Quirk, Part 3

Gilbert & Sussivan again– the Nightmare Song, from Iolanthe.  Not exactly, but inspired by.  That, and the nightmare we know as the internet.

In the near-recent past
If your hatred was vast
You could sit there and plot in your basement
You were perfectly free
Where nobody could see
You, and ask what the look on your face meant.
You would sit there and stew
As you muddled things through
And get caught up in impotent rages
You could hiss, you could vent;
Though it’s not their intent,
Still, basements make pretty good cages
You could keep to yourself
As you fill up your shelf
With the books that would fuel your conspiracy
But you’re only one man
And your beautiful plan
You keep hidden so no one will hear or see
But technology changed
So the warped and deranged
With a desktop computer and modem
Could now easily find
Those who write the same kind
Of conspiracy screeds and upload ’em
And they soon became lords
Of their bulletin boards
Or their chatrooms or newsgroups or forums
Where they found one another
And brother to brother
They gathered together in quorums
Now these like-minded chaps
With their keyboards in laps
Found a comfort, a sort of community
When they set to their tasks
Anonymity masks
Them, and blather they will, with impunity
Their connection is fast
So their knowledge is vast
In the internet age, they’re in heaven
With definitive proof
Of the moon-landing spoof
And how Bush was behind 9/11
Or how giving vaccines
To the populace, means
That the government’s playing the villain
They’re in league with Big Pharma,
So sound the alarm, a
Concern since they “found” penicillin
And the Kennedy plot
With a gunman who shot,
In a story that’s kept from the masses
Just a C.I.A. lackey
They think it was Jackie,
Who’s free now to marry Onassis
And the people all laughed
When an alien craft
Was a weather balloon, though a nifty one
But a cover-up works
Now they look like they’re jerks
When they talk about area fifty-one
But this corkscrewing ride
Has a sinister side
When the groups may be formed around hatred
Where their heads are all filled
With a view that’s distilled
Cos they read all the stuff that their mate read
Now there’s one group of hacks
Who are blaming the blacks
For the changes they see in society
While another sees gays
And their sodomite ways
As a blow to the nation’s propriety
Yet another will frown
If a person is brown
Whether wetback or Ay-rab, you lose
And additional groups
Hate the government’s troops
Or the faithful old standby, the Jews.
Now you’ve written a site
Where you post what you write
Of the citizenship of Obama
And there’s hate in your views
And the language you use
You would never repeat to your mamma
You are joined by your friends
And the fun never ends
As you’re lost in the thrill of debating
You’re exchanging your views
And deciding on who’s
Is the group most deserving of hating
If you needed a clue
I could point back to you
As I’m reaching the end of this ditty
I’ll admit the appeal,
But the way that I feel?
It’s not so much hatred… as pity.

For some reason, I feel compelled to link to this post, a call for the institutionalization of my greatest fan–the one person who has visited my site more than any other, and has left more comments than any other. No one is more deserving.


  1. Freerefill says

    Ol’ David Mabus
    Is causing a fuss
    By acting out his superstition

    Ignoring the threat
    He’ll help us out yet
    By ticking one up his petition

  2. PoxyHowzes says

    I hope you’ll continue G&S with some verses *Marcus* Bachman might sing to “One of Us will Be a Queen” from Gondoliers.

    Even aside from the conundrum of who (or which) would be Queen, the verses have an interesting “hiccup” rhythm that Gilbert, as I recall, did not fully carry out. DC could obviously do better!

    …with a crown instead *of a hat* on her head…
    …and a milk-white horse as *a matter of* course…
    …with endless stocks *of beautiful* frocks… (now often rendered “designer” frocks).

    I can supply Gilbertian text if necessary.

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