We may have nicked the first, but, dammit, won
The second fair and square, if not by much.
I had the capital to spend, and stun
Those hapless, craven bleeding hearts I crushed.
First, we cut the tax that had made us strong,
Enriched the smirking rich. Then told some lies
To settle scores, regardless of the throng
Of nations shocked by good old Texas drive.
I wallowed in weak Europe’s scorn and hate.
Old Nick points out it’s better to be feared
Than loved. To spend a billion more each day
Than we take in—so what? So what the tears?
My wretched plans all wrecked—the world now mocks
A blameless man become a laughingstock!
10/28/05
Old Nick, of course, is Niccolo Machiavelli (1469-1527) whose amoral political counsel earned him his current reputation. The sonnet concludes with a paraphrase of Job 12:4. The worst part of Job’s suffering was not the death of his children, not the loss of his wealth, not the sickness of his body. It was, for this proud sheik, to be a laughingstock!