4 comments on “No One Exploits a Tragedy Like America

  1. My country ’tis of thee,
    Sweet land of felony,
    Of thee I sing–
    Land where my fathers fried
    Young witches and applied
    Whips to the Quaker’s hide
    And made him spring.

    My knavish country, thee,
    Land where the thief is free,
    Thy laws I love;
    I love thy thieving bills
    That tap the people’s tills;
    I love thy mob whose will’s
    All laws above.

    Let Federal employees
    And rings rob all they please
    The whole year long.
    Let office-holders make
    Their piles and judges rake
    Our coin. For Jesus’ sake,
    Let’s all go wrong!

    Ambrose Bierce

    Chris

  2. Pingback: The writer’s ‘right’ to exploit tragedy for art | What Rhymes With Sarah?

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