KICKIN' ASS
by Jonathan Chisdes
Here we go again, y’all, kicking some more ass;
This time it’s the Serbs who’ll be ground into the grass!
It’s a joyous time, so shout and scream and yell.
Hooray for our boys as we bomb them back to hell!
What a thrilling moment as the planes go on attack,
Just like those days of glory when we destroyed Iraq.
What a fucking war that was against that idiot Hussein—
Those A-rabs couldn’t even fight; they were all insane.
The Serbs are just like ‘em, too—a stupid little bunch.
They don’t stand a chance; we’ll eat them up for lunch.
Kill them all, kill them now, before they multiply;
Every evil Serb gets his ass blown to the sky.
Their widows and their orphans, well they deserve it too—
They had to gall to not be born Americans, proud and true.
Send in the troops and sit back and watch the fun.
Our American boys will prove our team is number one.
Don’t let the momentum slow or take a political pause,
Or let Congress tie our hands with pantywaist human-rights laws.
Go in all the way and, oh, what the heck,
International laws be damned, take out Milosevic.
There is precedent, ‘cause we did that with Manuel Noriega.
Like an awesome video game from Nintendo or Sega.
Spend the money; we will pay whatever it must cost,
‘Cause we are on a moral crusade to fight the Holocaust.
Who cares if it’s different guys or a half-century too late?
It really doesn’t matter ‘cause we just give in to our hate.
Get ready to shoot, boys, and keep those fingers on the trigger
And pull it if you see a Serb or Muslim or Jew or Nigger.
It doesn’t matter that we have lost sight of our vague goal
Because this war is better than the fuckin’ Super Bowl.
Turn on CNN to watch us turn Yugoslavia into mud—
I just wish that they would show us some more blood.
Don’t worry, ‘cause none of our guys will ever have to die—
That’s what Clinton said, and we know he would never lie.
Our weapons and technology are fired with martial class.
Cruise missiles and stealth fighters can really kick some ass!
This is a feel-good time for our holy Christian nation:
Feel the power of our power in a national masturbation.
Our team has the brightest colors: red and white and blue.
Wave the flag, don’t be a fag. Hey, you know what we should do?
We must find the guts to do what we didn’t in Vietnam;
When all else fails we can resort to dropping a nuclear bomb.
You know that we should do it ‘cause you know that we can.
Aren’t you proud, aren’t you proud to be an American?
[note: This poem was premiered on May 4, 1999, at the
"Ass-Kicker’s Ball," a special theme-night of the Backroom Words, for which
is was written.]
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