... I just felt like rewriting the beginning of the Prologue to Richard III. Hey, at least I didn't call it "A Canticle For Lieberman"...
PS: Don't read too much into this one, guys. The link to the text I used to mutate this found here. Also, rilkefan gets a golf clap for tracking it down so quickly.
Lieberman: Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of Dean;
And all the polls that rained upon our cause
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our blogs bound with laudatory posts;
Our broken bats hung up for monuments;
Our stern reproofs chang'd to merry meetings,
Our tedious marches to joyful strippings.
Grim-toned Protest hath soothed his howling voice,
And now, instead of mounting great puppets
To fright the souls of fascist Rethuglicans,
He snickers loudly in left-wing chat threads
To the incestuous music of trackback links.
But I - that cannot speak of Wyclef, Jean,
Nor hope to pass for metrosexual -
I - that am centrist-stamp'd, and lack th'ability
To strut with style and flatter aimless kids -
I - that am curtail'd of Leftist endorsements,
Cheated of stature by dissembling colleagues,
Hawkish, Jewish, sent before my time
Into this breathing world a DINO born,
And that so wonkish and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I lecture them-
Why, I, in this calm before the shitstorm,
Have no delight to give away this time,
Because Bush is not stupid, alas -
Or unaware of our deficiencies.
And therefore, since I cannot prove a winner
To Democrats these bitter-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a hero
And save these idle twits despite themselves.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By idle bullet points, debates, and plans,
To set my brother Howard and Duke Gore
In deadly hate the one against the other;
And if King Howard be as much a dupe
As I am crafty, smooth and tenacious,
This day should Al Gore quickly be cast out -
All from a prophecy which says that Gore
Shall of the Democrats make them no more.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul. Here Howard comes.