The Idyossey
Chapter 10: Skullduggery

The Idyossey
Chapter 1- Ichor of the Gods
Chapter 2- The Price of Peace
Chapter 3- Empyre
Chapter 4- Woeful Warrior
Chapter 5- Mitzvah
Chapter 6- News Analysis
Chapter 7- Strategic Planner
Chapter 8- Aristea
Chapter 9- Last Supper
Chapter 10- Skullduggery
Chapter 11: Family Reunion
Chapter 12- Black Goddess
Chapter 13- Saboteur
Chapter 14- Glossolalia
Chapter 15- Visitation
Chapter 16- Dead or Alive
Chapter 17- Across the Border
Chapter 18- The Unraveling
Chapter 19- Summer in the City
Chapter 20- Wolf and Jackal
Chapter 21- George Gloats
Chapter 22- Surreality
Chapter 23- Kidnapped
Chapter 24- Denouement

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The Bushiad
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The hangman equals death! The Devil
Equals death! Death equals death!
The Skull & Bones incantation. Deep
Within the cloistered chambers of the Tomb,
The society’s gothic home, this mantra's
Been chanted by three Bush generations.

The members of this secret order: Yalies.
Their emblem: skull and bones. It’s shared with
Pirates, outlaws of the sea, who fly the Jolly Roger.
The German Brotherhood of Death, the Thule Society
Also adopted Death’s Head as their emblem.
Adolph Hitler joined that club in 1919.

William Huntington Russell, U.S. General,
Founded Yale’s first secret society, in 1832.
His partner in the venture was Alphonso Taft,
Grandfather of the President of the same last name.
Members alive today include the powerful in
Mass media, banking, politics and oil.

On this warm and humid D.C. evening in June,
A small reunion of The Order’s in progress.
“Bonesmen,” alumni of the brotherhood,
Blueblood sons of wealth, preppies all, they’re
Each one of fifteen joined by solemn rites each year;
Tonight the global power elite celebrate.

“Who was the fool, who the wise man,
Beggar or king? Whether poor or rich,
All’s the same in death,” quotes Prince George.
The slogan appears above the “vault” in the Tomb's
sanctum sanctorum, room 322. A painting of skulls
Surrounded by Masonic symbols hangs below.

Heads bow at his sharp recital,
They all know the chant by heart.
“Bushido,” says Henry Luce of Time, “It’s perfect.
It’s so fitting you’re Commander-in-Chief.”
George smiles. In his heart he’s had
The same thought many times.

“How goes the New World Order?”
Asks Harold Stanley of Morgan Stanley fame.
More rhetorical than serious, he knows the answer.
Bonesmen accept in full their dedication
To use armed force and creative chaos, tools
That insure their continued control of the planet.

“It’s going pretty well,” grins George.
“Afghanistan is in turmoil,
Dependent on U.S. aid, completely.
The Taliban is scattered, running to the hills,
Pakistan is nervous, keeping India on edge.
The region’s in an uproar. Perfect chaos!”

“More, tell us more,” the whole group chants,
“OK” says George, clear-headed and sharp,
“We’ve declared perpetual war. North Korea’s
Building nukes, and the U.S. public is afraid.
We’re planning Patriot Act II, virtual martial law,
And all in time for next November’s victory!”

“Death equals Death!” they all intone. The Oval Office,
Sanctum sanctorum too, is silent. Eyes closed,
They form a circle, and each recalls
His own initiation: sexual confession, hours naked
In a closed coffin, oaths of silence; apprentices
To death and gods of war.

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