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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!
Bush, tumbling
When 43's at 22
By Rick Horowitz
"Overall, the president's approval rating has dropped five points
from last week and is now the lowest of his presidency. Only 22 percent
of Americans approve of the job he's doing, while 70 percent of Americans
disapprove -- a new high....The 70 percent disapproval rating is higher
than any measured since Gallup began asking about presidential job approval
in 1938."
CBS
News Poll, Released 10/1
In days of old, when knights were bold,
And no one had a telephone,
The guys
in charge could strut their stuff
While common
folk were on their own.
If leaders
stumbled, made mistakes,
It didn't
have to take a toll,
For that
was in the glory days,
Before
the first opinion poll.
But now it's
different, now it's changed,
As Mister
Bush knows all too well,
His ratings
used to kiss the sky,
But then
they fell...
and fell...
and fell.
They tumbled
from their lofty heights,
The nation
stirred with discontent,
It's hard
to say you're Number One
When you're
at 22 percent.
In days of old, before the crash,
Before
the wars and hurricanes,
He thought
he had it figured out,
He'd do
it like he did campaigns.
Divide
and conquer! Hit and run!
Be bold!
Be firm! And don't back down!
But then
he pushed it much too far --
And now
they want him out of town.
'Cause things
are different, things have changed,
The numbers
tell his tale of woe,
"Eight
years is plenty," people say.
"You've
done enough. Now please -- just go!"
It's gone
so bitter, gone so mean,
He wonders
where the good times went,
There's
nothing left but might-have-beens
When you're
at 22 percent.
In days like
these, we're all plugged in,
And people
judge your ev'ry move,
They check
a box, they click a key,
They say
"We strongly disapprove."
There's
no escaping, no relief,
They strip
you bare, they jab each nerve,
The one
small consolation is
You only
get what you deserve.
So things are
different, things have changed,
The world
moves on, the tide has turned,
He thought
he'd fly right to the sun,
His dreams
got scorched, his wings got burned.
"You can't
fool all the people all the..."
-- Now
he knows just what they meant,
The numbers
make it, or they don't:
And he's
at 22 percent.
Posted 10/2/08. For
prize-winning prose and entertaining verse, "Rick's" is the place!
Rick Horowitz
