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HER LAST CHANCE
Hillary Clinton should hire Lyle. Seriously.
Forget Hillary, McCain’s the one that should be hiring Lyle.
Posted by Dean Douthat on 2008 03 29 at 11:17 AM • permalinkYeah, lyle, publish in hardcopy, and make a fortune! And twitting leftie idiots, of course.
Posted by The_Real_JeffS on 2008 03 29 at 01:43 PM • permalinkOn the off chance that I can catch Lyle asleep, here’s an attempt to steal that job with Hillary’s campaign: Part the First
Half a league, Half a league,
Half a leage onward,
Toward the Airport of Death
Strode the First Lady.
“Forward the Hillary Brigade!
Charge for the foyer!”.
Into the Airport of Death
The Airport at Tuzla!“Forward, toward the Press Brigade”
Was e’er the First Gal dismay’d?
Not that the Press e’er knew
Some one had blunder’d.
Hers not to make reply
Hers not to wonder why
Hers but to do and die.
Into the Airport of Death
The Airport at Tuzla!Snipers to the right of her,
Snipers to the left of her,
Photogs to the front of her,
A little girl read a poem;
Imagining the shot and shell,
Boldly she strode and well,
Into the jaws of Death
Into the flashbulb Hell
The airport at Tuzla!Posted by Harry Bergeron on 2008 03 29 at 02:55 PM • permalinkThe political poems are just for us. Tim sets the tone and attracts readers with a similar sense of irony and the absurd.
Usually I write them quickly, and usually I think of better lines or better rhymes after I hit submit.
I have an idea for a silly story for children, in short stanzas and simple verse, with a lot of internal rhymes, repetition, and funny images. One of these days.
Yes, yes. lyle is good. We’re all very proud of him.
(pssst. paco. lyle must go, I tell you. Can’t you get him hired by Hallmark or Harvard or something?)
Posted by wronwright on 2008 03 29 at 05:49 PM • permalinkMaybe I can get in first.
Clintonistan
The world needs HRC now,
She’s 60 and still getting older,
Her husband thinks she’s an old cow,
Their marriage just couldn’t get colder.So saving the world with her spouse
To fill her enormous ambition;
And locking his suite in the White House
For her would bring ample contrition.When Bubba, sans babes, cries for mercy,
She’d summon him from his new can,
Look up the unsafest Embassy
And appoint him to -’Ghanistan?Lyles poem reminds me a bit of the old one Dave used to do
One day while wlaking up a stair
I met a man who wasnt there
He wasnt there again today
I wish that man would go away.Same bit of whimsy and fun.
Posted by thefrollickingmole on 2008 03 29 at 06:44 PM • permalink#17 Just cut the letters out of contact paper and stick ‘em on your bumper!
If we don’t live near you or see you can we just honk anyway? Surely you’ll get the vibe of the honk and know that somehow, somewhere, a Blairite is happy?
Posted by carpefraise on 2008 03 29 at 10:55 PM • permalink#11 I say go for it. When my kids were little I read a lot of different books to them before bedtime, from Seuss to the poems of A.A. Milne. The ones that they enjoyed the most were the ones where the story rhymed and there was a simple repetition.
You truly are a gem and I always keep a special look out for your topical posts. Keep them coming.
Maybe you could do one along the lines of Green Eggs and Ham. Perhaps Obama I am?
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Lyle is good.