While I am a world renowned genius, I can't add to the political intuitiveness of many of the DKos diarists. Repetition is painful here, I know, however, I have determined that no one else has published a mock Middle English free verse analysis of our latest political ooopsie.
Please feel free to provide your own brilliance in prose or verse.
A Tale
Whan that Hillarye with her surrogates,
The droughte of votes hath changed all the bets,
They trouncen on the Reverend Wright,
Ond thinken that smears can proven might,
But lies be showen on the Youess Tubes,
That maken her ond friendes looken liken rubes,
What where they thinken whan suche bullshite’s clear,
Whan none of snipers fire we pilgrimes coulda hear?
Those auto-delagates be screaming nowe,
"What Ho? We canne no longer to her kowtow!
These fooles must thinke a turnipe cart we jumped,
Ond threats of 'Judas!' she thinks our votes have trumped."
The telephones be ringun offe the hookes,
"WTF? We’ve looken at her bookes!"
Whan desperation reares his ugly head,
Most see that candidacie be dead.
We longen to return to what is sane,
Ond haven Obama beat McCain.
Whan that Hillarye with her surrogates,
Concede and finally pay their debtes,
The pathe will cleare, ond divisione be gone
Thus, Barack the Young will beaten Old John.