💾 Archived View for spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › holiday › noriega.txt captured on 2023-06-14 at 17:05:17.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
'Twas the Night Before Christmas '89 in Panama
Twas five days before Christmas
when all through the land,
fingers were itchy, and called for a stand.
The C-41's were loaded with care,
In hopes Noriega would be blind to this dare.
"A surgical strike would work fine and be quick."
said an advisor who briefly felt sick.
"Delta force could be in and out in a blink!"
Said another advisor as he mixed a drink.
"But the economy sucks, and we need a war!"
Cried Danny with glee as he entered the door.
"And with abortion out, there's too many folks,
so let's have a war, where are the Cokes?"
So George waved his hands in a mystical fashion,
and looked up from his desk with unusual passion,
"Peace doesn't work for corporate powers,
there's no profit in having Lockheed grow flowers.
Hughes stock has been dropping like a lead ball,
Let Manuel know we're coming,
Now dash away all!"
Panamanian Children
were snug in their beds,
Feliz Navidad played in their heads.
When up in the sky there arose such a clatter,
Children leapt from their beds,
when windows started to shatter.
Up to the mountains Manuel flew like a flash,
While the U.S. forces turned his HQ into trash.
The flash of the flares on the newfallen dead,
gave the luster of midday to pools of new red.
When what to wondering eyes did appear,
20,000 young troops armed with God and fresh fear
With a leader who slept, miles from the push,
a point of light by the name of George Bush.
More Rapid than eagles his Hugheys they came,
soundly thrashing the bad guys, playing their game.
While back in a hotel where civilians did stay,
protection was naught, ignored in this fray,
to protect Americans was the reason it's said,
but hundreds were wounded, nineteen were dead.
Manuel thumbed his nose at a great world power
he outsmarted George Bush in his finest hour.
So George figured out he couldn't catch this man
and put a price on his head, maybe someone else can.
So while people here still live in the street,
George spent our money with a lively beat
for nothing more than an unsuccessful fight
as he was heard to exclaim:
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!"
Why did George hunt this rat with a gun?
I know that a trap would not be as much fun,
or quite as fast, or show off his toys,
but what about those nineteen young boys?
Did they have time to question other available ways,
that would not have them missing their last Christmas by days.
Please don't tell him that there are drug dealers in Atlanta.
I live here, and don't want to be invaded.
Copyright 1989, by Robert Stottle
X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X
Another file downloaded from: NIRVANAnet(tm)
& the Temple of the Screaming Electron Jeff Hunter 510-935-5845
Rat Head Ratsnatcher 510-524-3649
Burn This Flag Zardoz 408-363-9766
realitycheck Poindexter Fortran 415-567-7043
Lies Unlimited Mick Freen 415-583-4102
Specializing in conversations, obscure information, high explosives,
arcane knowledge, political extremism, diversive sexuality,
insane speculation, and wild rumours. ALL-TEXT BBS SYSTEMS.
Full access for first-time callers. We don't want to know who you are,
where you live, or what your phone number is. We are not Big Brother.
"Raw Data for Raw Nerves"
X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X