Turnip Truck
Once upon a twice-told tale of heroics and woe,
A brave, courageous shmuck/craven putz/crazed klutz,
A grade-A, class-C shmegegge, shmendrick, shlimazel, shiker-lush,
Fell off the proverbial turnip-truck dushegubka he was driving
(A Meals on Wheels loaded with chicken soup and gefilte fish for the soul),
He, Adolf Shicklgruber Ben-Gurion,
Heading for Hölle's Kitchen, located in Heaven's Auschwitz ghetto,
And tumbling down a vast ravine called, fondly, by the locals, Babi Yar,
That lowly, noble pretender to mankind's hallowed Hall of GoodEvil,
Soldier of goodbad fortune, came to rest, in a rats' nest
Seething with the Gott-awfulest stench of rotting human flesh
Erupting with the gaseousness inherent in porcine black putrefaction —
A somewhat deflating and shameful comedown for a man of such promise,
Who, to this day, doesn't even remain as a footnote to history,
Lest one can gain Internet access to the disambiguation of his spirit,
Which, on closer inspection, appears to yet exist, algorithmically,
As a viral home video, downloadable on YouTube,
For the price of a few deft-fingertip keystrokes or mouse clicks . . .
Which still discloses the idiosyncratically toothbrush-moustache madness
That drove Herr A. S. Ben-Gurion to drive that turnip truck south,
On the northbound autobahn, racing toward the Promised Land.
10/31/12
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