L David H Hubel

L    David H Hubel



How is it that the brighter of our lot
Can not but help to walk right off a ledge?
Presented with the politicians' rot,
Emotions, not their intellect, has edge.

To raw beginners, learned men do pledge
Their reputations on mere change and hope.
Then comes the commie from his hiding hedge.
The emeritus now becomes the dope!

Endorsement lists are but a slippery slope,
For some are learned--some are quite insane.
Because of him, in darkness we now grope.
I think reductionism was your bane.

Was it the global warming scam you bought?
Look in Obama's eyes.  The truth lies not!

XLVIII Marshall Berman

XLVIII    Marshall Berman



Oh!  All this Marxist bull!  It makes me sick!
The commie manifesto makes me puke!
We've put twelve men upon the moon, you prick!
And all were taught by grandmas.  'Twas no fluke!

American success you do rebuke;
As if our excellence was got by chance;
You're not intelligentia!  You're a kook!
I wouldn't give Karl Marx a second glance.

And while you smugly danced the liberal dance;
The world was built by people in the know;
Of course you'd never once reverse your stance;
So to irrelevancy you must go.

Your communes don't produce a man of spunk.
At crunch-time, when he's needed, he'll be drunk.

XLVII Jean Anyon

XLVII    Jean Anyon



Now everybody knows, who's in the biz;
That education's naught to do with race.
There's some who are a most terrific whiz;
And others who fall flat upon their face.

When rediscovered answers you do chase,
You're bound to stumble onto old Karl Marx.
When what's between your learners you erase,
Your prototypes will not discover quarks,

A dog that goes "meow"; a cat that barks;
Is not an innovation for us, Jean.
So keep to self your communist remarks;
And let us build the national machine.

We don't need fancy NYU degrees;
My grandma used to teach the ABC's.

XLVI Rochus Misch

XLVI    Rochus Misch



I wonder how that Nazi bunker smelled;
The maniacs alive yet in their graves;
Whilst Lugers to each others' heads they held.
You were the last of Fuhrerbunker's knaves.

Just you and Goebbels, marching 'round like slaves;
You watched them kill their children in their beds;
Egomaniacy the mind depraves.
Why did you not shoot Hitler in the head?

It's true, of course, you would have wound up dead,
But could have made your martyrdom sublime.
I guess your death, to you, was quite a dread.
You could have killed him at an earlier time.

You didn't try to do what heroes do.
So are the Goebbels children haunting you?

XXXVII William Lynch, Jr.

XXXVII    William Lynch, Jr.



I managed four campaigns for President;
For Walter Mondale and Ted Kennedy;
But that accounts for only losers two.
'Twas Jesse Jackson that lost twice you see!

The "rumpled genius" they labeled me,
'Een though I cast my fate with hapless fools.
I worked New York for shoo-in Hillary
Not knowing that her tears would fall in pools!

Barack Obama came and broke the rules
Pretending not to know it was her turn
To win the joust 'tween elepants and mules.
Election night I watched her future burn.

I wonder why they thought I was so wise...
The contests were all won by other guys!

XXXII Sabawi Ibrahim al-Tikriti

XXXII    Sabawi Ibrahim al-Tikriti



You were Saddam's half-brother.  My regrets.
The six of diamonds in the terror deck;
But Dubya took your dealer in straight sets;
And hung another brother by the neck.

The leader of the secret service!  Yecccch!
Imagine working for that evil man;
Procudring wine and women for that drek.
Pretending that you were his biggest fan.

Another brother yet is in the can,
Awaiting death, his hanging date unknown.
Oh!  What a family of turds you ran.
In mis'ry and deceit your genes were sown.

You thought you'd be a martyr, but alas!
You died of cancer, just another ass.

I Enrique Otulski

I     Enrique Otulski

To put Fidel in place I worked with Che',
Deposing old Batista in his prime.
My one reward was "Head of Fisheries"
"E'en though I pledged to him my whole lifetime.

Whilst Che' was executed for his crimes,
A commie island, Cuba, we did make.
To squeeze from them last peso and last dime
We broke the poor cane workers we'd forsaked.

So sugar and cigars were our big break.
The Russian nukes we nearly brought to bear!
The stand by JFK was just a fake.
We missed our putrid goal by just a hair.

And now Fidel is sick and I am dead.
Red visions no more dancing in my head.