass Progressive Suicides (CIMPS) of December 2009 today released its findings on the tragedy.
CIMPS’ summary concludes:
Late last year a virulent poem created by Al Gore decimated the Progressive Movement of the United States when 98% of its membership committed suicide after reading it. Contrary to rumors of a putsch by the Conservative Revolutionary Front, it is the finding of the emergency U.S. government in Omaha that it was not LSD in the water supply of Washington, the Upper West Side, and vast portions of Hollywood, San Francisco, and 1300 Pennsylvania Avenue that precipitated the near extinction of American progressives. Neither was it a conspiracy of global oil interests headed by defrocked members of the KGB. The deaths are attributable to the deranged act of a lone poet.
“Many thought the progressive die-off of last December was the act of foreign terrorists. This was understandable in view of the devastation and elation, but wrong. On the contrary,” President-Select Sarah Palin announced today on her “That’s Mrs. President to You” Facebook page, “our investigation has discovered that all those progressives whose bodies could be identified once the Hazmat teams had secured the afflicted areas were found clutching copies of a poem by Al Gore.”
Dubbed “the deadliest poem since Barney Frank’s unpublished collection of erotic haiku, Basement Boys, was ruthlessly suppressed in the 1990s,” President-Select Palin assured the public that if one had normal American sensibilities the poem had been rendered safe to read as long as “at least three hours have passed since your last meal.”
Independent Confirmation Postponed
It was hoped that the Associated Press would be able to fact-check Gore’s “verse” for residual embedded lethality, but premature exposure to the lines without protection left that organization devastated as nearly 99% of the progressively minded staff succumbed to its powers even after detoxification.
Following federal guidelines in the use of protective reading Kindle filters, your PJM-certified reporter has examined a detoxed version of the deadly verse. Following that he is able to bring you this close structural examination of its lethal elements. For your protection, the Gore opus has been fully disassembled, flayed, and fisked on a line by line basis.
Still, if you harbor any faint progressive tendencies, it’s best you “just say no” lest you decide, as many progressives did after reading it during those tragic days of last December, to “just kill myself.”
WARNING: Under no circumstances consider reassembling the deadly verse.
Al Gore’s “P.O.E.M.” With the Safety On
One thin September soon
[Here Gore strikes the bardic lute sounding his "barbaric yawp" for a greater commitment to his Rush Limbaugh crash diet, and at the same time introducing the "oon" rhyme in case "moon, June, croon, spoon" should be needed at a later moment. Forewarned, short-armed, etc.]
A floating continent disappears
[Here the poet performs his first blatant literary theft by purloining a key concept from the Welsh Poet Donovan's early LSD period masterwork, Atlantis, but wisely eschews Donovan’s dubious "Way down below the ocean" motif.]
In midnight sun
[Identifying with the Inuit (aka Eskimos), Gore evokes the image of dark on darker dark at its darkest. While it may be said that Milton's "darkness visible" beats this trope in terms of concision, Milton falls short by failing to allude to the diversity of life which Gore was known to have kept in the sub-basement of his Nashville home (The location for the "Bring out the gimp!" scene in Pulp Fiction.)]
Absolutely hilarious!I am going to send emails too all my Progressive friends and ask them to come here, read the poem, it it’s reassembled form as I did, (I’m immune being a good conservative), and to then act accordingly!! I am still LOL!
It’s always best to start and end the day with a good laugh. They haven’t figured out a way to tax that yet.
We can only wish that these losers would eliminate themselves. . .
If only Al would stand at the stone, crying loudly, “McKuen, come forth” we might hear this poem gravel voiced, of polar bears choking on seal femurs.
Only surpassed by your masterful art review of a certain photographer. Just brilliant stuff.
Please, Sarah Palin, when you are president, name Gerard as our Poet Laureate.
Mr. Van der leun has treated the subject and the odious villian, whose poisonous breath brought his legions to an untimely end, with decent solemnity. Bravo! Long live Gerard, our beloved bard!
Is “written” the right word for Gore’s poem? Most of the lines seem to have been generated independently.
He’s already won a Nobel peace prize. How can the committee possibly deny him one for literature?
Mayhap he will win the Putzer Prize for Litratcher, instead, Bob.
How in the heck did this creep win the popular vote in 2000? Other than John Kerry, I cannot think of anyone in public life any less endearing than Al Gore. He is pompous, insecure, completely devoid of humor, condescending, bitter, hypocritical, intolerant, effeminate, whiny, prone to hissy fits, afraid of confrontation, never answers questions, surrounds himself with sycophants, needs someone to dress him like an “alpha male”, he is a slumlord, swindler, fearmonger, liar, , hysterical, elitist snob.
There once was a poet named Gore
Whose rear was as wide as a door
So great was his gas
He could not pay the tax
And from then on baked beans he foreswore
(OK just to get things started
Spindok
#7
Yes. For this we have people like William Carlos Williams and Billy Collins to thank. Since essentials like meter and rhyme have been largely eliminated from the tool-kits of present day authors, any even marginally literate sap can write so-called poems (prose pieces chopped up to look like poems really), win formerly esteemed prizes, and even become the poet laureate of the U.S. I bet Al Gore is a big, big Billy Collins fan.
Great job Gerard!
“When poets say, ‘I’ve written fifty rhymes,’
They make you dread that they’ll recite them too.”
Writing poetry is a natural human activity, something we all feel the impulse to do at one time or another. But most of us have the sense to keep our poems to ourselves.
