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Is Barack Obama
A one-act drama?
He says we can cope
And offers us hope
But birthers are certain
They'll ring down his curtain.
Job insecurity
Is their surety.
Ah, Sarah, Sarah,
Love your mascara
But please don't dare a
Presidential bid.
We're worried, kid,
You might flip your lid.
All your chimeras
Make us timorous.
Subtlety-bereft,
Head titlting left,
Oddly left-brainy
Is dour Dick Cheney.
Says our Torquemada,
"Torture? We gotta.
Simply can't afford
Not to waterboard."
Senator John McCain
Goes against the grain,
He boasts, but that's mirth
To J.D. Hayworth
Who calls hero Mac weak,
Politically meek,
Not tea-party hearty
Or tax-averse tarty.
If Bela Lugosi
Bit Nancy Pelosi
What would he find
'Neath that face unlined?
A compassionate flood
Of hot liberal blood
Or a controlled leak
On a string-puller's cheek?
It's mission creep
For Meryl Streep.
Julia Child, Abba,
Sophie--she grabs a
Role and commands it,
That show-stealing bandit,
And automatically's
An Oscar nominee.
Limbaugh? You can't hush Rush.
His words simply gush.
A man lacking doubt,
He has even more clout
Than angry Glenn Beck,
That sputterer of dreck,
And rules air-wave talk
Like a fighter-jock.
Medea, sorceress,
Ducked media sources
But they got the goods
On proud Tiger Woods.
His apologies
And bended knees
Are the type of cheese
That makes us quease.
Old Brett Favre's a Vike
Still able to strike
From 50 yards away.
Though many balls stray,
He'll keep making throws
(That's all he knows)
Till Childress, with gall,
Takes away the ball.
Steve Nash, unabashed,
Might make a hash
Of a fast break.
But that mistake
Only reminds you
There's no one else who
Can set up play
In his masterful way.
Black-bearded Le Bron.
Cavs' herald of dawn,
Their King James gospel,
Has talent colossal.
Fans, hypochondrial,
Fear he's apocryphal,
And worry he'll weary
Of life at Lake Erie.
Mark McGwire's two charms--
The popeye forearms
And uppercut swing--
Created a zing,
His flies taking wing
And reaching the void
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