Pass The Ammo

By Russ Vaughn via Old War Dogs

In 2003 they came to the Ball,
For some merry martial dancing;
Girlishly giggling in the Capitol hall,
Finding chords of war music entrancing.
Filled with excitement, throwing care to the wind,
DebiDems wanted Bush to be tough,
So the ladies signed on for a Ball with no end,
Without thinking it just might get rough.

But the dance card of war began to reveal,
That some people really were dying.
What? Death and violence are part of the deal?
That dumb cowboy must have been lying.
Lifting their hems, they ran for the doors,
Their hypocrisy blatantly stunning;
Shrieking defeat, they fled the dance floors,
Belles with no Balls, flat-out running.

Once hypocrite Hillary swirled the war floor,
Out-jingoing flat-footed Kerry;
Now Hil is shrilling she knew not the score,
Like whiney-voiced, tap-dancing Harry.
They went to the ball to advance their schemes,
They had planned, should the Martial Ball sour;
Lose the war, destroy Bush, fulfill their dreams,
They’d become the dance masters of power.

Hillary’s hip-hopping, Reid’s tapping like mad, club-footed Kerry’s still schlubbing,
And Pelosi in Damascus cornered Bashar for some old-fashioned, hot belly-rubbing.

If so… John Kerry is there for you. He cares about our soldiers over seas. And he wants to see you study to be smart, and not get stuck in irak. I’m just wondering if that applied to swift boat vets in Nam.

But I do appreciate Bush’s response, as well as Russ Vaughn’s Response.

Softly it whispers, parting air,
The edge so sharp, so glistening;
And as it strikes beneath your hair,
Is anyone still listening?
The sword of Islam makes the slice,
And your severed head just rolls;
You’ve made the final sacrifice,
Loyal to your Liberal goals.

When others warned of futures dire,
You made root cause excuses;
You turned your faces from the fire,
Pursued your liberal muses,
Ignoring death-fired feudal fires,
Luring fools to paradise,
Fanatics facing Islam’s spires,
Whose sword above you lies.

Back when we tried to warn you,
You snickered and you sneered;
Imperial fools our view untrue,
Dumb dupes, who only feared.
Your enlightenment would show us
The path to worldwide calm,
So Jihadis would not blow us
All to hell with Islam’s bomb.

And now these decades later,
When Sharia rules our land,
Where Christians, disbelievers,
Feel the wrath of Islam’s hand,
I feel compelled to ask you Libs,
As that blade zips out your light,
Bloodies your precious, do-good bibs,
Might you think it’s time we fight?

Russ Vaughn 9 29 06

Doesn’t that just give you the warm fuzzies deep down in yer gut? I know it does for me. There’s nothing as satisfying as freshly dead terrorists. Today is gonna be a good day for me. I’ll just enjoy this cup of joe, toast, and fox news reports.

Apparently, we dropped a 500 pound bomb where Zarqawi and seven of his filthy aides were hiding out. So I’d just like to congratulate the troops for a job well done. Go Team America!

Airstrike Video

This just in from Russ!

The Star Spangled Banter
(Zarqawi Version)

Oh say did you see that bright flash of light?
You so proudly we nailed at the twilight’s last gleaming…
Though we bet you saw stars on your very last night,
O’er the networks we watched your ass silently steaming…
And the rockets red glare spreading your ass everywhere,
Gave proof through the night that you’re no longer there…
Oh say does our banter now waft o’er your grave,
From the land of the free and the home of the brave…

Russ Vaughn

I wrote this over a year ago and it received modest distribution. It also earned me threats over a period of several weeks from a deranged lib who didn’t like my reasoning. I thought perhaps today would be a good day to send it out again. -Russ

Try crossing our southern border; try going the other way,
To enter Mexico illegally for an extended, unlawful stay.
Ignore immigration quotas, all their visas and their fees,
And quietly slip their border, anytime you damn well please.
Just sneak in past the policía, ignoring Mexican laws;
You’ve a desperate need to improve your lot; you have a righteous cause.
With Evil Bush in power now, destroying your liberal order,
You’ve a right to seek asylum, to trespass their northern border.

Once there, speak English only and demand it in their schools;
Forget assimilation; make Mexicanos change their rules.
What right do these Latinos have to make you learn their lingo?
Tell those churlish campesinos¹ you’ve the right to remain a gringo.
Move right on in, live your own way, ignore their cultural norms,
And demand the use of English on all their official forms.
Free healthcare is, of course, your right; let poor peones² pay,
For bilingual health providers throughout your border-bending stay.

