Computer Seized After Student Posts Anti-Bush Song

Computer Seized After Student Posts Anti-Bush Song

POSTED: 12:35 pm EST March 17, 2006

MARS HILL, N.C. -- There are some things the Secret Service doesn't laugh about.

Now, North Carolina college freshman Tim Willis has lost his computer because of a song parody about President George W. Bush. Secret Service agents seized Willis' computer after he posted lyrics on the MySpace.com Web site.

The Mars Hill College student changed the lyrics of the punk rock song "Bullet" to refer to an assassination of President Bush. Willis claims he didn't mean any harm, but admits he's no fan of the president.

http://www.local6.com/politics/8081861/detail.html

well the aclu will love this one!

And you know that is exactly what would happen if this idiot gets killed.

I have never prayed for anyone's safety and good health like I have this idiot. We need his to live so they don't turn him into a myrter- cross and all.

:P

... out soon about Bush's relationship with Blair: called "I'm With Stupid":


"I'm with Stupid"


Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid

See you on the TV
Call you every day
Fly across the ocean
Just to let you get your way
No one understands me
Where I'm coming from
Why would I be with someone
who's obviously so dumb?
Love comes
Love grows
every time you rise to meet me
take my hand to greet me
Love comes
Love grows
and power can give a man
much more than anybody knows

Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid

Before we ever met
I thought like everybody did
you were just a moron
a billion-dollar kid
You flew up all the way
like a hawk chasing a dove
I never thought that I would be
a sacrifice in love
It comes
It grows
and now we're tied together
everybody knows

Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid

Is stupid really stupid
or a different kind of smart?
Do we really have a relationship
so special in your heart?

Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid

I have to ask myself
like any lover might:
Have you made a fool of me?
Are you not Mr Right?
You grin
I pose
It's not about sincerity
Everybody knows

Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid
Oh-oh, I'm with Stupid

Is stupid really stupid
or a different kind of smart?
That's how you stole my heart
I'm with Stupid




http://www.petshopboys.co.uk/default.asp?whatSection=lyrics&bgcolor=4ab69c


-P

I've always liked the PSB, ever since I was lucky enough to get some comp tickets to "It Couldn't Happen Here" http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/It_Couldn't_Happen_Here


Although I didn't always know quite where they were coming from, your link mentioned that Neil Tennant went to St Cuthberts, and that the school was inspiration for the Hit "It's a Sin"..One of my favorites .
Well, That is the same school Sting attended. Here is a recount of some of his experiences there. http://www.corpun.com/uks00310.htm

I held the record for being caned

Schooldays for Sting – then known as Gordon Sumner – were a sometimes painful experience, beginning at a Catholic primary, where the seeds of his lifelong problem with religion were sown. In the second extract from his memoirs, he recalls how, after winning a place at a Newcastle grammar school, his appearance, family background and musical ability soon made him stand out from the crowd...



(...)

St CUTHBERT'S is run by a group of priests; the headmaster, the Reverend Canon Cassidy, is as fearsome a man of God as ever walked in a black cloak. A bald head and thick black eyebrows beetling over dark impenetrable eyes and a sunken, cadaverous face give him an expression of permanent, theatrical anger, like a villain in an opera. I know of no one in the school who isn't deathly afraid of this man. I have absolutely no doubt that he is essentially a good and decent person with our best interests at heart, but the school is controlled by the threat of his demeanour and with an unyielding and harsh discipline.

The headmaster's deputy is the Reverend Father Walsh. Father Walsh, as far as I know, does not teach, and his only apparent function in the school seems to be the caning of those boys unlucky enough to be sent to his office for offences as minor as turning up late, excessive blotting of an exercise book, or the rare instances of cheek, swearing, smoking or fighting. In one year, I would hold the record for sustaining 42 strokes of the cane on my rear end, in seven agonising bouts, that for the life of me couldn't have been justified by my behaviour. I just seem to have put myself in the way of trouble, been in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong friends and the wrong look on my face.

(...)

But despite my imaginings, it's a heroism of a different kind that is required here.

"Take your jacket off and put it over the chair.''

The study looks out over the playing fields, where I can see a football being lobbed into the air and a straggling line of cross-country runners. No one seems to have a care in the world out there.

"Bend over, facing the window.''

Sometimes, with some foresight, you can be wearing an extra pair of underpants beneath your grey flannels, but this is as rare as it is unlikely, and an exercise book down your trousers only works in the comics. There is a sudden swish of air in the room behind you and then what feels like a cut from a rapier across the cheeks of your arse. The shocking pain reflexively has you standing bolt upright and winded.

The man on the crucifix by the window averts his eyes from the torture; is this really being done in his name? Whish! Up you go.

That even the threat of this barbarity is effective in keeping us compliant, quiescent and largely obedient is not in question. It is brutally effective. I just wonder whether those who suffered this painful indignity ever turned out the way they were supposed to. My suspicion is that, if we were to evolve into responsible and law-abiding citizens, we would do so despite this treatment, not because of it. Any idea that I would become an unquestioning and uncritical follower of the church's wisdom flew out the office window as the final swipe found its target at the seat of my resentment.


I won't pretend to know what the rigors of attending a catholic school in "jolly" England might entail.

but I'd say it's safe to surmise that good sense was beaten into these boys right proper.

So I'd say Neil's qualified to pen those lyrics.

the secret service would do exactly the same thing. They have to investigate any possible threat against the president. It would help if we knew the song.

The Secret Service doesn't know at first glance who's joking and who's a psycho - they have to investigate. So far, he hasn't been treated unfairly, and as long as the SS completes the investigation in a legal manner and returns his property once he's cleared (perhaps with a sternly-worded lecture on how not to be a jackass online) then I don't see that he has anything to complain about...

about setting fire to a few leftie Senators . . . wonder if they're going to seize his computer . . .

NOT!

for threatening him with a pickle?

there maybe another punk song named Bullet but this probably the one:

Bullet by The Misfits


President’s bullet-ridden body in the street
Ride, johnny ride
Kennedy’s shattered head hits concrete
Ride, johnny ride

Johnny’s wife is floundering
Johnny’s wife is scared
Run, jackie run

Texas is an outrage when your husband is dead
Texas is an outrage when they pick up his head
Texas is the reason that the president’s dead
You gotta suck, suck, jackie suck

President’s bullet-ridden body in the street
Ride, johnny ride
Kennedy’s shattered head hits concrete
Ride, johnny ride

Texas is an outrage when your husband is dead
Texas is an outrage when they pick up his head
Texas is the reason that the president’s dead
You gotta suck, suck, jackie suck

Arise jackie o, jonathon of kennedy
Well, arise and be shot down
The dirt’s gonna be your dessert
My cum be your life source
And the only way to get it
Is to suck or fuck
Or be poor and devoid
And masturbate me, masturbate me
Then slurp it from your palm
Like a dry desert soaking up rain
Soaking up sun
Like a dry desert soaking up rain
Soaking up sun