Dear Friends,
Better run that thought by the all-knowing censor,
There may be issues that require a magic tensor,
Wrongspeak a heinous crime,
Wrongthink crosses the line,
And soon any speech at all will require licensure.
The mechanical loom would starve the masses,
Labor would be lost the collapse of classes,
It didn’t work out that way,
Lives improve to this day,
But the solution has led to famine, war, and carcasses.
The warmongers are on the prowl,
Keeping the hours of an owl,
Whenever they show,
One thing we know,
Is they’re up to something foul.
Invaders crossing in small boats are just great,
But those UK fishermen are really bad mate,
Harvesting from the seas,
To feed humanity’s needs,
So your fishermen and tables will have to wait.
The administrative state has become a flam and a flim,
Chances of getting the truth are getting ever more slim,
Despotism and manipulation are wed,
And just as Machiavelli said,
Have a patsy do your evil for you, then get rid of him.
Sincerely,
John Pepin
