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I wrote the poem below for some past democratic capitulation when they hadn't even bothered with the token resistance they put up this time.
Our system is profoundly broken when we have to scream and stamp our feet to get our elected representatives to actually represent us. Before we can fix it, we need to make these steaming sacks of shit in neckties fear us more than Wall Street or the corporations whose boards they hope to sit on when they leave Congress.
Ballad of the Dry Powder
When we fought King George, Colonel Harry Reid was sent to gaurd a mountain pass.
He had twenty men, the high ground, and a good view of all possible routes of attack,
but just one small keg of gunpowder for all their muskets blasts.
Each soldier would have powder to let just ten bullets fly.
General Washington gave thought to this when he bid them good-bye.
He said, "Take care boys, and keep your powder dry!"
He would soon regret those words for they led good men to die.
One night as Reid's boys were sitting around the campfire at their post up in the pass,
a grizzly bear got scent of them and into their camp crashed.
Johnny grabbed his musket and aimed at the bear's boulder of a head,
but before he squeezed the trigger, Col. Reid jumped up and said,
"Stand fast! Our bullets are for Redcoats, save our powder for them instead!"
Johnny held his fire and the bear tore out his throat.
As the bear began to eat him, the other soldiers grabbed their guns,
but Reid said, "Fight him if you must, but no bullets should let fly!
Washington has ordered we must keep our powder dry."
So they turned their muskets round and swatted with the butts,
they pulled their Bowie knives and they tried to slash his guts.
The bear just took the beating, but he would stand the cuts.
He turned on his attackers clawing flesh and chewing heads.
By the time that he was finished, half Reid's men were lying dead.
Reid thought it a victory for that keg was tight and dry.
Every bit of powder meant another Redcoat boy would die.
When the dead were buried, and the night lightened to day,
The watch saw Indians approaching with warpaint and sharpened blades.
Bob whispered to Reid, "They are fighting for the crown."
"That may be so," said Reid, "but when Redcoats come around,
we need every bit of powder to shoot each soldier down."
Bob was going to answer when a bullet hit his lung.
The Indians weren't as stingy with their own powder drum.
Harry took the powder and he began to run.
Half his men were killed again,
just five left from when he had begun.
"Now we can fight," he said.
"We have plenty for each gun."
As the day was fading and they lay up there in wait,
a half dozen Redcoats approached them, lined up perfect in their sights.
Tom pulled back his hammer and almost fired a shot,
but Harry grabbed his barrel and said this squad need not be fought.
"A bigger army's coming, and no powder can be lost."
"But if we all are dead, then who will fire the shot?"
Tom tried to wrest rifle, but in the struggle it went off.
The Redcoats were upon them, and then all five were caught.
While he tied their hands, the British sargeant asked why they hadn't fired a shot.
Harry Reid said nice and loudly, "I cannot tell a lie,
Gen. Washington himself told me to keep my powder dry."
"But if you shot the bear, your men would have lived to fight.
And if you shot the Indians, and put a bullet in my eye,
you could have stole our powder and have more to be kept dry."
The soldier took his bayonet, and Harry had to die.
Then he killed the others,but man he told to fly,
and take with him the powder keg
with Reid's head in it to keep the powder dry.
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