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To His Coy Murdoch

Bill Kristol been taking liberties with Andrew Marvell yet again.

From time to time, I too must cross Harvard Yard, where last night a fleeting figure too bright to be his lady thrust into my hands this odious marvel:

Has Rupert world enough, and time,
To suffer young Bill’s latest rhyme?
Though he has authored, reprobate,
Conservatism’s parlous state.
While some teahouses on The Hill
Still deign to serve The Standard’s swill.
Others down by Watergate
Await Murdoch’s dictated slate.
Any other they’ll refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.

But at his back, inspiring fear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurries near
As Newsweek in the dust doth lie
We hear The Weekly Standard cry
Subscribers no more can be found,
The economy’s run hard aground,
The markets plunge, jobs disappear,
As Kristol leads us from the rear.
Iran lacks nukes, yet still his Standard scores
Our nation’s policy by its count of wars.
Fought in middle eastern dust,
While Yankee credit turns to rust.
The Fed’s a fine and private place,
But none I think our bonds embrace.

So quick, before the curtain falls,
Upon his weekly’s hollow halls
Good neos rally, Happy band!
Lend your muse a helping hand,
Hasten him forward while you may
And bonds still rate a single A,

Manfully to embrace his fate,
And reverting to the just estate.
Of talking head with broken pate
Become a True Whig candidate.
Here ends the Marvellous allegory
Never was Kristol really a Tory.


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