The Grinch Who Stole Quagmire
. . . "That's a noise," grinned Ms. Amanpour, "that I simply must hear!"
She paused, and the prune put a hand to her ear
And she did hear a sound rising over the sand
It started in low . . . . . . then it rose to sound grand. . .
But this -- this sound wasn't mad!
Why, this sound sounded . . . glad!
Every prole down in Baghdad,
the tall and the small,
was singing and dancing -- without Iraq's victory at all!
They hadn't stopped Marines from coming--they came!
Somehow or other, they came just the same.
While the Arab Street, with their feet so near to the sand,
Stood puzzling and puzzling:
"this simply can't stand???
They came without raping! They came without looting!
When Iraqis surrendered , they even stopped shooting!!!"
They puzzled and puzzled, till their puzzlers were sore.
Then the witch thought of something she hadn't before:
"Maybe Joy," she thought, "doesn't come from the killing" -
Maybe Freedom --perhaps-- is what has them all trilling."
And what happened then--well, in Iraq they still say
That the idiot's small brain grew three sizes that day.
But when the true meaning of Liberation broke through,
the dolt still had the brains of one neocon -- less two.
Then suddenly, happily, her brain didn't feel quite so tight,
She sang with new comments through the bright Baghdad night.
With a mean smile, at her mic, she descended from Hotel PLO,
Cheerily crowing "blowback!" It surely will blow...
Ah, yes...
