Papa America is the world's craziest Papa. Papa America has many
faces, swarms of servants and numerous humble slaves. Papa Eyes, Papa
Ears, Papa Mouths, these are all over the place. Driven by gigantic
appetites and bottomless interests, Papa Arms are all over the place,
punching in faces here, breaking fingers there, you name it, the order
is so colossal that the risk of over-reaching is forever present.

But in spite of the cosmic Appetite, Papa America can be very a
generous Papa to his spoilt Baby in the desert.

Papa America supplies to his Baby all kinds of deadly Papa-made toys:

Papa-F-16s
Papa-Gun-ships
Papa-M$ Missiles
Papa-M$ Bombs
Papa-Apache Helicopters
Papa-Tanks
and other Papa-made products.

And as all spoilt brats do, Baby is spoilt rotten:
Baby goes to picnic in military tanks
Baby goes to picnic in whirring helicopters
Baby wreaks havoc all over the place
Baby defiles mosques, Baby invades churches

Baby's evil knows no bounds
Baby kills babies, Baby kills priests,
Baby forces women to deliver their babies at military checkpoints.

But Papa America is unperturbed
And Baby is only a chip off the old Bloke.

But, whenever Baby tastes something of his own medicine, Baby makes
faces, and Papa gets sour at everyone else in the desert but at Baby.

So Baby kills Palestinians, and Papa's face shines with pride: My poor
Baby!

Papa thinks occupation equals Bliss
Papa is for Slavery
Papa can't understand enough is enough
Papa is gullible; Papa believes in everything Baby tells him.

Baby thinks Papa is the Boss of Mother Earth, and Baby has no reason
to believe otherwise.

And oh! yes! Baby does possess plenty of Poison...
But Papa aint no good at counting Baby products....

Now Baby's crying for a brand new toy:
Iran? Syria?
Syria? Iran?

Come on Security Council...holiday's over, write Papa another check!

Iraq's an old feather, already.
Papa America is the world's craziest papa

alwan