borealis wrote:
obot 1024 wrote:
neonzx wrote:
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And of Judge Coleman?
Nevermore?
Is there a Judge Lenore?
This thread seems a little slow today so maybe I can slip this tidbit of easily forgotten lore past Raicha...
The MavenOnce upon a mid-day signing, while I pondered Boehner’s whining
Laced with many a worn-out slogan from that orange bore,
While I faded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a rapping,
As a process server tapping, tapping at my office door.
“’Tis some messenger,” I sputtered, “rapping at my office door;
Only this, and nothing more.”
How distinctly I recall it, as I reached to clutch my wallet
Suddenly my cards outpoured and lay exposed upon the floor.
Sheepishly I stooped to seize them; vainly I could not retrieve them.
What if Eric Cantor saw them, saw the name of Velamoor?
Oh, the famous clerk who saved me, valiant Siddharth Velamoor?
Nameless here for evermore.
And the red-state delegation, with their dreadful legislation,
Drilled me – filled me with fantastic questions never asked before;
So that now, to still the stuttering from my tongue, I stood there muttering
“’Tis some messenger requesting entry at my office door,
Some young messenger awaiting at the Oval Office door.”
This it is and nothing more.
Presently my grip grew stronger and I bit my lip no longer,
"Sirs," said I, "and madams, truly your indulgence I implore;
I was near a state of slumber, when I dropped my cards and numbers,
And you awkwardly stood gawking, gawking at my office floor.
As I tidy up would someone kindly see who’s at the door?
Just some cards and nothing more.”
Toward my entrance doorway peering, long I waited, wondering, fearing
Doubting, dreaming dreams no President has ever dreamed before;
Once the Secret Service frisked him, through the door they quickly whisked him,
And the delegation whispered, “Is this Mister Velamoor?”
“Velamoor?” I whispered and the echo came back
Velamoor.Merely this and nothing more.
Deep into my chair I slided, wondering if he’d been indicted.
Soon again I heard a rapping, somewhat sharper than before;
“Surely”, said I to the GOPers, “we don’t need more interlopers,
family members, aides or chauffeurs. Tell the guard to bar the door.
I implore you please ignore who stands there knocking at the door.
“’Tis Michelle and nothing more.”
Hardly had I hid that clutter, when, with many a flap and flutter,
In there tramped the Birther Maven screeching like a brassy whore.
Not the least obeisance paid she; not an introduction made she;
But with mien of one stark crazy, threw her papers on the floor.
Thrust her butt into a chair and threw her papers on the floor.
Thrust and threw and nothing more.
Much I marveled this ungainly painted crow could speak so plainly
Though her shriekings little meaning, little relevancy bore.
All those present were confuzzled, scratched their heads and stood there puzzled
At this haggard buzzard who had swaggered though my office door,
Bird or beast with melded breasts who threw the papers on the floor,
And kept cawing “Velamoor.”
Startled by the mass confusion, wrought by her most rude intrusion,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what she muses is a bunch of birther lore.
This old troubled narcissistic doubles as some sort of mystic,
Holding court to flying monkeys, ever loyal to the core;
And to slake their adoration, they’d destroy the nation’s core
With the myth of Velamoor.”
[Yet despite my chronic lying, Mitch McConnell wasn’t buying.]
“That bitch,” Mitch said, “is a vulture and she’s from a foreign culture;
Still I’d like to hear the story from this fellow Velamoor.
Once we’ve gotten those essentials, may we look at your credentials?
That’s potential evidence you neatly picked up from the floor.
Highly suspect evidence that lay there smoking on the floor.”
Asked the Maven, "Velamoor?"
“Boss”, said Siddharth in contrition, “sorry that I blew the mission;
Only after extraordin’ry rendition, I went o’er.
First I sat with no retractions, all throughout the tooth extractions,
Presently she lowered her drawers and bade me further to explore.
Lowered her drawers down forwardly and bade me further to explore.
Croaking, 'you’re about to score'.”
“Silence Siddharth”, said I choking, “tell these folks you’re merely joking,
Poking ridicule at that poor bloated bloke who once before
Did the deed and came up smiling, claimed the crow could be beguiling,
Hotter, wetter, better than an ordinary two-bit whore.
Tell the folks you’re lying ‘bout this hotter, wetter, tighter whore.”
Quoteth Siddharth, “Nevermore.”
Onward droned his exposition: “‘Twas the oddest deposition;
She, not I, dropped in position, meowing, growling on all four,
Purring gently, ‘Carter, Carter’, clear the terms were of her barter:
Trading candor for a caning as they do in Singapore.
She’d submit to caning in the style of distant Singapore!
Forty strokes and not one more.”
“Sadist Siddharth, fickle grifter! Falling for this slick shape-shifter,
‘Twas a trick: While huffing nitrous, forty lashes hurts no more
Than a case of gingivitis, yet you now come back and bite us!
This despite your seal team training on a foreign shore.
Oh, the wasteful secret training on that far-off foreign shore!”
Quoth the messenger, “no more”.
And the Maven, hissy fitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
Witness to corruption as this nation’s never heard before.
And my soul cries, “Oh, what pity this Judiciary Committee,
As the limelight o’er her gleaming, steaming o’er each oily pore,
Ponders True Bill findings soon to be reported to the floor.”
Quoth the Maven,
Velamoor!Edit: Coupla minor edits.
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