The poet William Stafford set himself the task of writing a poem a day. When someone asked him what he would do when his poem-of-the-day wasn't very good, he replied "I simply lower my standards." In order to increase output, the bar here is set at a low level - the point of this is to have some fun with current events and politics. I welcome contributions and comments. Now you can also follow Doggerelo on Twitter (@doggerelo). Because of continuing medical problems, I'm no longer able to post a poem-a-day. I'll continue to post poems, but at a reduced frequency, so please stay tuned.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Rush Limbaugh and the Axe

I’ll be taking a break for a couple of weeks, but while I’m gone, here are some of Doggerelo’s greatest hits, in case you missed them first time around. 

Friday, March 9, 2012

Fox News commentator Eric Bolling suggested that the whole Sandra Fluke/Rush Limbaugh controversy had been orchestrated by the White House.

George Frownley took a last drag on his Camel and tossed the butt into the gutter.  Axe would be waiting for him in the garage. An acid burble rose from his gut – he was always nervous when he had to meet Axe.  He needed a drink, but it was only 10:30 in the morning and Axe would definitely not approve.   He grimaced and crossed Michigan Avenue to the parking garage.   He spotted Axe’s car, a beat-up purple Prius, right where he said it would be, in space 203 on the Orange level.  He took out the keys Axe had sent him and drove down to the Blue level and parked close to the stairwell.  A guy with a cane, dark glasses and a straw Trilby hat limped over to the car.  George didn’t recognize him at first but the mustache was a giveaway – it was Axe, in a disguise George hadn’t seen before.

“Go down to the Red level,” barked Axe, “and park in space 557”. 

“Good work with Sandra”, he said after they had parked.

“Yeah, she was perfect for the part.”  George was impressed that she seemed so wholesome, although Axe had warned him that she was just a slut, a common prostitute.  “We had to go over her testimony several times, but after slipping a couple C-notes into her bra, she caught on. The whole set-up was beautiful, Axe.  How did you know they wouldn’t let her testify? And then the Pelosi thing – it was great.”

“Planning, George…nothing left to chance.”

“I listened to Rush that afternoon.  I couldn’t believe that he walked right into the trap.  He really outdid himself this time, calling her a slut, telling her to make tapes of herself having sex.  I was afraid it was just way too much and Romney and the rest would have to call him out for it.”

“Naah, I know these guys, George.  If they put all their balls together, they couldn’t make enough testosterone for a single hard-on.  They’re so scared of Rush that if he said ‘shit’ they’d fill up their pants in 30 seconds.  Romney with his ‘not language I would have used’ – Jeez, what a wuss!  So now we got ‘em – you know, if they can’t stand up to Rush Limbaugh, how’re they gonna do against Ahmadinejad.  We’re gonna tag them with that for the rest of the campaign.”

“Well, it was a great operation, Axe.  Congratulations.”

“You played your part well, George.  Sandra was completely believable. “  Axe took out an envelope and handed it to me. “This is for her.  She’s working at a porn shop over on Hubbard.”

“I’m still puzzled about Limbaugh, though.  He was so over the top.  It doesn’t make much sense.  And yet the whole operation hinged on him doin’ what he did.  How could you be sure he’d run off the cliff like that?”

“Like I said, George – leave nothing to chance.”

“Wait…I don’t understand.  You mean…?”

“Yep, Rush is our guy.  We’ve been grooming him for years.  He’ll do anything for Viagra.  Wait 'til you see what he’s gonna say about Hillary - but that won’t be ‘til the fall.”     

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