Obama's Hamburger Hamlet - Much Ado About Mustard

To be, or not to be medium well, that is the question!
In the most high and palmy District of Washington.
A little ere 100 days the mightiest Republicans fell,
Were storefronts now tenantless, and swine flue fright doth rule,
Did gibber of Ray's Steaks and Hell Burgers in Arlington streets.

Where Geithner and Bernanke proclaimed that
Both a borrower and a lender be;
For loan oft gains both votes and friends,
And borrowing stimulates weary economy.

Find out the cause of this effect,
Because the Commander in Chief hungereth.
Or rather say, the cause of this detect,
For this effect defective comes by cause,
So with his VP escapeth his White Castle.

Not a computer mouse stirring.
And then it started like a guilty thing
Upon a fearful summons.
But, look, the noon, in hungered mantle clad,
Obama rides o'er the slew of yon high shills.
The memory be green of Arugula farmers,
With Biden that less than kin, yet more than kind.
That it should come to this!

"Season your admiration with a spicy mustard."
The President's baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth their ratings tables.

Words, words, words.
Give thy thoughts no tongue, except on talk radio.
Why, Rush, a robustious periwig-pated fellow,
Very like a whale,
Would hang on him,
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.

Sean cried "Thrift, thrift, Horatio Alger!
All is not well; I suspect some French socialist Dijon foul play.
Something is rotten in the state of Virginia."

Alas, poor Yokels! We knew them, Ho-radio.
Tis as easy as lying.
What! Frighted with false ire?
The loonies doth protest too much, methinks.
They have a plentiful lack of wits.
More matter, with less condiments.
There is nothing either good nor bad, but thinking makes it so tasty.

"This above all: to thine own self be true,
Medium-well it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Brevity is the soul of wit:
"No ketchup" commandeth the Prince.

Lord! we know what we are, but know not what we may be.
For I am more a modern Lincoln than an FDR.
He was a man, take him for all in all,
We shall not look upon his like again.

A king of shreds and patches worthy of GQ.
Not just a rhapsody of words.
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Report me and my cause aright
To the unemployed.
Come, my limo!
Good-night sides;
Good night, sweet relish;
Good night.