Features

Most honorable profession at the point of a blade. 

The last pure form.  

Mastery without effort. 

Song of the executioner. 

The art of cleavage 

and making chips fly. 

Zen in motion: 

OK. Stand the slab on end, like so. 

No teetering, blockhe ad! That's it.  

Our little champion.  

Mr. conservative smarty pants. 

Too big for his Republican britches. 

One of the hollow men.  

Just like his daddy.  

Feet wide apart. Knees a little bent.  

Heft the shank easy like, fingers loose, never tight. 

Don’t s queeze the shaft! 

Stay balanced. 

Now, address the dodgy son of a bitch: 

Mr. President, do you still insist  

there were weapons of mass  

desecration?  

OK. OK, sir. Whatever you say. But on your knees!  

Perjurers, murderers of small children,  

and loote rs of the economy  

do not pass through Peter's gate. 

Find the mark.  

We’ll cultivate that little crack.  

An opportunity waiting to happen. 

Stay centered.  

Up the maul, most excellent tool of all my days.  

Razor edge of discrimination.  

Hammer of infinite heaven. 

Bane of knots and heart rot. 

Punk nemesis. 

Hewer of the toughest grain.  

Instrument of the mighty spheres unbound. 

Avenging angel filled with disdain  

for you  

and all of your cronies and  

carpetbaggers. 

Swift retribution is coming! 

Now straight and true  

and away with him... 

( ! ) 

Omigod! 

With that stroke  

we could've thrice cut the deficit. 

Pity the poor soul.  

See! Look! It flies away… 

—Mark Gaffney 

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