A winter sport I'd like to see:
A shooting match, by teams, on ski.
While blood in hockey's sanitized
For sake of replays televised
To save the kids—it's late for that.
So get your club or baseball bat
And fasten skis on both your feet,
And win that gold for U-S-A
By bashing commie fags in fray.
They want their chance to get you too
To own a pair of eyes of blue,
To stain the white of ice with you.
Instead we watch from every pew
And worship those who ought renew
Their lust for war through every sport—
Whose feats on ice inspire our due
And still command our staunch support.
They bait a kindly Minotaur:
Olympics are a proxy-war.
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