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Sunday, July 24, 2005

 

The Wreck of the S.S. Turdblossom

In honor of Uncle Karl's ongoing legal "issues", I present this reworking of a well-known Gordon Lightfoot song, the tune for which can be found here.

The Wreck of the S.S. Turdblossom

The legend lives on in the West Wing on down
Of the big cheese they called Bush's Brain
The man, it was said, never gave up an inch
Even when the ship of state was heading for the drain

He was evil and cunning, a thousand times over
Then did the S. S. Turdblossom set sail
Karl kept a tight ship, yes this is true, to the end
When the ship of state sank like a stone

Karl Rove was the genius behind the White House
Coming down from a stolen election in November
As the architect of their evil plan, he was on top
With a West Wing and a press corpse to his liking

Then came Valerie and hubby Joe, speaking the truth
Karl could not abide by this, no he could not
And later that day, he spoke her name out of turn
Could this be the beginning of the end for them?

The whispers online made a tattletale sound
And the wave soon broke over his ship
As everyone knew, as Karl surely did too
T'was the ghost of Bad Karma come knockin'

The day would soon come when the truth would come out
As the lies kept on piling and piling up
When the truth finally came, it rode right on in
In their faces, did it come a-crashin' down

When the press corpse finally noticed what Karl did say
It was too late for him, yes it was
At high noon did the house of cards finally collapse
He said, "Guys, that's it, I'm outta here"

Karl Rove then tried to go to the ground
But the West Wing would not let him go
And later that day, when the lights came on up
Came the wreck of the S. S. Turdblossom

Does anyone know where old Karl has gone
While the country awaits Mr. Fitzgerald
The pundits all say they'll get right to the root of this
If they could just understand it at all

He might have gone south or he might have changed names
He might have lost weight and gotten a new face
But all that remains is the truth of what he did
To tell her name to one who should not know it

George Bush stumbles, in a confused daze
In the ruins of his house of cards
And Condi still lies like a good little wench
She does what her Dear Leader commands her

And farther on down the political food chain
The press and the pundits still sit there
And they all say they would have done it right
With the "election" of November still fresh

In a small little courtroom Patrick still struggles on
In the search for the Truth will he prevail
The presstitutes still lie, 24 hours a day
For they still fear the S. S. Turdblossom

The legend lives on in the West Wing on down
Of the big cheese they called Bush's Brain
The man, it was said, never gave up an inch
Even when the ship of state was heading for the drain

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