The folks in Qatar must be the Invincibles:
Thirteen demands reduced to six principles,
Which no doubt from there will descend to request,
To a vague idea that some princelings suggest,
Then trending topic below this poem's space
A quickly-made gesture to save the Saud face.
I know how Sauds feel in watering all down,
Feeling the whacks to their well-moneyed crown.
With my spouse I go through the same all the time,
And turn on the same matrimonial dime:
Demands fall to appeals and then invitations,
And end one notch over abject supplications.
Harder must it be to run the Saud kingdom,
Convincing plebs of the size of your thingdom,
And knowing that beyond that sandy horizon
Your rivals and enemies plan on revisin'
The state of your nation and the height of your rank:
Lest you walk beside kings and not down the gangplank.
And then there's the Yankees
weighing in tough,
Preferring to Salman that diamond-in-rough:
M. bin Nayef who was against the blockade,
Had no beef with Yemen, gave terror the blade,
Much like his old uncle who played a cool hand,
Led the Wahabbis and drummed for their brand.
Nobody can say what the Yankees' game is,
If they like Sauds bombing their neighbors to fizz,
Or do they wonder if this Salman's a jinx,
Muffing Qatar, Yemen, and Syria links?
Happy they can't be with a pushy parvenu,
With bold bright ideas and the oil tap too.
The smart word to Salman from the guys at my bars,
Is make Langley happy and not trust the stars,
In fact distrust all except well-paid young toughs,
The kind that turn bouncers into creampuffs,
Keep career paths open, a house on the Med,
And not bite the Yankee that keeps you well-fed.
(Article changed on July 25, 2017 at 17:17)
