The Joy of an Arab Spring

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August 2011

    As I watched news reports of the unrest in North Africa and the Middle East beginning in December 2010, I began to hope that at long last we might be seeing the Era of the Sissy Dictators coming to an end. Someday soon no less-than-worthless blowpiffle who spends all of his time kissing his own ass will be able to manipulate or coerce the populace of a nation into offering him the same vile lip service. Someday soon Humanity will no longer be subjected to the hideous spectacle of entire cities wallpapered with posters depicting an insane clown modeling Bizarro versions of costumes from a Gilbert and Sullivan opera. Someday soon no contender for the title of World’s Weakest Crybaby will be able to use an army or a national police force to throw his tantrums when he gets his tender feelings hurt and erupts into a hissy fit. Oh, hasten the day!

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Crazy Adolf set the pattern when he turned Germany into vile Nutziland.

He was a badly broken momma’s boy who thought he was peachy grand.

 

Devoid of a human soul, caring not a bit who lives or dies,

he ensnares a nation in a net woven entirely of lies.

 

With no vision of a better world to guide him, he resorts to fantasy and illusion.

Spectacle and pageantry keep the people in mass confusion.

 

Unable to care about others, he possesses the worst of superpowers.

Honking and blathering the purest piffle, he gases off for hours.

 

In 1940's Libya the Italians left as legacy a thoroughly hideous dastard.

A woman in the town of Surt gave birth to Mussolini’s psychopathic bastard.

 

He dresses like a movie star and thinks he’s the acme of perfection.

He has his critics murdered, because he can’t endure rejection.

 

All across the Muslim world they knew it wouldn’t be easy,

but the people went on a true jihad, led by Muhammad Bouazizi.

 

The blood of true martyrs blessed the soil and watered Allah’s garden.

The resolve of the people to gain their freedom could do nothing else but harden.

 

When the rebels took Zuwiya they made their most effective gains,

then someone took a gun and blew out Ghadafi’s brains.

 

Already the Libyan people have begun diligently to erase

every last image and souvenir of nasty Old Camelface.

 

Now on the people’s cellphones we see an astounding text:

"Libya is free, thank Allah; Syria is next."

 

Yes, they found that a miniature telephone that fits inside a pocket

hurts the vile dictator more than does an explosives-laden rocket.

 

The good, brave people of Syria have confronted their coward-in-chief.

In his ability to run their country well, they have lost the last shred of belief.

 

He says the protesters are terrorists and terrorists they are, for sure,

to a wimpy, pathetic dictator, who, we hope, will not endure.

 

With intense brutality his thugs strive to put the people in their place.

They torture and mutilate children; they shoot a toddler in her face.

 

Ben Ali and Mubarak did one good thing; so quickly down they fell

that their countries were saved from degenerating into a bloody living Hell.

 

When Ghadafi and Assad are finally gone the Arab hoi polloi

will celebrate their freedom. Their hearts are filled with joy.

 

And if you should have to use the restroom while enjoying a cup of coffee,

your host may gently remind you, "Don’t forget to flush the Ghadafi."

 

In the good to come out of this project we may be reluctant to believe,

but give these people their freedom and see what wonders they will achieve.

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