Jack wrote this in September, 2005, after the previous post.
I figured on blogging tonight to tell you blog readers a few anecdotes about some interesting things happening in Palomas, Mexico, Columbus, New Mexico, Deming, and points northward…. gas prices, talk overheard in restaurants about hurricane victims, border guard stuff, all manner of scintillating monologue to excite opinion and pondering.
But now I see I’m gonna have to say a few words about Communists, instead.
From May, 1917, until 1990, the US spent unimaginable treasure, countless lives, stupendous energy ‘saving the world’ from Communism, seeing them behind every tree and bush. Meanwhile, the Communists collapsed under their own weight, packed their tents and went home.
In America, the Communists of Marx and Engels today call themselves Democrats and Republicans. Not Greens.
That dog won’t hunt anymore. At least not with me. If someone else wants to fret about pinkos, someone else will have to.
For me, here’s the great Communist threat to America:
A schoolmarmish lady in Zuni
Had canines subversive and loony;
Her Communist felines
Made neighborhood beelines
With doctrines both outworn and puny.
The KGB cat was a lean
And speckled-nosed beauty serene
In appearance alone
For her countenance shown
Multi-faceted plots as she preened.
Her Weathercat history was tops:
She sprayed on dozens of cops
With a Commie aroma
But joined Sertoma
Cavorting with phonies and fops.
The ringleader hound was a red
And curly haired rascal it.s said
Whose Trotskyish leanings
And Maoish gleanings
Were pondered curled up on the bed.
Princess Redfeather, they tells
Of this curly red bitch of the cells,
Forsook her fine lineage
To sip of the vintage
of Lenin, and Gulags and hells.
The worst of the felines, Bearboy:
Striped and cross-eyed and coy;
Had claws that could tweak
Bourgeois carpet, and bedspread, with joy.
The Uncle-Tom dog of the hut
Was Ernie, the gray-bearded mutt;
Dog-tired, and dogmatic,
dog-eared dialectic and glut..
The Uncle-Tom dog she called Ernie
Began as a dog-pound attorney
Commuted from gassing
He pondered in passing
Discretion.s demand for a journey.
A calico hound lying dormant,
Most likely a police informant:
A capitalist clown
Took his food lying down
Resisting the commie allurement.
The Stalinish kittenish spies
Spread foment and torment and lies
To Indian curs
And mutts that were hers
And War-Gods high up on the rise.
Princess and Ernie and, Spot,
And Chester, the narc-dog; the lot:
For half a piaster
Would bring a disaster
To Zuni, once called Camelot
From Poems of the New Old West
Copyright 2002, Jack Purcell
Let this be a lesson. Don’t try to get me talking about Communists.