It began when ol' Dubya gave Al Gore the boot,
Those gun—hating Dems really started to shoot.
Their weapons of choice though leave much to desire
For they're usually off—target and so often misfire.
 
In his blustering barrages, as everyone knows,
Al Gore is most likely to blow off his own nose.
And in hitting his targets, Teddy's chances are slimmer
He's no better at bombast than he was as a swimmer.
 
John Kerry took aim at Bush's war in Iraq
But salvoes from Swiftees left him smoking black.
Daschle went to Dakota with all barrels loaded;
When the smoke finally cleared, he had clearly imploded.
 
They were gunning for George, but without enough practice
And ended up full of holes, their butts full of cactus.
That dimwitted cowboy turned out muy mal
Blew the Libs clean away at their O.K. Corral
 
Howard Dean, more than most, embodies the phrase,
'Shoot yourself in the foot,' yet may see better days.
If DNC chiefs decide the Party needs Deaning,
Shooting yourself in the foot will have Party—wide meaning.
 
Senator Boxer shot holes in her own reputation,
Taking potshots at Condi before the whole nation.
We can't wait for the chance to see Nancy Pelosi,
Take aim at ol' George: 'BAM!' there goes her toesy.
 
We'll not tolerate lying, fumes Senator Dayton,
A lightweight compared to the lady he's baitin.'
But he shoots from the lip and quite clearly he misses,
While eighty—five colleagues hand out Condi kisses.
 
This 'Gang that won't shoot straight,' is really no puzzle,
Did you ever see a Lib knew his butt from his muzzle?
Have you fathomed the lesson that runs through this poem?
All guns should have locks if there are Libs in the home.  
 
Russ Vaughn is the Poet Laureate of The American Thinker