Last night was a hum-dinger in the notoriously liberal Iowa City.  There were young folks running through the streets whooping and hollering, full of champagne and HOPE; horns were honking, and the twenty McCain-Palin yard signs in town were quietly removed from lawns.

Maybe most noteworthy, Iowa City’s favorite caustic sunuvabitch (no, not me), Matt Grimm was also handing out hugs and CD-R’s featuring an ode he wrote to The United States’ favorite Commander-in-Chief.  This is some really vitriolic shit (”If you got cancer / I’d laugh till I cried”), people.  This is not for the faint of heart, or for that matter, any one of the 20% who approve of W.’s work.  But it’s also really, really funny.

So raise your glasses, cause the “liberal elite” has a new drinking song, and something to drink to.

Matthew Grimm & The Red Smear - One Twenty Oh-Nine

You can get the song here for a dollar!

And we’ve got the lyrics after the jump…

We need not pretend we could ever be friends
But I don’t think it’s too much to ask
That after eight years of rows and untold broken vows
You give every day of it back

You may’ve done what you thought was best, but it’s conspicuous
How the inverse transpired
So with a world now in flames, I won’t bother to deign
To piss on your head if your hair catches fire

I’m normally not a mean-spirited guy
But if you got cancer I’d laugh till I cried

One twenty oh-nine the day of our new jubilee
five-point-nine billion voices and glasses upraised in the joy of your egress to ignominy
The skies will open in cool cleansing rain of ambrosia that all may partake
And next day we’ll start digging out of the wrack and the ruin you leave in your wake

I know you won’t soon be troubled with staid self-reflection
Still a cloistered and dull trust-fund kid
You’ll never be hungry, foreclosed on or held to the
Laws that hang others who did what you did

But maybe one shiny day
We’ll all see each other again in The Hague

One twenty oh-nine the day of our new jubilee
five-point-nine billion voices and glasses upraised to the end of our national ignominy
The skies will open in cool cleansing rain of ambrosia that all may partake
And next day we’ll start digging out of the sad, bloody nightmare you leave in your wake

And the next guy might well be a trainwreck
But he won’t be you and that’s saying a lot
And if the myths you’ve damned others by prove to be true,
Pray you outlive the devil and god