What have they gone and done?

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, torturin' beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

This is the saddest day.

Hard to believe, isn't it: a President so scaredy, so self-consumed, and a Congress so craven as to vote torture into law? Or rather, to vote torture beyond the law.

What have you done to your country?

My God, but Bin Laden was right: "Alls we have to do is knock down some towers, and they'll do all the rest." I'm sorry, but when you stoop this low you've lost; when you cast aside your history, your traditions, your honor like this, you've lost. When you're so afraid of your shadow that you'll sideswipe your cherished Constitution, pick up citizens off the street to be disappeared and tortured and hidden, and all on the word of a man who could not run an oil company in Texas, you've lost.

But, Moosie thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

What a hideous waste of space. I supported the war in Iraq; and now that we're there, still do. But a man who thought they'd strew his path with flowers, who would not could not conceive otherwise, even when it was clear they'd sewn the paths with mines; to this you grant the power to Decide?

You've lost. I'm sorry, but You've lost it all.

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!