Two Hilarious Poems
This one's by Myriad at JREF:
One bright day, in the middle of the night,
Trustworthy traitors with explosive thermite
Put bombs in the basement for top-down collapse,
Then told thousands of Jews, "keep this plan under wraps."
They publicly flaunted their secretive ways
With a twelve-hour power-down that lasted two days.
Then innocent terrorists hijacked planes (four times),
Showing us how the U.S. is guilty of war crimes.
Then bomb-laden holograms flew in their place
(By the FBI, to throw themselves off the case)
Toward four helpless targets that planes couldn't harm.
NORAD defenders stood down in alarm
Then shot down one plane and to Cleveland flew it
To fool all the networks, who already knew it.
The fire chief said "pull it" and pushed the towers down,
Into their own footprints, for blocks all around.
These pre-taped events were all shown on TV live
(Just like when O'Brien told Winston to see five!)
As part of an idiot's ingenious plan
To fight the Iraqis in Afghanistan.
But because I know nothing, they couldn't deceive me.
I only tell lies to prove you should believe me.
And this is by the brilliant Dr Adequate, who used to be at JREF:
The Republicans came, and the Democrats too,
'cos they're all the same party (I guess that you knew)
and Jew after Jew after Jew after Jew,
and some guys in black suits (CIA).
There were people from Bilderberg, FEMA and NIST,
there were people so secret they barely exist;
the Masons had gatecrashed, they weren't on the list,
but Cheney allowed them to stay.
There were people who said they were friends of Karl Rove's,
and the bankers turned up in their limos and droves,
quite enough for a dozen Bohemian Groves,
'til the meeting was packed wall to wall.
There were people whose badges just said "FBI";
there were folks representing the FDNY,
and the Federal Reserve (though I still don't know why)
and old Uncle Tom Cobley and all.
Then Cheney addressed them, and said, with a sneer:
"I assume you all know why I've gathered you here.
We're agreed on mass-murder", he said (to a cheer)
"but there's something we haven't resolved.
Although I'm an evil despicable man
--- no, hold your applause --- I can't think of a plan
to destroy the Twin Towers, be darned if I can ...
so we got all you people involved."
Some cried: "Use a missile disguised as a plane!"
some spoke up for lasers, while others again
opined it was clear to a man with a brain
that holograms ought to be used.
Then FEMA declared they could do it themselves
with some classified hardware they kept on the shelves;
but: "You'll need our assistance!" cried all Keebler's Elves ---
and the meeting grew slightly confused.
The people from NIST said: "To make people die, on
the whole, it's explosives you ought to rely on"
--- some clapped, but the senior Elder of Zion
said: "Really? Explosives? ... perhaps ...
but it sounds rather iffy ... if I may advance
an idea that's a cert and leaves nothing to chance
then we Jews have a plan that's quite foolproof --- let's dance!
and the buildings are sure to collapse."
Some argued for "pods", whereas others expressed
the opinion that "squibs" give atrocities zest.
Some said: "If they're silent, then nukes would be best",
but others denounced this as bull.
They said: "We reject and rebut your position:
let's not mess about with your fusion or fission;
conventional missiles will do for this mission";
and Larry said: "What if we pull?"
The debate grew quite heated and dragged on for hours
as they looked for a way to demolish the Towers:
some argued for death rays with magical powers,
and others said thermite was nice.
When the argument's heat gave no promise of dropping,
they bickered and wrangled all night without stopping,
and sent out for pizzas with twelve kinds of topping,
and fought for the very last slice.
Then the man they called "Dubya" got up from his seat;
he banged with his gavel, he rose to his feet,
and he said: "Here's a plan that I think can't be beat:
let's do the caboodle --- the lot!
Use holograms, thermite, and lasers and things,
and explosives and missiles and pigs that have wings ---
'cos we all know that added complexity brings
more chance of success to a plot."
Then some guy started laughing and punching the air,
and the plotters observed, as they turned round to stare,
on the delegate's badge that they gave him to wear:
"Dylan Avery, Second Class Shill";
and he sat and he scribbled his notes all the while,
and was heard to remark with a curious smile:
"If this won't make people go into denial
I don't think that anything will."