In loving memory of Stephanie Brumlik
This one goes to the tune of a song from _The Gondoliers_,
by Gilbert and Sullivan (with apologies)
Rising early in the morning,
We rekindle all our ire,
Then our handsome forms adorning
In our workaday attire,
We embark without delay
On the duties of the day.
First we polish off some batches
Of political dispatches
From Saddam and other foreign terrorists —
Then, if business isn’t heavy,
We pile in our pick-up Chevy,
And go out to meet some new revisionists.
Then we probably review our new recruits —
They look marvelous in neo-Nazi suits!
Or receive with ceremonial elan
Our friend and colleague Robert Faurisson.
After that we call our ally
And good friend Moammar Khadaffi —
(It’s a rather nervous call – he’s a touchy little man) —
Then we sit on the veranda
And write hate-mail propaganda,
Using slogans from the handouts that we printed for the Klan.
Then in view of cravings inner,
We go down and order dinner;
Then we polish souvenirs from Herr Hitler’s Nazi state;
Spend an hour in telling lies
To young lads who could be spies,
And then saturate the networks with our litany of hate.
Oh, our critics may all say
That our brains are in decay,
Yet our duties are delightful and the privileges great;
But the culminating pleasure
That we treasure beyond measure
Is to saturate the networks with our litany of hate.
CHORUS: Oh, our critics all may say, etc.
After luncheon (making merry
On a burger, fries and sherry),
If we’ve nothing in particular to do,
We may make a proclamation
That the Jews own half the nation,
And conspire to do away with me and you.
Then we help a fellow member to be slick
With half-truths and lies and other rhetoric;
Or we have a secret, cosy little chat,
With that anti-semite Yassir Arafat.
Then we go and stand as sentry
At the hall (it’s private entry),
Marching hither, marching thither, up and down and to and fro,
While the meeting hall is ringing
With the unharmonious singing
Of some Nazi marching songs (they were thrilling long ago);
While the malcontents unstable
All drink beer around the table,
Toasting psychopathic friends. Then when it is very late,
With a pleasure that’s emphatic,
We retire to our attic,
And then saturate the networks with our litany of hate.
Oh, our critics may all say
That our brains are in decay,
Yet our duties are delightful and the privileges great;
But the culminating pleasure
That we treasure beyond measure
Is to saturate the networks with our litany of hate.
(Originally published to GEnie, Category 24, Topic 27, Message 109,
Tue Jan 26, 1993, POOH.BAH, at 01:08 EST )
Newsgroups: alt.revisionism,alt.skinheads,alt.politics.white-power
Subject: Best of Pooh Bah: The Litany of Hate
X-Remember: https://nizkor.org/
