-Caveat Lector- A Militia Man's Christmas by Santa Zog 'Twas the night before Christmas, and in the condominium Not a patriot was stirring, not even a Davidian. The duffels were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that Mark from Michigan soon would be there; The troops were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Ruby Ridge danced in their heads; And Linda in her camos and I in my helmet, Had just settled down to sleep for a bit, When out on the lawn there arose such a clamor, I grabbed a revolver and pulled back the hammer. Away to the window I flew to defend My home from the ravenous liberal fiends. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Made it seem like the body of Janet Reno. When, what through my wandering scope should appear, But a miniature troop-carrier, complete with full gear, With a fatigue-clad driver, so lively and sharp, I knew 'twas from Michigan--the guy they called Mark. More rapid than jack-booted thugs did he come, And he ranted and raved and at the mouth he did foam. "Now, U.N.! Now, Clinton! Now Brady and Schroeder! "On, Boutros! On, Hillary! On, New World Order! To the compound at Waco! To the OKC faxes! Now dash away! dash away, all income taxes!" Like liberals, wanting to have one-world rule, At the thought of banning our guns do so drool, So too did Mr. Koernke drive to our door Avoiding the land mines I'd placed there before. And then, in a twinkling, I saw that he'd drawn A Chinese assault weapon right there on my lawn. As I readied a grenade and was turning around, With a fiery cascade, he shot my door down. He was dressed all in green from his cap to his trousers And his clothes were all tarnished with reloading powder. Three Sam Brownes full of ammo were slung on his back, And he looked like Attila getting ready to sack. His eyes--how they twinkled! His mustache how Nazi! His cheeks were like roses, his demeanor so ROTC! His droll little mouth was all set to grin As if a microchip had been emplanted within. The stock of his AK he gripped tight with care As a thin whisp of smoke rose from it through the air. He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when his videos were played on the telly. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old sort, The kind that would kill government agents for sport. A wink of his eye and a twist of his hairs Suggested to me there was no light on upstairs. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work And rearmed all our weapons; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger on his safety release, He reentered the confines of his great armored beast. He turned on the engine and away did he speed, Following street signs that had been secretly keyed. But I heard him exclaim, ere he turned round the corner, "God bless the Republic, and Death to the New World Order!" ______________________________________________ FREE Personalized Email at Mail.com Sign up at http://www.mail.com?sr=mc.mk.mcm.tag001 DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion and informational exchange list. Proselyzting propagandic screeds are not allowed. Substance—not soapboxing! These are sordid matters and 'conspiracy theory', with its many half-truths, misdirections and outright frauds is used politically by different groups with major and minor effects spread throughout the spectrum of time and thought. That being said, CTRL gives no endorsement to the validity of posts, and always suggests to readers; be wary of what you read. CTRL gives no credeence to Holocaust denial and nazi's need not apply. Let us please be civil and as always, Caveat Lector. ======================================================================== Archives Available at: http://home.ease.lsoft.com/archives/CTRL.html http:[EMAIL PROTECTED]/ ======================================================================== To subscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SUBSCRIBE CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] To UNsubscribe to Conspiracy Theory Research List[CTRL] send email: SIGNOFF CTRL [to:] [EMAIL PROTECTED] Om
