The President gets all up in arms and goes ape over vaping.

Dry Cough.

Don is going to make a stand,
Donald wants vaping banned,
Donald sees that noxious cloud
And decides ‘that can’t be allowed.’

Donald knows its deadly stuff;
It all starts with just one puff
Then kids are dying in the streets
According to Don’s concerned tweets.

How many lives will Don’s law save
From puffing away into an early grave?
See, Don can do what’s good and right,
Might he yet become our shining light?

Don has proved saving lives can be done,
Now, can he handle the NRA smoking gun?
Shoot down the leading cause of accidental death?
I wouldn’t hold my breath.

Advertisements

More shootings in Texas. Can’t someone there exercise a little control? Or is that crazy talk?

More Of The Same.

It was just another routine traffic stop
Or so thought the Odessa, Texas, traffic cop,
But you’re free to carry a shootin’ iron in the Lone Star State
And some ornery Texans prefer straight shootin’ to talkin’ straight.

The Texas Governor Greg grieves over the horrific toll
But Abbott’s not able to be convinced on gun control,
On the contrary, instead of any controls he’d rather
Give any fool who can afford a firearm open slather.

We knew it would happen again, and it did. But so soon? Mr President, its time for a little control. Please?

Mad Dog Days.

They’re still shivering in the aisles down at old El Paso
Though it’s been a lazy slow cookin’ Southern hazy crazy afternoon,
There’s a similar smoky atmosphere at Peppers Bar up in Dayton, Ohio;
Let’s pray to God (or whoever) there’s a change in the weather- mighty soon.

El Paso Walmart today; Tomorrow, who knows? But it WILL happen again, won’t it?

Wake Up:Another Not-so-great Day.

If you go down to the Mall- any Mall– today
Let’s hope you don’t meet with a sad demise,
Once again pat well-practiced prayers we’ll pray
And react with shock and horror, but not surprise.

 

Two more shootings in the great States; There’s a certain sense of inevitability and deja vu going on. Yet again.

Automatic Response.

The good and noble NRA care, they care a lot
When some poor innocent schmuck gets shot,
Praying, as the priest’s administering the last rites,
Praying this won’t impact on their gun-totin’ rights.

Another shooting in the great States…oh, how hum-drum,
What once left me sadly speechless now leaves me numb,
This week Brownsville’s the place where the hot shots went ballistic,
Now, like the NRA, I see this tragedy as just another sad statistic.

Like the NRA, I now simply shrug, and move on,
It’s a crying shame but my innocence has gone,
I’ve hardened my heart, I may be losing my soul,
But pray I’ll never become a card-carrying NRA asshole

A dozen die in a shooting at Virginia Beach. Time to reach for the tissues and the cliches again.

That Same Old Familiar Feeling.

Sweet Jesus, just as one gun-nut falls, another fills the breech;
They’re sending their heart-felt condolences to Virginia Beach
Where yet another gun-totin’ disgruntled worker went ballistic,
God, aren’t these constant thoughts ‘n’ prayers sounding ritualistic?

 

Texas, a law unto itself; guns, religion, rights, and an Attorney General who makes you get down on your knees and ask ‘Why, in the name of all that’s Holy, why?’

The Arms Of Jesus.

You don’t want to mess with the Lone Star state,
They don’t believe in listening to illiberal debate,
They have faith in a President and God being great,
They stick to their guns, say their piece- and shoot straight

There, their view on life is conservative,
There a God-fearing life you better live,
Where if, for public office you hope to stand
You have to have an NRA permit in your hot hand.

Now, they have an Attorney General, name o’ Ken,
Once a highfalutin lawyer a pric– prince amongst men,
He swears by commandments delivered way back when
Though in Texas ‘Thou shalt not kill’ scrapes in at number ten.

Now good ol’ Ken wants to bring guns into church-
Be like good ol’ times, back at the good ol’ John Birch-
There’s nothing like feeling ones faith being bolstered
Than a pistol pressed to your heart, shoulder holstered.

Soon at church you can sing to Him, do the Mass,
Hope like hell the hymn don’t strain the stained glass,
There, while others pray you must just let the sermon pass,
On alert for an armed invader intruding, ready to cap his ass.

But Kens legislation isn’t the blessing that it seems,
Taking arms into Gods house is taking it to extremes,
Has Ken miss-heard His word, or skipped the Lesson?
Or is he knee deep in the service of Smith and Wesson?