Wiretapping Christmas

Well they let the cat out of the bag. Are you one of the many to be wiretapped? Daughter #3 did a report a few months ago for school. The subject was Afghanistan. She made a great flour and salt dough relief map on a piece of plywood. She got an A, especially for the little flags that identified unique geographical features. Through the same ISP connection the ever wonderful Ms. 8CH was in communication with the Friends Select Committee about helping find peace in the world. Uh oh, that seems like a bad combination to me. On top of this we live squarely on the Reading Prong (see No Darn Radon post). We are being infiltrated from both ends. Maybe it would be easier if I confessed right here. NSA , do you read blogs? Let me tell you, D3 (code name for daughter number 3) has no idea where Osama is hiding, but after about a week there were so many cracks in the dried dough map; it could be anywhere. In fact the map suffered in real time with the earthquakes. He could have built an underground bunker in one of the fissures. A Crack House. Osama's Crack House. It could have one of those rope bucket things spanning across the top with a squeaky pulley thing. all of his number twos (no not that, his second in commands) would communicate with him that way and send him falafel and stuff. NSA, pass this on, find the quake fissure with a squeaky pulley over it.

So Bush is angry that someone spilled the beans. Especially so close to the holidays. Why can't we all just get along? If they tap our phones we should get something in return, like coupons for fast food. It would seem like a great trade until we started using them and then the fat and bad stuff in that food would kill us and that would wrap the whole thing up for King George ( Sen. Russell Feingold, D-Wis., called him this in an interview with The Associated Press).

Golly Good King Dubya

Good King Dubya looked out,
On the spies all scheming,
When the snow lay round about,
Deep and crisp and even;
Brightly shone the moon that night,
Tho' the frost was cruel,
When a tall man came in sight,
Gath'ring winter fuel.

"Hither, Dick, and stand by me,
If thou know'st it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the forest fence,
In the land of Afghan."

Get me phones and get me wires
Get me earphones plenty
Someone here must know this guy
All liberals are so friendly
Tap their phones and listen in
For a word like "end it"
Follow them around the town
While I preach and defend it