Habemus Presidentem!


He's got the whole continent in his hands

Habemus Caesarem! Ave! Ave! Ave!

The white smoke has risen over the Atomium, and the Holy Roman Empire has its Caesar once again, and fittingly one from the province of Beneluxus, which started the whole thing off in the first place by pacifying the tribes of the Belgae, the Low Rhenish-Franconians and the Luxurians and forming a mini-union of peoples, which was destined to grow and grow over subsequent decades, taking over the Roman Empire and in turn being assimilated into it in a way that this Hermann’s arguable etymological forebear Hermann Arminius, two millennia earlier, could only have dreamed of. Finally Hermann has taken the Empire.

Even more fittlngly, this new Caesar is a poet, after the honorable tradition of the Caesar poet Nero, whom we can even say is a type of Rompuy. This New Caesar combines in his surname elements both of a Romulus and of Pompey, the lost treasure of the Roman Empire.

This newly elected (only not by the people, there’s the snag – in fact the old Caesars probably were the product of more democracy than we now have) vicar of Nimrod on Eutopian soil, the man whom fellow Bilderberger Kissinger can now ring up for a cosy chat, or tell Obama to, Mr Hermann Van (note aristocratic Van) Rumpy-Pumpy and his blue-blooded Baroness boiler counterpart, Catherine Ashtonne, are now going to take us into the next chapter of the sorry history of this continent. Are we supposed to get up and cheer for the fact that these two, whom not of the readers of this blog were ever given the chance to vote for the office, are now the most powerful pair of politicians in the world, presiding over the largest economy governed by one president? I’m not cheering. I’m weeping. You may wonder why Obama isn’t weeping suddenly to be displaced as Numero Uno Del Mundo by some chinless haiku-writing wonder from Eutopia? Because he’s in on the deal, that’s why. They are all working for the same masters.

The new European dream seems to be summed up in the fact that every body, regardless of how bad they look, can become President and first laide-y, as the French would have it, as long as they have either a baronetcy or an aristocratic surname. No elitism here. Oh no.

So, to celebrate the (heh) election of this new Poet President of Europe, I’d like to write a special poem in honour of my new state representative, that I didn’t get a vote for.

Here goes:

President Elect?
As in “we choose our leaders”?
I remember that!

If you can do better, please leave your haiku tribute to our Neo-Nero from the land of Samsonite, Brel and Jean-Claude van Damme and his royal consnort the Baroness of Upholland, who is no oil painting even in the Flemish school, in the comments box.

Please no haikus involving “Rumpuy Pumpuy” or any such puns as they are too obvious. I already did some of them myself but edited them out as not being worthy. Anyway, I can’t really see it, can you?

About David J. James

52 year old accountant who loves languages, literature, history, religion, politics, internet, vlogging and blogging and lively written discussion. Conservative Christian, married to an angel, we have three kids, and live in Warsaw, Poland. I can help you with company set-up, bookkeeping, payroll, tax, audit and due diligence all over Poland and the region.

Posted on 20/11/2009, in Blog only, Other, Politics, Satire and Comedy and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. maxxxmagician

    🙂

    Like

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