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December 13, 2008
Now Charlie, Charlie was a rebel up until this moment of his demise.

You could see it in the way he leaned his head and in his eyes.

Parents, teachers, couldn't parent, teach him, always cracking wise,

Like, "Fools, you're staring at the ceiling; I'm staring at the skies."

His army started small, with snowballs and Boston cream pies,

The New York Times caught up with him and praised him to the skies.

His followers' numbers grew, like around Big Macs grow fries,

Seized power, murdered, until counter-rebellion grew in size:

The newer rebels; and today's the day Charlie dies.