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VINTAGE rick
It
was nearly unimaginable back then: Israelis and Palestinians
shaking hands on the White House lawn. It's even harder
to imagine now. Remember September of '93 in this Vintage
Rick!
NEW seasonal fave
Why
do they call it "traveling" if you're standing still?
And can't anyone do something about it? Get moving with
this Seasonal Fave!
The jury says, "Guilty!"
Libby Can't Beat the Rap
By Rick Horowitz
Around
the street he's Scooter -- straight shooter, well-respected,
Till he got himself connected, sure he couldn't be detected,
But Fitzgerald played it cuter than they ever thought would happen,
And he caught Lew Libby fibbing and his fancy lawyers nappin'.
Tried your tricks, Dick,
Played it slick, Dick,
Pretty sick, Dick.
In the White House they were sore, 'cause their war wasn't goin'
Like they said, but instead all these questions kept on growin',
Couldn't seize WMDs like they wanted in Iraq,
With the troops already over there, they couldn't take it back.
And then a big
op-ed, and Joe said, "It's a fake!"
"There's no yellowcake from Africa -- the whole thing's a mistake!"
Cheney hit the roof, 'cause the truth was whatever he
said,
Swore that Joe would pay, rue the day he made Cheney see red.
Tried your tricks, Dick,
Played it slick, Dick,
Pretty sick, Dick.
What a foxy scheme -- make it seem like reporters said it,
Float the word around over town to Joe Wil's discredit:
Man was only sent 'cause his wife bent the rules to let him,
"Put the flame on Plame" was the Veep's secret way to get him.
Scooter was the designated leaker, speaker to the press,
Cozied up and whispered, "Did you hear? It's all such a mess!
Valerie is Agency, just thought you'd want to know,
And it might be worth a mention if you want to hit 'em low."
Got your kicks, Dick,
Played it slick, Dick,
Pretty sick, Dick.
Cheney knew that Scooter's words would never be revealed,
A perfect shield to hide behind, reporters never yield,
Imagine their surprise -- prosecutor's talking prison!
There are cases to be martyrs for, but maybe this one isn't.
They spilled what Scooter told them, Scooter swore "I don't remember,"
He can't recall mere days or dates, or April from December,
He's busy with the large things, queens and kings, not these little
trifles,
Scooter's got a target on him now, and "Ka-pow!!" Patrick's got the
rifles.
Tried your tricks, Dick,
Played it slick, Dick,
Pretty sick, Dick.
Sent it to the jury, pure he wasn't, everyone could see it,
Put the facts on Post-Its, he was toast, and they'd go decree it,
"Guilty" was the word, heard it four times and it was over,
Cheney got away, played the master and Scoot was Rover.
Around the street he's Scooter, brand-new felon, all convicted,
Unpredicted when he started out, but once he got addicted
To the job, to the cause, to the man behind the curtain,
Cheney says he's "disappointed" -- but it's Scooter who'll be hurtin'.
Tried your tricks, Dick,
Played it slick, Dick,
Makes us sick, Dick.
Posted 3/8/07.
Get fresh commentary from syndicated columnist Rick Horowitz twice every
week
Rick Horowitz
