Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious blog of liberal lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As if some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember, year 2000 month November,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From CNN, surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Al Gore -
For the bold and brainy candidate whom the angels named Al Gore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And each sad flickering account of the horrors of miscount
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I blocked the cheating
Noting: 'Tis some visitor screeching hyperbole at my chamber door -
Ann Coulter entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Shakespeare's Sister trolls the mire; and annoyance turns to ire,
`Damnit,' said I, `Madam, truly your abrogation I implore;
But the fact is I am a Jew, and offended at your world view,
And so please woman I ask you, leave evangelistic leanings at the door,
Though I tried to ignore you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, The Whited Sepulchre, clearing,
Up the dogma that surrounds her bleating drama I abhor
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken were the whispered words, `Media whore!'
”Ann?” I whispered, and an echo murmured back the words, `Media whore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
I sat down to o’er The Primate Diaries pore.
`Surely,' said I, `surely Eric knows that these comments are barbaric;
Let me see then, the hysteric, and intelligent design explore -
Hypocrisy he has chosen as his writing chore; -
'Tis the truth and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped Greta Christina of her self-named blog before
Not the least obeisance makes she; not an honor played she;
But, anger did display she for the honor of the atheist does she implore -
Over fifty reasons she gives for the atheist to stand for
All of that, and a little more.
Greta continues in beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Of the thought of epidemic through the decades I sailed past its ghastly shore,
`Though thy memory is not past, thou,' I said, `I come to lambaste
HIV denial leaves me aghast wondering what it all is for -
Tell me how many need to wither and die before!'
Quoth denialists, `Clearly, more.'
Much I marvelled next quite vainly at Fred who spoke not plainly,
Reported by Abyss to Hope – she, prudery does deplore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with abstinence being any way to score -
Abuse can be countered teaching sex education and rapport,
This the parties should explore.
Then Jon Swift, sitting lonely on the outskirts, spoke only,
Of that Frost boy, as his need for SCHIP he did cry for.
On a radio address he uttered – conservative blogs were all afluttered -
Till Limbaugh merely muttered - Children have been used before -
As suicide bombers in the East children have been used before
Then I fell straight to the floor.
Startled as I did awaken by No Right Turn I was shaken,
New Zealand a land I have rare dwelled on before
A new law did they pass just meant only to harass
Tourist, travel’r and alas even residents must pay for this new war -
The scourge of hidden terrorist on which we blame this war
That is fought on distant shore.
But the story still beguiling my sleepy brain into smiling,
Straight I found a cushioned seat at computer to explore;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to thinking
Larry Craig must be drinking, to stand upon the Senate floor -
I gleaned from Evolution…not just a theory anymore
On his restroom paramour
To keep us engaged in guessing, while voters are expressing
Either move on or vote a Democrat to Idaho’s floor;
This and more I sat divining, as carnival spots I was assigning
When I notice who’s been pining for the Republicans of yore,
Those small government Republicans with family values of yore
It’s Dr. Biobrain galore!
`Prophets!' said I, `all among you! - prophet still, if dark or pale blue! -
I present the best of those submitted to this humble door
Tired yet all undaunted, just a democrat we wanted -
By Florida we’re still haunted – these are truly the hardcore
These 10 blogs are all worth looking through and more
And now I hit the liquor store.