For the College Republicans

You’ve all seen Max Blumenthal's brilliant video, and it seemed a pity that Generation Chickenhawk had to go even one more day without its own anthem.

Something that would, like the generation it would songify, be at once martial and derivative, and yet risk-free.

So here you go.

Dedicated to that generation of Yellow Elephants and Chris Vucovichs who have definitively shown for all of history to see the exact dimensions of the filthy and debased cultural cul de sac where American Conservativism finally crawled off to die.

That generation of chubby, shirking wannabe-Bonapartes, with the souls of Andersonville prison guards, and spools of GOP talking point ticker-tape where their minds are supposed to be.

The morally stillborn ratlets of our Gilded Age who seem terribly, obsessively concerned that we all know that they are absolutely not gay.

Sung to the tune of “Ballad of The Green Beret”

“Ballad of The We’re Not Gay!”

Bleating wingnuts of the Right
Dastards hiding from the fight
Cellar trolls with much to say
That screech as one: “ No, we’re not gay!”

“Cheney/Bush” on their lapels
Karl Rove’s own splinter cells.
Bought a War: let others pay.
Snivelers all, but soooo not-gay.

Trained to live off Daddy’s cash
When lies don’t work, then talk some trash.
In fear they might just be “that way”
They scream real loud: “But I’m not gay!”

“Cheney/Bush” on their lapels
Karl Rove’s own splinter cells.
Who buy their Wars on lay-away.
Poltroons all, but soooo not-gay.

Back at the dorm, a girlfriend waits
A wingnut too, and six weeks late.
Daddy’s doctor snakes her tubes
‘Cause “Right to Life” is for the rubes.

Take someone else, but don’t take me.
A real man, I’ll never be.
Just like the spawn I’ll whelp one day,
Who just like me, will not be gay.