Freeing Eddie Snowden

The Neo-Soviet Colossus (with apologies to Emma Lazarus) Not like the mighty woman of American fame,With imprisoned lightning seen from land to land;Here at our blood-washed, gloomy gates shall standA grinning B-lister with palm up, whose nameIs J-lo, Swank or Seagal, and their gameIs the selling of souls. From their greased handsGlows world-wide warning; their beady eyes commandThe cash-bridged gate that neo-Soviet horror frames."Keep, democratic lands, your storied pomp!" cry theyWith silent lips. "Give us your has-beens, your runners-up,Your Raspberry winners, yearning for another mink, or Bentley,The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.Send these, the Hollywood homeless, tempest-tossed, to me,I lift my lamp beside the black-golden door! If you may know a nation by the company it keeps, then let me introduce you to Russia: it is the country that dreams of being Libya when it grows up. Mr. Snowden? Your table is ready, sir! Beyoncé, Mariah Carey, Nelly Furtado, Usher, and 50...(Read Full Article)