Showing posts with label A poet but you wouldn't know it. Show all posts
Showing posts with label A poet but you wouldn't know it. Show all posts

Saturday, February 25, 2023

Dangerfield, Will Robinson, Dangerfield!

We don't get no respect. Our politicians tell us they identified lots of fat and colossal waste and would cut spending to trim it. Turns out the fat's on our waist and the spending they're targeting is ours -- on food. The good news: this will leave more room in the family budget for taxes and fees.

We don't get no respect.

Ever heard of The Continental Congress? That's the nation's founders. Now we got the con-man congress -- where the nation flounders. They only act continental when it impresses the league of woman voters. We should have listened closer during the campaign. They were actually saying, "Yes, we con." They're so good at it they could con a surgeon out of his scrubs -- and are, by the thousands. They're giving the entire nation a bath, charging us for the water before fining us for using the wrong soap. They help their lawyer buddies to eat our lunch, give our dinner to the government unions, and feed our breakfast to lobbyists and activists. Then they tell us not to complain 'cause they put it on our kid's tab -- only they're working on the grandkids now.

We don't get no respect. 

Wanna buy some health care deform? If you ask how much, you can't afford it. A decade ago it was all the rage. A House committee wrote a twelve-hundred-page bill to deform health care. The house then improved it by a thousand pages and sent it to the Senate. The Senate tossed all 2,200 pages in the can. They replaced it with 2,400 pages of their very own and sent it to the House. The House was appalled -- which means somebody read it. They came up with a fix. Some say it is one thousand pages of patches, some say two thousand, and some 36,482. Then they figured it out: put it online and you can do it in one really, really, really, really long page. I hear Hammurabi wanted to reform health care but the universe ran out of clay.

We don't get no respect.

You heard of "Hide the Salami," right? The Democrats play "who gets Salamied!" Then they go out on the town to do budget scoring. They want a budget with a big bust while they max out the credit card. They think the national debt means the nation owes them. They say a new program will cost two trillion over ten years but they don't include the cost overruns, so multiply by three. It's budget neutral, they say -- just like Belgium in World War II, it'll get rolled over by tanks four or five times. What about that trillion-dollar deficit? It could be worse and will be. Folks, this is not Smoke N. Mirrors' accounting. I know Smoke N. Mirrors. Smoke N. Mirrors is a friend of the Republicans. This is Smoking Fraud.

We don't get no respect.

Our rulers have low self-esteem. They think any nation that would put them in charge must be populated by stupid idiots and knuckle-dragging neanderthals. They want it to be an intelligent nation, like Denmark (but without the Vikings), one they can be proud of when they go to Bali in January for that global warming conference.

We don't get no respect.

We are blamed for global warming and are told to spend 100 trillion dollars to mitigate it. Politicians, bureaucrats, academics, and various fraudsters act as the mitigators -- meaning they get their mitts on the money.

We don't get no respect.

Our state department does not want to be allied with any nation that would be friends with us. Our Representatives take a tour of Arab Capitals. They expect the Arabs to suggest we bomb Iran. Turns out, they want us to bomb ourselves.

We don't get no respect.

The Chinese blame us for selling them bonds. The Europeans blame us for electing the guy they wanted us to elect. The world that wanted us to disengage from it is now disenchanted with our disengagement. They say we are disengaged when we should be concentrating on our disengagement. And everyone wants us to be poor and miserable while still buying their stuff, all at the same time. Solution: sell us junk.

We don't get no respect. And why should we? We put up with it. Budah-bing.

Friday, July 6, 2012

Slap them with a Tax

I wrote some lyrics! They are lyrical! They can be sung to the tune of every Radiohead song I’ve ever heard (I haven’t heard them all).
 Big G and the D.C.’s

When I see you eating Big Macs,
With your happy-meal deal kids
I feel your weight upon my shoulders.
I want to…
Slap, slap, slap.

I see you in your big car,
On a commute that is too far;
I feel my temperature rising.
I want to…
Slap, slap, slap.

At the movies when you eat popcorn
So full of salt and fat
I feel forlorn.
and want to…
Slap, slap, slap.
Slap, slap, slap!
Slap them with a tax!
Slap. Slap!
Slap them with a tax!
I don’t want to be your lover,
I just want to control
what’s in your cupboard.
Slap, slap!
Slap them with a tax!
I don’t want to be your doctor
I just want to decide
What's proper.
Slap, slap!
Slap them with a tax!
I don’t want to be your banker,
Just the confiscator of your
Stash, stash, stash!
I don’t want to be your savior,
Just your reg-you-lay-tor, 
Until you meet your Undertaker.
Now, no more lip as I count the bullets in your clips.
Peace.
 15 Steps then a Shear Drop!

Thursday, July 5, 2012

It's Powerful Stuff

Some years ago I started doing commentary on current events through the use of musical comedy. Unfortunately, it led to uncontrolled weeping so I stopped. Still, I like putting my thoughts in song (yes, song!), and here is my latest attempt. Think Punk Rock. Starts sweet, ends loud.

Clerk Power

I know you think I'm heaven sent
The greatest hope your world presents.
Your situation's critical
But to me you're typical.

Bad vibrations,
In creation.
Alienation
fills the nation.
Check the box, don't pout!
Just fill -- your forms out.
We must know you. Or we'll no you.
Yes, we know you. And will no you.
Don't break the mold. It fits you.
That moldy mold? Is for you.
Clerk Power. Clerk Power.

I got you feeling desperate
The needs you have are barely met.
But leave no blanks upon the form,
Always behave within the norm.
I'll estrange you.
Rearrange you.
Bad vibrations
Fill creation.
Alienation,
throughout the nation.
I will serve you,
On a platter.
Does it matter? Do you matter?
Clerk Power! Clerk Power!
Clerk Power! Clerk Power!

I know you think I'm heaven sent
The greatest chance your world presents.
But before solutions are devised
All interviews must be reprized.

I'll estrange you!
Rearrange you!
Take your measure?
At my pleasure!
Fill the forms out.
Does it fit now?
Have a cow, now?
Don't act crazy!
Take a nap now.
Don't be lazy!
Or outrageous
It's contagious!
Here to serve you,
On a platter.
Does it matter? Does it matter?
Don't you matter? Do you matter?
Clerk Power! Clerk Power! Clerk Power!
Whew. I was shouting a bit much at the end there. Calm. Down. When did the slogan All Power to the People become All Power to the Clerks?  When the people shouting "All Power to the People" became clerks.

With apologies to Kurt Cobain.