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The Song of Liawatha

With Apologies to Longfellow!

By The shores of the Potomac
By the shining big-butt Congress
Stood the Prius of Liawatha
Also known as Faux-ca-hontas.
By the shores of River Charlie,
Entered Hallowed Halls of Harvard,
Checked the box that said “Native”
Steal job from some other libtard.
See an opportunity awaiting
Must get herself a new appointment
Scott Brown’s star is quickly fading,
‘Cuz he’s been a disappointment.
Time to raise the casks and flagons,
Time to spike the fire-water
Time to Circle Liberal wagons,
Time to elect Nikomis’ Daughter!
Liawatha won the day then,
But she really Dindu Nuffin.
What’s a few votes from Granery Hill?
What’s wrong with some ballot stuffin’?
Liawatha lies like bearskin,
Covering up the Tee Pee Floor,
Fauxcahontas speaks with tongue of serpent,
But we all knew that months before.
Liawatha reads a letter,
From the widow of a King,
But the White Man do her better.
Tells her she can’t say a thing.
Fauxcahontas speaks with the tongue,
Forked and dipped in a poison cup.
But we knew that we have won,
When they told Liawatha to SHUT UP.

Yet more from the Definitive, Authorized, Unexpurgated, and Really Really Real Autobiography of Brian Williams:

And there we were huddled in the trenches of Pasquindale, Soviet-supplied RPGs and Katyusha rockets exploding around us, Frenchie screamin’ out for his mama as the Agent Orange seeped into our hooch, and there i was, holding back on that Neutron Bomb for dear life, trying to remember how to disarm it before the hounds of hell were let loose, when Johnny Pak, our south Korean Houseboy from the MASH unit suddenly revealed his SS tattoo and proceed to point his Luger at us! I bravely kept one hand on the Neutron Bomb and dove for the Luger, when suddenly the Japs came over the hill in a human wave attack, and a Kamikaze crashed into the trench at the same time! Wrestling the Luger from Johnny was hard, but what was harder was dealing with the profound sense of betrayal at his perfidy, which broke my heart, but I kept fighting with him until i was able to point the Luger in the direction of the approaching Tiger Tanks and pop a few of them off before the clip ran out. Bodies floated by in the Jordan River, and I swear, they all looked like Elvis. And thus, i experienced the agony of battle with my Brother-in-arms, that fateful July day on the Little Round Top, after suggesting to our commanding officer, Joshua Chamberlain, that he try a bayonet charge, since we all ran out of bullets and could no longer get them off the dead Germans.

It was at that moment i made the connection! Those enigmatic discs held the secret to the code that the patriots under my direction at Blechly Park had struggled for MONTHS to decipher! And here i was, holding the secret to Atilla’s next maneuvers across the steppes of Central Asia! naturally I reported my find directly to my commanding officer, Charles Martel, who hammered home the importance of my discovery...hence his moniker. As we peered over the top we saw them...the army of the Mahdi, in their Medieval battle Array, silhouetted across the desert sunrise, and I managed to pick off a dozen of them with my 1911, but they kept coming, wave upon wave of the Sons of the Prophet, brandishing their katanas and doing the rebel yell, their matted hair flying in the frigid arctic wind as they thundered across the tundra. One of my companions took a swig of moonshine from a flask in his pocket and offered me some. Then i strapped on my war kilt and painted my face blue and plunged into the fray, knowing that, if captured, i would be hanged, drawn, and quartered. Thanks to the little spider that kept persisting in building his web in spite of the radiation from the tactical nukes, I was inspired to lead the entire regiment to victory. It was Christmas. I’ll never forget it. it is seared, seared into my memory!

Thank God i was able to break that code, or many more lives would have been lost. Col. Tibbets confided in me that it changed the course of the war.

Was it Sir Winston? I remember him! I helped him write all his speeches. General Gordon was the one who presented me with my medals though. He was very grateful to me that I let him take the credit for my discovery of Calvary.

Ah then, we both have fond memories of General Gordon. Then that somewhat frail gentleman from England showed up and started dressing like a Bedouin. I took him aside and told him that if he really wanted credibility with these people, he should learn to ride a motorcycle. I also taught him camel-riding as an afterthought. ONE dollar to get ON the Camel, FIVE dollars to get OFF. American Dollars. I had not yet invented bitcoin at this moment in time.

Nevertheless, he learned both, survived the camel, but not the bike. He should have listened to me and gotten a Harley.

I was living in London at the time, as a special adviser to Queen Victoria. She had become so sad after Albert’s death that she needed some cheering up. So I took her on some horseback rides and some picnics, and her spirits were lifted. I also advised her servant, John Brown, on the right way to treat a lady. He was forever grateful.

Did you realize that, back in the day, when I was embedded with the Mujaheddin in Afghanistan, I was able to single-handedly turn back the depredations of a little blond Greek guy who then burst into tears because he had no more worlds to conquer. Thanks to me and my stalwart companions, we crossed the Rubicon and kicked his azz back to Macedonia!

But I needed to find that element! After trying thousands of experiments, working deep into the night, I finally settled on Radium, but I think it made me sick, so I traveled to the Congo and founded a hospital for the natives, and worked tirelessly among them, overcoming my illness with good-deed-doing..

Now I need to get back up onto my High Horse and do so inquisitioning.

(Bet you didn’t expect the Inquisition!)

We were surrounded. The Japs had created a sort of “Bulge” around us, which gives me a great idea for the name of the coming epic battle, which I will unveil in my next report from the Front. In the meantime, it is bitterly cold, and as I sit here in my foxhole, I can see ice floating, along with the bodies of Oppressed African-Americans, down the flooded Yalu River as it snakes into oblivion on this Godforsaken Island! A Peaceful-Muslim approached me with a surrender demand, but I bravely repulsed him with an epithet appropriate to his culture.

“Tell your Sheik that I have One Word for him... PISTACHIOS!”

I am sure that he got the message! This will go down in History!