Roman Wall Blues

Apropos of absolutely nothing, Nice Work offers you this nice little bit of doggerel from the master, W.H. Auden.

Roman Wall Blues

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I’ve lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I’m a Wall soldier, I don’t know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl’s in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don’t like his manners, I don’t like his face.

Piso’s a Christian, he worships a fish;
There’d be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I’m a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

– W.H. Auden

Don’t Blame Henry Waxman on Us

Hey, we only just got here, so you can’t blame Representive Henry Waxman (D-CA) on us. I suppose you can blame Senator Barack Obama on us, since we are lately citizens of Illinois, but, c’mon, did the voters of Illinois really have anything to do with his ascension to office? Talk about “selected not elected!”

Yesterday we cranked up the jalopy and went sporting around some faugh-faugh neighborhoods.  We lost count of the mansions we passed — and I don’t mean “McMansions”; I mean honest-to-gosh “Walk this way, sir” mansions — proudly sporting Obama/Biden signs upon their fresh-from-the-dry-cleaners lawns. Golly! What are the residents thinking? Will they be providing the Sabatier cutlery for the guillotines?

Well, the good news is now that we’ve moved to the 30th Congressional District of California our votes will cancel out at least three cast by whichever movies stars are still residing here after Hollywood’s mass exodus in 2004 to Canada.