The Song of the Mainstream Media

His breasts are fair

His breasts are fair

Being something of an amateur archaeologist I love finding long lost items, be they parchment scrolls or relics.  During one of my excursions I came across an old document, written in Latin (then the language of the elite).  I have translated it into English for my readers to peruse.

I now present to you The Song of the Mainstream Media (May God have mercy on us all).

Chapter One

Let Barack kiss me with the kiss of his mouth:  for thy breasts are better than wine.

Draw me Barack:  we will run after thee to the odor of thy ointments (for thou workest out much often).  Barack hath brought me into his storerooms:  we will be glad and rejoice in thee, remembering thy breasts more than wine:  the righteous (and by that I mean the Democrats) love thee.

Barack is black but beautiful.  For we lovest black people not like racist republicans.

Shew me, O thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou liest in midday, lest I wander after another Democrat who cannot satisfy me like  you.

Thy cheeks are beautiful as the turtledove’s, thy neck as jewels, thy constitutional acumen unsurpassed.

While Barack was at his repose, my spikenard sent forth the odor thereof.  (Spikenard still being legal).

My love Barack shall abide between my breasts (for same sex marriage is now legal.)

Behold thou art fair, O my love Barack, behold thou art fair, thy eyes are as those of doves (for Democrats love peace.)

Behold thou are fair, my beloved Barack, and comely.  Our bed is flourishing with manly love.

Chapter Two

As the apple tree among the trees of the woods, so is my beloved Barack.  I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired: and his fruit was sweet to my palate.

His left hand is under my head, and his right hand shall embrace me (oh god I’m giddy).

The voice of my beloved, behold he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping over the hills, for he hath power to lower sea levels.

My beloved Barack is like a roe,

My beloved is like a roe or  a young hart

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart

 or a young hart.  

Behold my beloved speaketh to me:  Arise, make haste, and report to the American people what I tell you.

For winter is now past, the rain is over and gone.  Global warming is destroying the planet.

Chapter Three

In my bed by night I sought him who my soul loveth:  I sought him and found him not.

I will arise and go into the city:  in the streets and the broad ways i will seek him whom my soul loveth.  I might even stop by a bar.  Or two.

I found him who my soul loveth: I held him:  And I will not let him go even if that means we have to abolish the 22nd amendment.

Go forth, ye sons and daughters of the mainstream media, and see King Barack in the day of my joy.

Chapter Four

How beautiful art thou, my love, how beautiful are thou!  Thy eyes are doves’ eyes. Thy hair is as flocks of goats (and I can say this because as a Democrat I am not racist)

Thy lips are as a scarlet lace: and thy speech is sweet (especially when you get all professorial on us.)

Thy two breasts like two young roes.

 Thou art all fair, O my love Barack, and there is not a spot in thee (thanks to Obamacare)

Chapter Five

I sleep, and my heart watcheth; the voice of my beloved Barack knocking:  Open to me, my mainstream media disciples.

I have put off my garment, for I have free birth control.

My beloved Barack put his hand through the key hole, and I quivered at his touch.

I opened the bolt of my door to my beloved: My soul melted when he spoke.

His legs as pillars of marble.

His progressive throat most sweet, and he is all lovely:  Such is my beloved, and he is friendly to the mainstream media.

Chapter Six

My beloved is gone down into the Rose garden, to feed the mainstream media with his opinions on foreign affairs.

Thou art beautiful, O my love Barack, sweet and comely as JFK.

Return, return:  O Barack:  return, return that we may behold thee.

This is just a fragment of the full Song of the Mainstream Media.  The original scroll has not weathered the forces of time to well and much was unreadable. I have given the full scroll to a team of experts.  Hopefully they can recover the damaged portions of this fascinating document. When they do I will of course share it with my readers.



3 Responses

  1. Petermc3 says:

    …reminds one of a young Harry Belafonte tallying de bananas.

  2. So, you’ve been digging around in Joan Baez’s attic again, haven’t you?

  3. Petermc3 says:

    Dave Chappel can play BO in the stage production.

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