The Fitzgerald Epic
We Begin In The Middle Of Things:
Sing , O Gods, for the anger of Fitzgerald, the sword of men favored by Justice, that brought multitude of ills upon the Bushbots.
Many a mucid soul did collapse into Hades Hellfire , and many a warbot risked becoming the delicate prey to jailyard dogs, of perditious stool pigeons, whilst the will of Justice fulfilled - since Fate has offered a conflict between the House of Bush, Lord of Bushbots and brilliant Fitzgerald, sword of Truth.
What Fate, which God, has set them together in bitter collision?
Justice's sword Fitzgerald, and Truth's Special Counsel Staff were angry with the House of Bush and so sent swarms of subpoenas upon them, plagueing them with anxiety and legal bills, because the Sons of the House of Bush had dishonered Fair Cooperation, a priest of Special Counsel.
Now Fair Cooperation, priest of Special Counsel, had come to Camp of The Bushbots to free his kidnapped daughter, Plame Story, and brought with him offers of Ease to bring back Plame Story to Justice, pleasing Truth:
Old Man Reality, an agent of Fair Cooperation, working for Truth's Special Counsel, bore a gift named Justice Plea, a scepter wreathed and wound with the gold promise of Special Counsel Staff, who strikes far and wide, and is besought by the Bushbots, but above all Two Sons of The House of Bush, Rove and Libby, Marshalls of The Bushbots.
"Sons of The House of Bush," he cried, "and all other strong-whiney Bushbots, may the gods who dwell in Crawford who grant you writ to plunder Saddam's City and a fair homecoming thereafter, give you pass, by freeing my daughter, Plame Story, and accept a gift named Justice Plea, giving honor to the Sword of Justice, who strikes far and wide, and whose name is Brave Fitzgerald!"
All the Bushbots whined in unison in favor of the idea that Old Man Reality, on behalf of a priest of the Special Counsel Staff named Fair Cooperation, be respected and his shining offers of Justice Plea be accepted;
Yet this pleased not the Dark Heart of the House of Bush son, Cheneymammon,
who spoke ill and drove away the strong orders upon him.
"That's Reality Based Nonsense, Old Man Reality" saith Cheneymammon, "let me not find ye tarrying about our Lawyers, nor let thou find thee, coming into the Camp of The Bushbots, we who change Reality at Whim. Your Silly old love of of Reality, Justice & Truth, the scepter of your golden promise, with it's inky wreath, is poor profit compared to my stinky cloak, my maledictions, my cabal. Plame Story is my captive. I will not free her! She shall grow old, stinky, and wrinkled in my house in Wyoming, very far from her Langley home, busing herself sewing wmd analysis with her loom, and offering me the ignoble companionship of terribly falsehood, in my gruesome bed. Now go away, no longer anger me, for it profits you not. Go and be safer'."
Cheneymammon spoke, but Old Man Reality, the agent for Special Counsel Staff, working for Truth, listened tearfully and with much sadness.
Old Man Reality cried in silence and obeyed the fearsome Cheneymammon, for the time being, and walked silently away from the murmuring Sea of Cable Commentary.
Old Man Reality began to pray, over and over, he prayed apart, to Justice, and to the lovely garlands of Truth, to whom Special Counsel owes his birth.
"Hear me," Old Man Reality cried, "O god of the Silver Legal Bow, that protects Fair Co-Operation, and Soldiers and Spies who protect the sanctity of Truth, Justice, and thy might of the American Way. If I have ever pleased your heart that I, Old Man Reality, helped build your Free Temple, which we call Constitutional Republic, if it ever pleased you, when it came to pass, O god of the Silver Legal Bow, that Old Man Reality offered up many, perhaps too many, sacrifices thru the ages. If it please you O god of the Silver Legal Bow, be willing to let your ferocious arrows make the Neocons pay for my tears shed!"