Believe it or not, parody takes work! As a result, we got fewer entries for this edition, but the quality is high. For that reason, I’m not going to break the winners down by place, but merely describe them and link to them.
Not surprisingly, Jolted Joe Lieberman was the subject of number of our entries and winners. One is a sad ballad by Madeline Begun Kane. Her “The Ballad of Joementum Joe Lieberman” should be sung to the tune of “Danny Boy.”
Then there is “DINO Joe” from Ed Drone, who makes me want to wax nostalgic about Hank Williams. The first one, not his son or grandson.
We certainly couldn’t resist Limerick Savant’s “Political Kiss of Death,” another “stab” at poor old Joe. Joementum: the gift that keeps on giving.
Speaking of dinosaurs… that other one, the Hummer, also tipped the scales sufficiently. The Ridger is with us again, presenting “The Fab Fourwheels Medley Celebrating The New Hummer Campaign.” There’s more than a little bit of “Yellow Submarine” (as you might guess from the title) going on here.
Speaking of the Fab Four, Kiwi Fruit offers “The Continuing Story of Hunkerdown Dick“–followed by “Sympathy for the Dick.”
From the vice to the… er, head of vice: Greensmile offers “A Skeleton in Bush’s Closet Speaks,” with apologies to Robert Frost.
Only one for W. wouldn’t be enough. Reyonthehill saves us from that sad fate with “Bush, he rode; Bush, he fell.” With pictures!
Speaking of pictures, taking on a movie instead of a poem or song, thedoodabides puts “Dubithy” over the rainbow in “The Wizard of Oil.”
Unwilling to provide just one, cskendrick provides what really is parody central with links to a strong line of original parody poetry.
I will leave you with my latest parody, one that was inspired by a Daily Kos conversation on the day I posted the call for entries:
Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blogofascist
(With Apologies to) Wallace Stevens
Among twenty leftist websites,
The only moving thing
Was the eye of the blogofascist.
I was of three minds,
Like a diary
In which there are three blogofascists.
The blogofascist whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
A man and a woman
A man and a woman and a blogofascist
I do not know which to prefer,
The beauty of inflections
Or the beauty of innuendoes,
The blogofascist writing
Or just after.
Idiocy filled the long window
With barbaric gas.
The shadow of the blogofascist
Crossed it, to and fro.
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause.
O thin men of the right,
Why do you imagine golden birds?
Do you not see how the blogofascist
Walks away with the feet
Of the women about you?
I know noble accents
And lucid, inescapable rhythms;
But I know, too,
That the blogofascist is involved
In what I know.
When the blogofascist dropped out of sight,
It marked the edge
Of one of many circles.
At the sight of blogofascists
Typing in a green light,
Even the bawds of euphony
Would cry out sharply.
Joe rode over Connecticut
In a glass coach.
Once, a fear pierced him,
In that he mistook
The shadow of his equipage
The river is moving.
The blogofascists must be writing.
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blogofascists sat
In the catbird seat.
(Dedicated to the dKos diarist Meteor Blades)