"When they allow a talk show host to play them like a two-dollar banjo, they demonstrate what kind of backbone they'll bring to the job later on, if we elect them. After they get elected will they continue to allow Jeff Crank to put a nickel in them and wind them up every Saturday morning?"

Barry Noreen, former columnist, Colorado Springs Gazette

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

THE SALTY OLD QUEEN OF THE SEA



BY ROBERT HARKINS JD


Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen 


Friendly old girl of a town.


'Neath her tavern light 


On this merry night 


Let us clink and drink one down. 


To wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen 


Salty old queen of the sea 


Once I sailed away 


But I'm home today 


Singing Copenhagen,

wonderful, wonderful 


Copenhagen for me[1]

How wonderful, wonderful it was to see the enormous carbon footprint worked into the Copenhagen snow, the long, black, stately, gas-guzzling limousines, the slick private carbon scattering jets, the dignified, too well-fed, delegates in tight, dark suits, conspirators all, walking, hand in hand, with hangers-on, scientific lunatics, Communists and friends of the Left’s most popular assassin Che Guevara. We see them well met upon a winter’s night in Denmark, saints every one, so they say, arrived to save the earth from us. Tell us Shakespeare old friend, who was it cried havoc and let loose these dogs of war to junket north to Denmark?

Well, there they were in the frigid Copenhagen night, snow blowing hard and cold, shivering, cowering behind barricades raised against mean protesters, short, tall, raucous, ugly or even worse, politically incorrect. Indeed, House Speaker, Nancy Pelosi, aka Madame Thérèse Defarge, in the Revolution’s name, shut the mouth of Republican Senators and Congressmen who thought naively they would, like others, have their say. So, from the clouds of tear gas, rising above the cadent squeals of flag waving trash, the Danish cops wielding clubs thumped the heads of Climate Skeptics: Flat-Earthers, and Scandal Mongers, and those who allege the moon landing was a porno skit Al Gore directed from a Tijuana jail.

A thousand protesters, colorfully draped, raised one discordant voice: Conservatives protested the use of loaded dice upon which global warming was conjured in an orgy of hypothetical lunacy. Greenies, enraged, protested the arrogance of men and women who would enlarge man’s earthy carbon footprint by the intimacy of love, and the rearing of children. Communists waived red flags adorned with the gold hammer and sickle. They chanted hymnals in protest of Amerika’s Capitalism, Imperialism, cruelty to furred animals and whatever. A lonely man, bemused, decked out in a polar bear suit, silent mostly, protested something or other; we know not what.

Finally, the President of the United States appeared, the very One, come to save civilization, and terrified little girls[2] from crushing death, from smoking fissures which—failing a serious financial investment to reduce her tiny carbon footprint— would open ravenously beneath her feet. He had arrived. There was nothing now to fear; for it is an article of delegate faith that the President will save us from seas that, if allowed to rise, will submerge New York State, Miami Beach, New Jersey and yes, Colorado. Breathe easy then, for He will rest a calming hand upon the waters of the deep. He will save us from starvation as hurricane winds savage the fertile soil of the good earth. He will save us from thirsty death as fresh water boils away in the global heat.

The President’s carbon footprint plan, as we know too well, will cost far more money than exists among all the peoples of the earth. After all, he’s spent that much already, not even counting the Affordable Health Care Plan. Even so, the President believes, as only a visionary free of original sin believes, that we Americans, as sorry as we are, are up to the task. All that need be done is that we write a check say for four or five trillion bucks to repair the damage we alone have wrecked upon an innocent planet. Fortunately our government has a printing press and is negotiating big loans with the few countries still moronic enough to loan it money.

The delegates to Copenhagen are of one ambient faith: the President, will save the earth, the economy and world government, will protect human health and happiness, prosperity and peace, will end war, disease and depredation, will guarantee to all a decent standard of living, a plasma T.V., a shiny new car and for those of us who would marry—Yes! He will compel an acceptable spouse to marry us.

Finally, the President will bring to justice the American people. In the trashing of really big bucks, that is to say, in an “investment” of trillions, in the decent nations, he will expiate the bloody stain of American guilt that festers in their quaint belief in Freedom, Pursuit of Happiness, Art, Science, Religion, and the Celebration of Human Dignity.

Americans therefore—the President excepted because he was a tiny tot at the time— must pay up, for the working of their willful sins upon Saddam’s Iraq, Hirohito’s Japan, Leopold and Hitler’s Germany, Mussolini’s Italy, a Communist Soviet State, (now so much trash in the dustbin of history), a genocidal Serbia, now quiet, and a South Korea, by American blood and honor, restored to freedom and made proof against a North Korean maniac.

But who strangely got the loudest applause? It was the Red Commie Chavez who, in the name of Karl Marx, prophesied the demise of democracies, constitutions and free economies.

One could say, Mr. President, that a ghost is haunting Copenhagen, to paraphrase Karl Marx, the great Karl Marx, a ghost is haunting the streets of Copenhagen, and I think that ghost walks silently through this room, walking around among us, through the halls, out below, it rises, this ghost is a terrible ghost almost nobody wants to mention it: Capitalism is the ghost, almost nobody wants to mention it. It’s capitalism, the people roar, out there, hear them.…Socialism, the other ghost Karl Marx spoke about, which walks here too, rather it is like a counter-ghost. Socialism, this is the direction, this is the path to save the planet, I don’t have the least doubt[3].

But here this friends; not all delegates were ideologues committed to the reduction of carbon footprints and the destruction of human freedoms. There at Copenhagen were the good old girls or shall we call them, “Salty Old Queens of the Sea” who offered to take unto their romantic embrace all men in Copenhagen, every one, to give them peace, joy, short and quick, to give them transient love at no charge. Why their sacrifice? World peace? An end to global warming? Maybe not. It may be that the Salty Old Queens were delegates to Copenhagen just as were the sleek, shiny, and too well fed people who arrived by jet and limousine. It may be they were all of one profession and one lascivious mind: to throw a good, old-fashioned party for the boys.

What do you think?



[1] Author Frank Loesser, 1910-1969.

[2] A movie presentation apparently sponsored by the UN.

[3] Heritage Foundation, Morning Bell, December 18, 2009

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