Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven has long been a favorite offering of the macabre on Halloween. This year brings thirteen chilling stanzas that parody his classic verse, foreshadowing the events of Tuesday next.

The Reagan

nce upon a polling place, a smile etched upon my face
I passed through that hallowed chamber door
Then in a line, did patient wait with all of those, both small and great
As I’ve done for years, every four
Since I was old enough to vote, every four
As I shall until I pass to evermore

I produced proper identity, to verify that I am me
A scowl, the clerk’s visage clearly bore
Reflected in her timber somber, left no room for me to ponder
The message was too clear, should not ignore
T’was a meaning that I’d well not ignore
“You’ll not need that here, no not evermore”

Behind a mask revulsion hidden, went I then where I was bidden
Entering solemn sanctum, I closed the fabric curtain door
Within its glory did I bask, ahead of me a solemn task
Behind me was not, but that fabric curtain door
My privacy ensured by that thin cotton door
T’was that illusion and nothing more

Then suddenly there came a feeling, as if someone were stealing
Stealing a glimpse, at the very ballot that I bore
Glancing o’re my shoulder did I see, the curtains rustling behind me
“T’is a breeze,” I said, blowing my cotton door
Gently blowing my thin curtained door
Only this and nothing more

Wafting in upon the air, came now a stench hard to bear
I whirled around to witness, a hippie in my chamber door
“What in hell?” did I mutter but not a sound did he utter
Nothing did he offer, as he stood in my sanctum’s door
Quiet he remained, as he drew back across the flimsy door
Note to self, do not vote here any more

T’was more than lack of courtesy, for his intent I could not see
“Be you gone now vile creature,” did I implore
Still the smell it did linger, as if someone pulled my finger
“Make haste to proper side of Styx appointed shore”
Indicating downward, toward that cursed shore
But came from him a smile and nothing more

On tattered vest wore he a tag, all but obscured by shoulder bag
One word it read, it said ‘Acorn’, only Acorn and nothing more
He handed me a pamphlet printed, could smell the ink so freshly minted
Reading, ‘Correct choices must be made in this chore’
Wicked Acorn, you’ll not aid my honored chore!
“Get away from me,” I shouted, “I beseeched you once before”

Pushing past the odorous hippie, I near ran into a gipsy
Upon her shawl an Acorn tag she as well wore
Staggering in disbelief, I looked around for some relief
For someone I could trust, out on that crowded gym floor
There was Wright, Ayers and Sharpton, amongst others on that floor
I saw Carter and Gore, who head the list that I abhor

A strangled cry trapped in my throat, I only came in here to vote!
T’is a sacrosanct duty, that I shall not ignore!
The Acorn tagged still closer came, chanting but a single name
T’was a sound that I shall bear for now and evermore
It will torment my very soul for evermore
“Obama”, they intoned, it echoed ‘cross the floor

Feeling now a darkest dread, the cold, groping hands of these undead
Began to drag me back, to my booth’s cotton door
If I wished e’er again to see the sun, I must vote their Chosen One
But I‘d sooner my blood pool upon that sacred floor
If must needs, then be it spilled upon the floor
T’is better death’s release, than Obama for evermore

Bodily they threw me in, to compel my will, turn to sin
To cast a vote for Babylon’s painted whore
Trapped inside that holy station, held by mass Obamanation
Freedom’s lamp did flicker ever sore
Dimmed, did free will’s beacon, ever sore
Portents of impending darkness, evermore

The gym was bathed in sudden light, t’was Reagan and his City Bright
Upon that Hill he stood and gazed upon my horror
A grim set to his kindly face, he cleansed the riffraff from that place
Then Acorn was replaced, with the common sense of yore
Citizens regained, their sensibilities of yore
And shall vote Obama, no not evermore

When shadows pass across the land, there’re swept aside by gentle hand
Extremes both Right and Left, we now deplore
Then I woke from pleasured sleep, in my bed begin to weep
Half remembered mandate, fleeting like before
His voice near remembered from before
When quoth The Reagan, “Nevermore”

Scary things abound at Humor-Blogs.com

As the 2008 Election dwindles toward election day, it seems the moonbats are in a tizzy over Barbara West’s interview of Hair Plugs Joe Biden on WFTV. She’s been accused of a “Hit Job” on the Democrat Vice Presidential candidate. Even better, the Dread Fox News is oft cited, even though she’s with an entirely different network. Alex Jones Ronulans say this is because ALL media is in the pocket of the Republican Party.

The alleged “hit job” included actual questions people want to know about, including Obama’s affiliation with ACORN, Obama’s “Spread the wealth” quote to Joe the Plumber, and Joe Biden promising catastrophe within the first six month’s of a President Obama administration.

No, Obama, the second coming of the messiah will apparently not heal all wounds automagically as promised. Instead, Obama will drive the country into the sewer, and Vice Presidential candidate Joe Biden guarantees it, or your devalued – no make that worthless – money back. Good times ahead. Biden promises lower poll numbers for President Obama than even the Congressional single digit polls, as the country takes a nosedive that makes 9/11 look like dress rehearsal. Super Obama will not save us.

And this is somehow a “hit job” to ask serious questions.

In keeping with our proud tradition of poorly written, ill thought out, repulsive, disgusting, disgraceful, hateful conservative humor, I’ve constructed a poorly made video that remixes the interview to further drive the validity of the questions home. Hair Transplants asks, “who wrote your questions,” but the questions just write themselves.

Video Link

And what of Barbara West’s journalistic integrity? Let’s just put it out there with Keith Olberman’s tingling in the pants for Obama, and Ed McCaffery calling Sarah Palin a complete and utter disgrace. But it’s okay, as long as the bias is in the direction of unfettered Obama Sycophancy. Just don’t question the Messiah or his disciples, or face personal destruction.

Hairplugs smartly pulled the interview so that no one would see it. He must have forgotten that Al Gore invented the internet. When you spread the videos around, it’s good for everyone.

Oh, my ghouls and goblins, it’s been a frightful week.  Now it’s time to take that pent-up rage and use it to gouge out the eyes of those who disagree with you. Strike deep with sharpened claws, to render the flesh of any naysayers.  For this week’s flame war parody ask the simple but demonic question: Trick…or Treat?

Let mayhem reign!