Senator Lott was under unimaginable pressure and yet behaved like a Southern gentleman. During the hundredth birthday celebration of Senator Shawm Torment, the sum of whose age and the IQ of his South Carolina supporters adds up to a perfect hundred, Mr. Lott had a forceful desire to expel air from his body. Considering that the said air could lead to an offensive sound and due to the fact that it had been confined to the naturally putrid organs of his body, would probably foul the atmosphere, he indulged in a heroic attempt to be continent. It is a tribute to the power of his sphincter that he resisted successfully, better than Leonidas in stemming this onslaught of Southern grease. Unfortunately, he was betrayed by a weak brain, which became a shameful accomplice to this foul petard. The foul petard having failed to overcome the resistance of his brave sphincter, then reversed direction and escaped through his mouth and purely due to the reflex action of his voice mechanisms revealed the inner thoughts and inclinations of his brain which converted the foul air into words. Inadvertently and not for the first time, he made the blunder of publicly admitting his support for segregationist attitudes by proclaiming that he was proud that Mississippi voted for this relic of a shameful past, when the fossil ran as a presidential candidate. Segregation was the only platform of the then candidate from the state that still flies the Confederate flag from the grounds of its Capitol.
The Senate Democratic leader would have proposed him for the Nobel Peace Prize, but the highly selective Norwegian Committee rejected the idea on the grounds that foul language alone is not sufficient and Mr. Lott lacked the accomplishment of direct personal responsibility for massacres in Korea, Chile, Vietnam, Lebanon, Israel, Palestine, Egypt or other such places, which is essential for actually being awarded the prize. Mere voting for the destruction of Soddom or turning away from pillars of basalt would not qualify him for the Nobel Prize. They told him to cheer up and suggested consideration for a Medal by the President, or sundry commercials for Coca-cola, Viagra, travel, suitcases or throwing up on the Japanese for a fee of millions.
Fortunately the brouhaha is over. The President immediately remarked that he had full faith in Lott's ability to bring about piss and acrimony between the races. The Democrats said, racist boys will be racist boys and in any case Mr. Lott was just playing Karaoke. A prominent and pushy African American expressed his annoyance at these disturbances, which distracted him from important ongoing affairs. Mr. Lott retracted some of his words and attributed the whole episode to foot-n-mouth disease which he had acquired by embracing the president's policies, which were indecisive about vaccination and quarantine for Senators and other farm animals feeding from the public trough in Gomorrah! So dear citizens, do not despair. You will still stand a chance of catching a glimpse of Trotting Lott, when you visit the National Zoo. It takes more than one error to drive the hardy senatorial species to its final resting place of electoral extinction!
An Elegy for an Op-ed Writer
There was this lass called Maureen Dowd
Who proclaimed the truth boldly 'n loud.
Arabia put her fiery head in black shroud
And was for lack of spirit, she was cowed.
With feet firmly planted on native earth,
She regained her charm, wit and mirth
And galloped fearlessly in her wagon
Ready to joust with Henry, the dragon.
Said Henry, 'My name maybe Kissing'er,
But you touch the burr in my posterior,
I will tell my buddy, the Sultan burger,
He'll let the Irish turgor 'n air out of yer.
Little do you know that your fate is writ,
You damned jabbering chattering nitwit
Your rants, chants, nor any vicious curse
Can hurt me, the Master of this Universe.'
Never mind colleen, you'll lose your job
And homeless, with grief can only sob,
And having lost fame, fortune and all
A bag lady, roam the Washington Mall.
Ignored by all those fat cats in spats,
Us common little rats will tip our hats.
Just to be regaled by your true tales
Stand by you, stoutly through all ails!
A Pillar of the Establishment
There was this Lot from Gomorrah
Who exclaimed to himself begorrah!
I am truly a Senator of high status,
I don't care if it is solely from flatus.
I am from the low down Mississippi
Batty, bigoted racist, but no hippie
We're for the segregationist Strom
No black rights where we come from.
Then the press gave him a nasty kick
And even the dull Bush began to prick.
All the dirty hot air went out of Trent
Unusually this time from a cleaner vent.
' Shucks I was just whistling Dixie,
And pretending to be a white Pixy.
I never meant none, any real harm,
I treat all slaves well on my farm.'
A host of buddies all of like mind
Hemmed, hollered, stood behind
To prop up the fallen fellow solon
And loudly cheered thru the colon
'There but for grace of god go we,
For that is how our world we see
So we stifle our words with a cough
And keep gorging at your trough.