A musical interlude
Hello muddah, hello faddah,
Here I am at Camp Bogata.
Camp is very entertaining,
All my faith in communism has been waning
Smelly hippies, in the commune
Hate the fact that dad’s a tycoon
Now, I should have picked a winner
The proletariat now have me cooking dinner
November 30th, 2007 at 12:17 am
I blogged about this a few days ago. The real funny part is she did her thesis on FARC. Guess she didn’t do very well.
November 30th, 2007 at 1:36 am
Well done, Unc.
Allan Sherman would be proud.
November 30th, 2007 at 2:41 am
So what did she expect, something out of Doctor Zhivago with her playing Julie Christie’s role? I hope she’s a good cook, dont wanna piss off the commissar.
November 30th, 2007 at 9:27 am
Good stuff, Unc.
I’ll give the gal credit for having the courage of her convictions to actually give them a try. I notice that most people who spout that communal nonsense never actually getting around to living their own lives that way or moving to communist country.
November 30th, 2007 at 11:30 am
“How they drone,
Oh muddah faddah
Finely hone
Against a Prada
My Che T
Is wearing out and now
We’re even running out of chow…”
November 30th, 2007 at 11:34 am
That was my belly-laugh of the day! Bravo! Encore!
November 30th, 2007 at 12:46 pm
Excellent! I’m always amazed at people that can make words do things like that.
[I think you mean waning, not waining, though.]
November 30th, 2007 at 1:43 pm
ROFLMAO.
November 30th, 2007 at 3:27 pm
Ha! I needed that this Friday.
November 30th, 2007 at 4:34 pm
I think it would be better to call it “Camp FARCranada”.
December 1st, 2007 at 12:49 am
Hello dad, hello mommy;
Hope you’re both nice and comfy.
Dad is dead, but not yet mommy
She’s just been, quite the dummy.
Pick’s Disease, what a bummer!
Ruined my, whole last summer.
Doesn’t know, who the fuck I am,
Our birthdays are, like years-old jam.
If I called, she wouldn’t know,
Who it is, or if there’s snow;
If there’s rain, there’ll be pain,
Because she will just, call again.
My wife is mad,
and daughter, too;
they’ve both got, a touch of flu.
Why don’t they
take it out on me,
sure as shit, they both agree.
Son has hooked us up, with his doggy pup.
Can’t stay at home, cuz he throws up.
Etc.
Hats off to Billy Beck and his blog these last years. Best wishes to him, the Coots, and paleolibertarianism and paleoconservatism in general.
Any of you fellow grunts in the cultural wars can email me at belovedbold357@gmail.com and let’s rock a little.