Rush and the Pussy-Cat: A Limbaughrhyme

From MediaMatters: Limbaugh said he learned about women from his cat, which "gets loved," "petted," and "fed" and "doesn't have to do anything for it"

On the November 30 edition of his nationally syndicated radio show, host Rush Limbaugh proclaimed: My "cat's taught me more about women, than anything my whole life" because his pet cat "comes to me when she wants to be fed," and "[s]he's smart enough to know she can't feed herself. She's actually [a] very smart cat. She gets loved. She gets adoration. She gets petted. She gets fed. And she doesn't have to do anything for it." Limbaugh has previously stated, on the March 1, 2005, edition of his show, that "[w]omen still live longer than men because their lives are easier"; on January 10, he suggested that some women "would love to be hired as eye candy."

You can read the rest of this article here.

Here is my parody of Edward Lear's famous poem The Owl and the Pussy-Cat. In my version, Rush Limbaugh substitutes for "the owl."

Rush and the Pussy-Cat
(With apologies to Edward Lear)
By Elaine Magliaro

Rush and his Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a humongous pea-green boat.
They took some victuals and plenty of Skittles
Zipped up in big blue tote.
Rush looked up to the stars above
And croaked like frog in heat:
“O lovely pussy, O Pussy, my pet
What a purr-fect little pussy! You’re sweet,
So sweet!
What a purr-fect little pussy! Let’s eat!!!”

Pussy said to her master, “Can we sail a little faster?
I’d like to reach land by dawn.
You’ve got ketchup on your chinny and you’re talking like a ninny.
Will you stop wolfing down all my prawn!”
So they sailed away and decided to stay
On an isle that served endless buffets.
And there on the sand—a roast beef in his hand—
Rush settled in chartreuse-colored chaise,
A chaise.
Rush settled in a chartreuse-colored chaise.

“Rush, are you still eating?” purr-fect pussy started bleating.
“You will never EVER stop, I fear!”
He ignored her plaintive pleas as he ate a plate of cheese
And he guzzled down a gallon stein of beer.
Then he crunched a bag of chips and he smacked his lusty lips.
Next, he started scarfing down some cassoulet.
Oh, he kept on masticating. It was SO intoxicating
He cried, “Pussy, will you marry me today,
today?!”
He cried, “Pussy, will you marry me today?!”

Pussy rolled her feline eyes and began to vocalize
Her reasons for not wanting to be wed.
“Oh, I know you think I’m dandy. I don’t want to be eye candy—
But respected for the brains inside my head.”
She then stood on her hind paws and she showed her pointed claws.
“I'm a female who wants so much more from life.
So your offer I’ll decline—and I hope that you won’t whine.
Rush, I cannot be your sweet submissive wife,
Your wife.
I just cannot be your sweet submissive wife.”

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At Wild Rose Reader, I have Things to Do If You Are a Pencil, an original poem that’s included in Falling Down the Page: A Book of List Poems, a new anthology edited by Georgia Heard.

At Blue Rose Girls, I have a post about Magnetic Poetry and a poem I composed using one of the kits at the magnetic Poetry site. (Thanks to Cloudscome for her Magnetic Poetry post last Friday.)

Julie Larios has the Poetry Friday Roundup at The Drift Record.

Journalistawocky: A Poem Inspired by Bill O'Reilly

Here is an excerpt from Coming soon to a lefty rag near you by Bill O’Reilly
(Boston Herald—Sunday, March 22, 2009)

The other day, left-wing muckraker Seymour Hersh went on MSNBC and said he had information, provided by the usual anonymous sources, that Dick Cheney was running an assassination squad out of the White House.

I have but one simple observation: If Cheney really had such a crew, Hersh would have been dead a long time ago, and so would most everybody at MSNBC.

You can read the rest of Bill’s Op-Ed here.


Inspired by Bill O’Reilly’s Op-Ed, I give you this parody of Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky:
Journalistawocky
(With apologies to Lewis Carroll)
By Elaine Magliaro

‘Twas brilling, and the slimy Rove
Did gyre and gyrate in D. C.;
All mumsy were the neocons,
As was Darth Dick, our last V. P.

“Beware the liberal media!
The pinko press is out to get us!
Watch out for Seymour Hersch. Do shun
That venal villainnettus!”

He took his AK-47:
Long time an investigative foe he sought—
So rested he by the River Potomac
And lay awhile in thought.

And as in ruffish thought he lay,
Seymour Hersh with his fearsome pen,
Came snuffling through the grubbly grass,
And flubbled on the fen.

One shot! Two! And through and through
The bullets all went whizzerack!
He left Hersh then—and took his pen.
He went scarrumping back.

“And hast though slain that narsty knave?
Come to my arms, my breadly lad!
Oh freelish day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chuckled for he was so glad.

‘Twas brilling, and the slimy Rove
Did gyre and gyrate in D. C.;
All mumsy were the neocons,
As was Darth Dick, our last V. P.

A Lobbying I'll Go: A D. C. Ditty

From National Journal Magazine (March 21, 2009)

Obama Aiming To Lock Turnstile For Lobbyists
President Obama wants Washington lobbyists to check their professional identities on the way into his administration.
By Julie Kosterlitz

Ever since Barack Obama began issuing his broadsides on the presidential campaign trail against lobbyists and the "culture of Washington," Washington has debated whether he was being cynical or merely naive.

Lobbyists "think they own this government, but we're here today to take it back," Obama announced at the outset of his campaign in 2007. He later boasted that he didn't "take a dime of [lobbyists'] money, and when I am president, they won't find a job in my White House."

Although he had already softened his stance a bit before the election -- saying only that lobbyists wouldn't rule his White House -- the pundits and K Street pronounced Obama's boast a nonstarter. Sooner or later, most experienced Washington hands gravitate to lobbying, went the logic, and Obama simply would not be able to run a government without veterans who had some connection to K Street or the wider influence sector.

You can read the rest of the article here.

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A Lobbying I’ll Go: A D. C. Ditty
by Elaine Magliaro

A lobbying I’ll go, a lobbying I’ll go,
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
I’ve got a corporate stash.
I’ll take a wad of cash.
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
I’ll drive into D. C.
Oh, how they’ll welcome me!
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
The senators all know
I’m like Santa Claus. Ho, ho!
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
With my roll of bills unwound
I’ll pass the wealth around.
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
There’s a congressman of note!
Hey, I’ll go and buy a vote.
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
This town Washington’s for sale.
We lobbyists prevail.
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.
I love the work I do.
I make LOTS of money too!
Heigh ho the CEO, a lobbying I’ll go.

A Hunting He Will Go: A Poem about Dick Cheney

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Vice President Dick Cheney accidentally shot and wounded a campaign contributor during a weekend quail hunt on a friend's South Texas ranch, local authorities and the vice president's office said Sunday. (February 13, 2006)

A Hunting He Will Go
A poem inspired by our former vice president
by Elaine Magliaro

Who’s hunting here? I think I know.
That’s why I’m certain I must go.
Don’t want to get shot by mistake
Because he thinks that I’m a doe.

I hear his voice. He’s coming near.
Oh, Lord! I know I’ve much to fear.
I best be sprightly on my feet
And get the HELL out of here!

His rifle’s raised; he’s taking aim.
“I’m a human being!” I exclaim.
“Hey! Can’t you see I’m not a deer?”
(Guess he’s decided I’m fair game.)

Forsooth! Alas! He walks my way.
I guess this ain’t my lucky day.
I do not want to be his prey.
I do not want to be his prey.