Be sure to have a baby just as quickly as you can;
A citizen in the family helps legitimize your clan.
Then have another three or four, or maybe six or eight;
Don’t worry how you’ll feed them, just demand help from the state.
Paisanos³ paying taxes may resent your reckless breeding,
And protest loudly to their states about your gringo kids they’re feeding;
“But it’s just our way,” is your excuse, “Brought from our Yanquí land.”
How dare they question gringo ways they’ll never understand?

So defend your Anglo ethos; yield not your Yanquí essence;
And demand a driver’s license to legitimize your presence.
Just so you know what you’ve done wrong in case of policía stops,
Insist the Federales must teach English to all cops.
Make Mexicans accept your ways, make them your pliant fools;
Demand a Yanquí culture course be taught in all their schools.
So what you paid no taxes; when you’re an old gringo who will care?
File for your Seguridad Social, after all, you’re due your share.

If all this sounds preposterous, an irrational expectation,
Dems are demanding it for Illegals now in our multicultural nation.

Russ Vaughn

¹Rube, hick, unsophisticated person
²Laborer, worker
³Citizen

*******

And I have to throw this one in because it’s such a classic. -Chad

This is in response to WaPo (Washington Post) Weasel Tom Toles who put this cartoon out and angered the Army and the majority of Americans. Sock it to ‘em, Russ. I love the edge on this piece.

Wanna draw a soldier, Toles? Here I am,
Back with all four limbs from Vietnam.
You wanna draw pictures of fighting men?
Just tell me where and tell me when.
I’ll give you a pose to impress any viewer,
Your punk arty ass comatose in the sewer.
Like all of your kind you don’t have a clue
Who fightin’ men are and what fightin’ men do.

That you, your kind, you effete panty waists,
With Hollywood morals, metrosexual tastes,
Would taunt a brave warrior’s fight for life,
Mock his loss, his pain, deride his strife;
And use his sorrow to support your screed,
With no concern for the warrior’s need,
Tells me you are clueless of the facts of war,
You’re a cut ‘n run, spineless, media whore.

Go to Walter Reed hospital, smug Mr. Toles,
To see those you’ve mocked, grave injured souls
View wounded warriors with bodies so broken
And think again of the message you’ve spoken,
So abysmally ignorant, so smug condescending
That even most liberals won’t waste time defending.

So Toles it’s a fact that your most famous work
Will proclaim you forever as a pitiless jerk.

And Washington Post you’re as bad as this weasel
You gave him the forum, provided his easel.

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66

Checkout TCOveride, and Blackfive.

UPDATE »

Russ has received alot of feedback on this particular poem of his, which was denied being published on his home site due to the suggestion of violence in it. (comatose in the sewer) Here is a follow up response and a good read. Going To The Dogs.

Wikipedia: force multiplier - a military term referring to a factor that dramatically increases (hence multiplies) the combat-effectiveness of a given military force.

In Iraq an IED explodes,
An American soldier dies,
But that blast will grow as the media blow
It up before our eyes.
And trumpet to the watching world,
These fifth column falsifiers,
Like sheep they bleat we face defeat,
Our foe’s force multipliers.

Osama and his minions know,
In combat they can’t beat us;
So they hope and pray will come a day,
Our own media will defeat us.
Ignoring all the good we’ve done,
Liberals focus on the gore,
On losses mounting and body counting,
To prove we’ve lost this war.

They disgraced us once in Vietnam,
So now these leftists feel,
That again they’ll win with media spin,
And make America kneel.
But defeatists aren’t the only ones,
Learned lessons from the past;
Back then we swore we’d lose no more,
This time we’re standing fast.

The Internet’s exposed them,
As elitist media liars;
They stand unclothed and widely loathed,
Our foe’s force multipliers.
Some day when all our troops return,
With Iraq on freedom’s path,
The liberal elite who sought defeat,
May face some Righteous wrath.

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66

At last someone has heard our call
We, left behind, we left to fall.
Our views no longer meet the test
Of what is true and right and best.
Was good enough for our father founders,
But not for multicultural bounders,
Who snidely slide us to the side,
Who denigrate and sly deride,
Dismiss us who would celebrate,
Our beliefs, traditions on this date.

So now we’re truly grateful all,
For Speaker Hastert’s Protocol.
Which says for those who truly see
That giant spruce as a Christmas tree.
Not a tree for some vague holiday,
But a tree that truly lights our way,
And signifies for us a season,
That makes us ponder, makes us reason,
And recognizes a spiritual nation,
With a founding Christian orientation.

