Have a Rummy Christmas
A Rumsfeld Christmas Song
Snowflakes roasting on an open fire,
Rummy's in his final throes,
Useless memos being fed to the pyre,
Hosannas sung by GI Joes.
Everybody knows the voters said you have to go,
Iraq has got to be made right,
Have a blast making fabulous dough,
I'm sure the Boards will love your spite.
We know that Gate's on his way,
He's got the exit strategy for which we've prayed.
All those in uniform will hardly cry,
They long ago saw past the 'oh goodness my.'
And so I'm firing this joyful shot,
At Rummy and his lousy crew,
We'll still uncover many crimes, many ways,
But the world is safer 'cause you're through.
We know that Gate's is on his way,
He's going to find the place in Rummy disarray,
The troops may be gung-ho but they are fried,
Let's hope and pray the Green Zone's days are equally nigh.
And so I offer up this borrowed phrase,
The military's black and blue,
You point your finger everywhere, every way,
The blame however falls on you.
By William M. Arkin of the Washington Post
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