Poems are like the private parts of the mind. The average person knows just how silly he’d look parading his before the general public. Celebrities, on the other hand…
Kate: laughter increases respiration, thus increasing carbon-dioxide output. So perhaps they’re trying to find a way to tax laughter after all (and “thingy”, too). And if the poem causes laughter, and laughter increases carbon-dioxide output, is the poem bad for the environment?
I think an environmental-impact study is needed.
Mentula conatur Pipleium scandere montem.
Musae furcillis praecipitem eiciunt.
Prickface tries to scale the heights of poetry.
With pitchforks the Muses poke him back down on his ass.
C. Valerius Catullus, 84-54 B.C.E.
http://www.demosnews.com/piece.php?115.1
“He Lied to us!! He played on our fears!!!” put that one to music…
My my how karma has her way with us….
OK Spindok:
Whatever happens will be armageddon,
I decided one day: that’s what I’m bettin.
The climate was cooling, the fish were still swimming,
How can I continue fleecing the lemmings?
I’ll change the danger that I’ve been warning
To Climate Change, not Global Warming!
With hurricane Katrina and hurricane Ike,
Everyone could see my uncanny foresight.
For who but a leader named Al Gore
is destined to make up an AlGorithm
And establish upon it a new religion?
No matter if CO2 makes plants thrive,
I call it a poison that threatens our lives.
I’ll sell carbon credits as the guilt antidote
Like indulgences were once sold by the Pope.
But what if some scientists say I’m a dope?
No need to argue, it’s all been settled.
They will be shunned, their theories muzzled.
How could a nature program possibly end
without preaching the doom mankind portends?
There’s too much money to be made by my friends.
I treat Mr. Gore’s opus as a damaged MS and reconstructed it to what it could have been before he edited or damaged it. My interpolations (based on the firm science of forensic palæography mixed with a little dendrochronology) turn
One thin September soon
a floating continent disappears
in visions of the midnight sun
into
One thin September soon (that’s gibberish, I know).
a floating incontinent fat man disappears
in visions of the midnight sun with lots of snow.
and
The shepherd cries
The hour of choosing has arrived
here are your tools
becomes
The shepherd cries, “Hey, voters are deluded fools!
The hour of choosing a global hoax has arrived!
I give you man-made warming; here, then, are your tools!”
More poems!
Thank you Gerard van der Leun for one of best satire pieces I have read in recent days and for what follows by posters here.
I was long ago wisely discouraged from any sort of creative writing by my masters at the University. I cannot remember the professorial language for “you suck at this, do something else”. I would have been happy with that but they said it better. That kindly way of saying “you have no future in this department – now go away”.
We have many creative people here at Pajamas Media.
Fire at will!
Spindok
Ah, the light touch of right-wing humor. Jon Stewart doesn’t stand a chance (but hold on to your day job just in case, Gerard).
Dear 2. Kate
Make that two things, for:
There once was a lady of fashion
Who jumped into bed ripe with passion
And said, “Come on, Joe
Let’s have a go ….
That’s one thing the bast**ds can’t ration!
uta yomi wa
heta koso yokere
ametsuchi no
ugokidashite wa
tamaru mono ka wa
a poem is
better off clumsy
the power to move
heaven and earth
is too hot to handle
Yadoya no Meshimori, 1753 – 1830
ROFLMAO!!!
“Do you feel like suicide? (I think you should.)”
~ Queen (Freddie Mercury), “Death on Two Legs (Dedicated to…)”
Lyrics:
“Aah
You suck my blood like a leech
You break the law and you preach
Screw my brain till it hurts
You’ve taken all my money – and you want more
Misguided old mule
With your pigheaded rules
With your narrow-minded cronies who are fools
Of the first division
Death on two legs
You’re tearing me apart
Death on two legs
You never had a heart of your own
Kill joy, bad guy
Big talking, small fry
You’re just an old barrow-boy
Have you found a new toy to replace me
Can you face me
But now you can kiss my ass goodbye
Feel good, are you satisfied ?
Do you feel like suicide (I think you should)
Is your conscience all right
Does it plague you at night
Do you feel good – feel good
Aah
Talk like a big business tycoon
But you’re just a hot-air balloon
So no one gives you a damn
You’re just an overgrown school-boy
Let me tan your hide
A dog with disease
You’re the king of the ‘sleaze’
Put your money where your mouth is Mr. know all
Was the fin on your back part of the deal…(a shark!)
Death on two legs
Tearing me apart
Death on two legs
You’ve never had a heart of your own
(You never did, right from the start)
Insane, you should be put inside
You’re a sewer-rat decaying in a cesspool of pride
Should be made unemployed
Make yourself null-and-void
Make me feel good
I feel good”
Oops. You can click on my name on either post for the link to the song, or here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffiZPD6Quos
The Bloviating Shepherd Of Lies
On the thin edge of insanity
All logic disappears
As forked mouth starts to spew
A verbal stench arises
From air-conditioned palatial Tennessee mansion
Where he and Neptune soak in hottubs
Bullshit stacked like mountains
Hopeless naiveté floods the seasons
Hard facts dissolve quickly
Then science is politicized
Payoffs placed in bank accounts
For Elitist’s future celebrations
Stark reality
Takes it’s leave
Enforcers ready their whips and chains
Nonsense seeks useful idiots as friends
The hell of audacious empowerment
From a steaming hill of dung has begun
The shepherd of all chicken little cries
The hour to hide the data, trick, or treat, has arrived,
Because …
There is no controlling legal authority.
markusurealious/windpoet
I do not disagree with this writing