To bomb, or not to bomb, that is the suggestion;
Whether ’tis nobler in the polls to suffer
The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Limbaugh,
Or launch drones against a Sea of troublemakers,
And by igniting, end them: To die, to vote present
No more: and by passing the buck to Congress
We end the Heart-ache, and get back to going Forward.
‘Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wished. Perhaps
This is all a dream and I’ll wake up back in Chicago,
Where Jarrett can do no wrong. Aye, there’s the rub.
For in Washington the game is played for stakes beyond my ken.
So I must go on TV to state my case, even to FOX.
For more important than a red line here or there,
I maybe did or not declare, I cannot let the people start to laugh,
Or think of me the indecisive fool that one can mock with disregard.
And retire to bask in the respect I am so rightly due,
Because I am the one for which all waited for so long,
I will easily bear the Whips and Scorns of time,
Consoled in waning years with speaking fees most grand,
My misfortunes and mistakes forgiven,
My Nobel Prize to warm my heart. For I can be Assured,
That when my legacy is wrote, by Mainstream Mediocrities who fawn.
None of my sins will be remembered.