A Poem

-I am not here today to critique the WH scheduling problems, the fact pp blinked and is going to address a joint session of congress on the 8th day of September to give a campaign speech, that new unemployment filings are 409,000 or that last week's figure was revised upward and... I am depressed enough.
-Last night while watching "America's Got Talent"...which I thought, except for the quest Brit lady, sucked big time. I was cruising through a book called "The Notes" by President Reagan. It comprised a series of notes and comments compiled from his private collection of individuals of note and from varing times. I am not into poetry per se, but if Reagon recalled it, its ok with me. The poem doesn't have an author, nor a date in time, however it fits well into current events.

-It goes like this:

His horse went dead & his mule went lame,
And he lost 6 cows in a poker game.
Then a hurricane came on a summer's day
And blew the house where he lived away
An earthquake came when that was gone
And swallowed the land that the house stood on
And then the tax collector came around
& charged him with the hole in the ground.

While no animals are involved in current affairs, if LDP are excluded. The sequence of events are reversed from last week's rightcoast mess, but close enough. One thing is certain to be on spot... the tax collector is coming to call on following September eve- post Simi Valley's Presidentional Debate.