It is raining Obama. We are getting soaked. The cigarettes in the alleys are getting doused. Free enterprise is as wet as its premises have become under the communistic leanings of a retrograde hippy. In 1969 I knew a lot of Obamas. They flooded the colleges with fitful ideology and childish ideas. I needed a canoe to get down the hallways without getting smudged by naïve accusations and tie-died academic conceit. But the possibility of Obama was there in the pacifistic yearnings of covert killers. People said what they didn’t mean and didn’t mean what they said as they patted themselves on the backs of their false gestures. Everybody wanted to take their fair share but no one wanted to give it. Obama takes trillions to give himself his just-made-up deserts. Obama believes in change but he has stayed the same old hippie. Many hippies died out after Altamont. Mick sang their epitaph. And then an opinionated fool like Obama brought the hippies back. Charlie Manson is hiding in Obama’s budget. Crony capitalism is killing us. Obama has cut the heart out of our economy like the Manson gang putting stab wounds in Sharon Tate’s movie stardom.
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