Photograph by Alfred Gescheidt
The Love Songs of Mitt and Newt and Ron and Rick
(Apologies to TS Eliot)
Let us go then, Mitt and Newt,
And Ron and Rick, to stump among the sick,
The fog is thick, the victims mute
Like patients strapped upon a gurney
Let us start out on our journey.
Oh, do not ask, “Why do it?”
Quickly now, we must get to it.
In the hall, the delegates abound,
Discussing vaginal ultrasound
The yellow bile that billows from their throats
The acrid bile that burns the lining of their throats
Oily tongues lick lint from belly buttons
Saliva tongues that drool like hungry gluttons
A sodden lick that laps up with a flap
Curls back into its mouth, and shuts its trap
Oh Mitt is ready, ready now is Mitt
Face arranged to meet the faces he will meet
Temples nicely grayed, not too severe,
A touch of grave, yet ready with a smile
A manly smile, both serious and wise
A manly forelock, on a manly brow
His shirt sleeves rolled, collar casually askew
To gruntle nervous peasants, it will do
And there is time to sell a hopeful tale
And time for all his fictions new and old
Time to cozen peasants, pitchfork bold
A bill of goodness, fragile egos stroked
Time for him, and her, and you
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
In the hall, the candidates mill round
Discussing vaginal ultrasound
Take heed now and observe for here is Newt,
There is no need to wonder, “Can he do it?”
Observe and quake ye villeins, here’s bold Newton
Of pewter girth and snow atop his brow.
[And they will say “It’s got to be a wig!]
He soars above the pygmies, Mr. Big,
PhD furled, by no man o’ertopped
[And they will quake, this genius can’t be stopped!]
Eastern elites with noses out of joint
By fear anointed at his mighty challenge
For he has seen it all, and done it all—
He blazons as to dim the heliosphere,
Take heed, elites, the supermensch is here!
Mighty Newt is come, the seas are parted,
The era Newt is now, it is High Noon
The 52nd State, Newtonia, on the moon.
In the O.R. interns stand agape
Observing a procedure: medical rape
Ease down, relax, with Dr. Ron stand fast
Be comforted, the welcome light is lit,
Abide with Dr. Ron, you’re home at last
The past alive again, no need to yearn
Let fears dissolve like burning candle wax
Log cabin comfy, and no income tax
Your family Doctor Ron is at your side
All poisons of the blood now purified
Lactose intolerant, type ABO is banished.
Troops coming home tomorrow, or before
Nor ere again to leave this hallowed shore
And when they cross the threshold slam the door
Is it urine from the sheets
That stimulates these Tweets?
Rick’s God is mightier than yours
His prayers are quickly answered by email
Not ever he a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And after the Amaretto and Campari
Votive lights and stained glass windows,
Sacred texts all read, the devil burned and throttled
Alien invaders jailed, their faces mottled
College snobs cashiered stripped of decorum,
Shorn lambs rest in the bosom of Santorum
After all that and so much more,
There will be triumph, and a while
To look at Rick, and smile.
And say, “Ah! Now I comprehend
That is exactly what I meant, no more.”
Come in, lie down, submit, don’t block the door.
We have lingered in the vestibules of doubt
By time unmanned, by mermaids wetly crowned
Until unreason snared us, and we drowned
(Apologies to TS Eliot)
Let us go then, Mitt and Newt,
And Ron and Rick, to stump among the sick,
The fog is thick, the victims mute
Like patients strapped upon a gurney
Let us start out on our journey.
Oh, do not ask, “Why do it?”
Quickly now, we must get to it.
In the hall, the delegates abound,
Discussing vaginal ultrasound
The yellow bile that billows from their throats
The acrid bile that burns the lining of their throats
Oily tongues lick lint from belly buttons
Saliva tongues that drool like hungry gluttons
A sodden lick that laps up with a flap
Curls back into its mouth, and shuts its trap
Oh Mitt is ready, ready now is Mitt
Face arranged to meet the faces he will meet
Temples nicely grayed, not too severe,
A touch of grave, yet ready with a smile
A manly smile, both serious and wise
A manly forelock, on a manly brow
His shirt sleeves rolled, collar casually askew
To gruntle nervous peasants, it will do
And there is time to sell a hopeful tale
And time for all his fictions new and old
Time to cozen peasants, pitchfork bold
A bill of goodness, fragile egos stroked
Time for him, and her, and you
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
In the hall, the candidates mill round
Discussing vaginal ultrasound
Take heed now and observe for here is Newt,
There is no need to wonder, “Can he do it?”
Observe and quake ye villeins, here’s bold Newton
Of pewter girth and snow atop his brow.
[And they will say “It’s got to be a wig!]
He soars above the pygmies, Mr. Big,
PhD furled, by no man o’ertopped
[And they will quake, this genius can’t be stopped!]
Eastern elites with noses out of joint
By fear anointed at his mighty challenge
For he has seen it all, and done it all—
He blazons as to dim the heliosphere,
Take heed, elites, the supermensch is here!
Mighty Newt is come, the seas are parted,
The era Newt is now, it is High Noon
The 52nd State, Newtonia, on the moon.
In the O.R. interns stand agape
Observing a procedure: medical rape
Ease down, relax, with Dr. Ron stand fast
Be comforted, the welcome light is lit,
Abide with Dr. Ron, you’re home at last
The past alive again, no need to yearn
Let fears dissolve like burning candle wax
Log cabin comfy, and no income tax
Your family Doctor Ron is at your side
All poisons of the blood now purified
Lactose intolerant, type ABO is banished.
Troops coming home tomorrow, or before
Nor ere again to leave this hallowed shore
And when they cross the threshold slam the door
Is it urine from the sheets
That stimulates these Tweets?
Rick’s God is mightier than yours
His prayers are quickly answered by email
Not ever he a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.
And after the Amaretto and Campari
Votive lights and stained glass windows,
Sacred texts all read, the devil burned and throttled
Alien invaders jailed, their faces mottled
College snobs cashiered stripped of decorum,
Shorn lambs rest in the bosom of Santorum
After all that and so much more,
There will be triumph, and a while
To look at Rick, and smile.
And say, “Ah! Now I comprehend
That is exactly what I meant, no more.”
Come in, lie down, submit, don’t block the door.
We have lingered in the vestibules of doubt
By time unmanned, by mermaids wetly crowned
Until unreason snared us, and we drowned
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