So Speaker Hastert speaks for me
When he says that is a Christmas Tree;
Not a tree for some vague holiday,
But a tree celebrates our Christian way;
A spirit we share ecumenically,
With Jews and Muslims totally,
And others who believe what ‘ere,
There’re beliefs enough for all to share.
We seek nothing more than God’s blessed life,
Sheltered from a world full of natural strife.

So thanks, Mr. Speaker, for your bold call,
We say God bless you, one and all.

Merry Christmas!

With a nod to Joseph Farah at World Net Daily

Jacques and his frères are surely weeping
Les pauvres immigrès have caught them sleeping,
Paysans revolt, their emotions churning,
What’s that odeur? Is Paris burning?
Within the banlieues there’s no joy
Among les jeunes who are sans emplois
What, take a job? Not the way to go;
We’d rather riot, torch your Peugeot.

Ah, Mother France you took us in,
Then left us with no way to win.
We’re not ègal, not garçons blanc,
We’ve no real chance to earn a franc.
No, what we are, we’re useful fools,
For leftist dreams, just brown-skinned tools.
So the Rèpublique’s butt is in a crack,
Give your merci to Jacques Chirac.

We’ll breed you into minority,
Till only mullahs hear your plea,
And Shari’a rules throughout your land,
A Frenchman steals, he’ll lose his hand.
Your licentious lifestyle, long extolled,
Will leave your women stoned, dead cold.
But everything will turn out fine,
In the Muslim Republic of Paristine.

Russ Vaughn

A mother’s anguish turns to ire,
Her liquid tears to spears of fire,
A useful fool for the liberal Left,
All hatred now, no more bereft.

The honor which her son embraced,
Is now dishonored, now disgraced,
As his mother stands atop his grave,
From there to shriek, from there to rave.

Yes, some are maddened in their grief,
And grief can surely change belief;
But this woman’s views, her family say,
Have long been held, long fore today,

Enabling Leftists to use her grieving,
For Moore deception, Moore deceiving.
I see this mother as a willing fool,
A useful Moorish Code Pinko tool.

As one who fought in another place,
I sorrow for this boy’s disgrace,
By a zealot mother grafting grief

Stealing his brave deeds, an honor thief,
Usurping his valor to claim her share,
Five minutes of fame in Media’s glare.
Her platform one you don’t see often:
A dishonored, flag-draped, soldier’s coffin.

I can hear Michael Moore muttering under his breath,
“Yeah, this was really a useful death.”

Russ Vaughn

Michelle Malkin notes, I believe with some error,
The politically correct are handmaidens of terror.
But handmaiden may be a too-mild appellation
For the worms at the core of the threat to our nation,
Who are far more concerned with our socialist purity,
Than commonsense measures for our nation’s security.
They’ll insist we don’t need anti-terrorist powers,
Till terror bombs blow down their own ivory towers.

More than mere handmaids in true servile sense,
They’re concubines of correctness in Jihadist tents,
Plying socialist sweetmeats to death-dealing masters,
Naively abetting more future disasters.
Respect our dark brothers say these houris beguiling,
No need for your paranoid, racist profiling.
Forget swarthy males from the East caused our losses,
We must share their pain, understand their root causes.

These handmaids ignore their own reasoning powers,
Like no grannies flew planes into those twin towers;
Or why we’re not shown after a terror event,
Any mug shots of men of Caucasian descent.
They insist we ignore facts as plain as their faces,
Like Islamo-fascists tend to be certain races.
No, Michelle, dear, I fear that handmaiden’s in error,
Simply too mild a term for these true whores for terror.

Russ Vaughn
Inspired by Michelle Malkin’s column.

The things most Liberal’s
Think they’re experts on,
Are usually the things,
They’ve never done.
While their rhetoric’s raucous,
Their record is poor
In suiting up for the game,
Or volunteering for war.
It’s so easy to think
You’re calling it right,
When you’re not on the field,
Or involved in the fight;
To piously protest
The spilling of blood,
While not one drop of yours
Lies mixed with the mud.

Oh yes it’s so easy
To be scolding and bold,
When you’ve not felt the fear
Makes the blood run ice cold.
Standing safe on the sidelines,
Do you never feel shame,
When you’re bawling at us
That we’re blowing the game?
Till you’ve carried the rifle,
Till you’ve handled the ball,
Just sit down and shut up
And let us make the call.
To you few Liberal warriors,
Who truly give us your best,
We wish your hearts and cojónes
Were shared by the rest.

Russ Vaughn
2d Bn, 327th Parachute Infantry Regiment
101st Airborne Division
Vietnam 65-66