Sick and Tired of the Liberal Cesspool



When I am in Brooklyn I can tell that every question is answered

By the same liberal tautology.

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Gays deserve equal rights;

Equal rights should be applied to gays.


And if you don’t agree we will kill you

Because you are stupid

And don’t understand that the left wing

Dominates the motion

Of a bird sh***ing .


I know what everyone is going to say before he says it

With his Brooklyn twang.


I am reminded of 1969 when we protested against Vietnam

And abandoned the South Vietnamese,


When we sang out against the military-industrial complex

And left ourselves without jobs,


When we sang Beatles songs and Beethoven rolled over

In his neglected genius.


We marched for black rights and when the blacks became bigoted

And wrong we weren’t strong enough to protest their protestations.


Did a lot of drugs.

Thought that was cool.

Until I recognized that my smoking was the ashes of intelligence

And I had become a tool to unhinge my intellect.



I don’t belong in Brooklyn.

I should cross the Brooklyn Bridge and go south

To Alabama where manners have traditions

That find politeness in the handshakes of gentlemen.


I want to be the return of decency and the burial of socialism.

Keep the limousine liberals out of my graveyard.


Bury me in old Virginia or Georgia.

I want to be the next installment of “Gone with the Wind.”

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