I was riding in the car this evening, listening to a custom CD of selected Irish rebel tunes that my son made for me, when I heard a song entitled, "F--k the British Army." The miles rolled by, and I drifted off into that twilight between consciousness and REM sleep. I was thinking about Obama's "Civilian Security Force" earlier in the day and wondering if it was going to look like the depression-era Triple C's, or something more sinister, like the Young Communist League, the Hitler Youth or perhaps Papa Doc Duvalier's Ton-Ton Macoutes.
When I awoke, I heard this song in my head, to the tune of "F--k the British army."
Join Obama's Army
When I was young I used to be as fine a man as ever you'd see;
The Lightworker O, he said to me, "Come and join Obama's Army."
When I was young I had a twist of punching babies with my fist
A judge convinced me to enlist and join Obama's Army.
Too ra loo ra loo ra loo, if you've a gun I'll rat you too.
If I had a face like you, I would join Obama's Army.
We get to snitch and beat and rape, taxpayer dollars we do take.
We patrol the streets for Barry's sake in Obama's Army.
But one bad day I ratted out a man who didn't mess about;
With rifle fire he put us to rout and ran off Obama's Army.
Too ra loo ra loo ra loo, the bastard shot off my tattoo.
They didn't tell me I'd be screwed if I joined Obama's army.
Then his friends came, one and all, and stood us up against a wall,
I don't think I'll live to see the fall and I blame Obama's Army.
Too ra loo ra loo ra loo, let my sad story caution you.
Tell the judge it's prison for you, and pass on Obama's army.