THE BUSH-CHENEY BLUES

Sung to the tune of "Summertime Blues"

Well I’m gonna raise a fuss and I’m gonna raise a holler
‘Cause I’m working more than ever but I cannot save a dollar
Insurance costs keep rising and I can’t fill my tank
The note is coming due and I can’t face the bank
Sometimes I have to wonder what I’m a-gonna do
But there ain’t no cure for the Bush-Cheney blues.

On Iraq they’re spinning “progress” while they’re wasting lives and money
While O’Reilly’s more concerned about the sacred Easter bunny
But the Rethugs are clever and they don’t miss a trick
In a pinch they can blame it on those darn Dixie Chicks
Sometimes I have to wonder what we’re a-gonna do
But there ain’t no cure for the Bush-Cheney blues.


Well I’m writing in a blog ‘cause I’m dying of frustration
The wretched Bushies are determined to attack another nation
I’d like to think the Democrats would win the midterm vote,
But our chance of taking Congress is too darn remote
We’re stuck for three more years with this gang without a clue
And there ain’t no cure for the Bush-Cheney blues.

Tags: Bush-Cheney blues

GETTING TO CLEAR HIM

With apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein:


It’s a very ancient saying
(And a true and honest thought)
That if you do what’s illegal
There’s the chance you might be caught.
As a voter I’ve been learning
When old Dubya breaks the law
There’s a privilege in Congress
That affords more shock and awe:
Getting to clear him.

Getting to clear him,
Changing the law to protect him
Rushing to clear him
That is their priority
“We are at war!” and
Putting it their way concisely
That is precisely
Why he gets off free.

Eager to clear him,
They abdicate their sworn duty
Won’t get their booty
Daring to investigate
Haven’t you noticed
Everything’s just rootin’-tooty?
So why should any Republican obsess
Should the president transgress
They dictate.

BANG BANG

With apologies to Nancy Sinatra -- and Cher:

Both members of the good ol' boys,
And each armed with our shootin' toys,
We took the dogs along to hunt
And then I got the ace affront.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, Dick Cheney shot me down.

Now this is how it all occurred --
Since I was first to bag my bird
I went aside to seek it out
And when I did, I came about.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, I hit the ground
Bang bang, that awful sound
Bang bang, that idjut shot me down.

I could hear him cursing then,
"Just how is this one going to spin?"

Now somehow it's become my fault:
It's adding insult to assault.
But I'll say nothing to dissent
For I am not Vice President.

Bang bang, he shot me down
Bang bang, that stupid clown
Bang bang, I'm now renowned
Bang bang, Dick Cheney shot me down...

THIS IS GEORGE BUSH'S WORLD

(Sung to the tune of the old hymn
This Is My Father's World):


This is George Bush's world --
I tremble at the thought
That Cheney rules while Dubya drools
And rants about terrorist plots.

This is George Bush's world
Where fear absolves his crimes;
It lets him lie, on the people spy --
It's all justified by the times!

(chorus)
This is George Bush's world,
9/11 changed it all.
Bush said invade, it's a new crusade,
And henceforth I'm above the law.

This is George Bush's world
And its wealth meant for the few.
To fund tax breaks for the well-heeled's sakes
Assistance to the poor he'll eschew.

This is George Bush's world,
It reflects his hopes and dreams
For power, greed, and a zealot's need
To dominate us all with his schemes.

This is the Bushies’ world
But it’s only theirs on lease
In three years’ time we can boot the slime,
Restore our nation’s honor and peace.

IT'S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE FITZMAS

(Sung to the tune of "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas":)

It's beginning to look a lot like Fitzmas
Everywhere you go,
Prosecutors are making lists
Of Libbys and Roves and Frists
And more Rethugs fear Scanlon's set to blow.
It's beginning to look a lot like Thriftmas
'Specially for the poor,
'Cause the Congress is cutting back on the benefits they lack
To finance the war.

Homes without silt and a city rebuilt
New Orleans wants to know when,
Food for the tykes and a simple wage hike
Is the wish of all working men,
And Moms and Dads can hardly wait for their boys to come home again.

It's beginning to look a lot like Giftmas
Only for the rich.
As Republicans cut their tax, their income will soar to max,
But only to make more jobs, now that's the pitch.
It's beginning to look a lot like Switchmas,
When Dubya's plans all flop
And he has no true defense he goes on the Swift offense
So his negs will drop,
He's the spinning top.

SCOOTER'S SONG

(With apologies to Mayhew)

Be sure it's true what you tell the grand jury
It's a crime to tell a lie
Lives and careers have been broken
Just because untruths were spoken

Fitzgerald's a man of honor
Just obstruct and he'll indict
So be sure it's true
What you tell the grand jury
It's a crime to tell a lie.

"BAGHDAD ON THE BAYOU"

-- With apologies to Hank Williams' Jambalaya --
(Dedicated to Joe Allbaugh, Jack Abramoff, Halliburton, George Bush, Dick Cheney, Michael Brown, Tom DeLay et al)

1.
Goodbye, Joe, you've gotta go, oh-me-oh-my-oh
And old Jack, you'd best jump back, you felony-oh
No-bid jobs, that's for slobs, someday they'll fry-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

(chorus:)
Tell me why they have to ply the mumbo-jumbo
Took a big whack at old Iraq and look like dumbos
Gov'mint run by cronies, that you can't deny-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

2.
The same old stars that lost dinars by the billions
They're hired in haste and they will waste our hard-earned zillions,
And with guile go hog wild, suck us dry-oh
Oh what a drag, they'll make Baghdad on the bayou.

3.
Play guitar, name a czar, and run away-oh
Exercise, reel off some lies and some cliche-oh
Construct a frame, divert the blame to some small fry-oh
Oh what a drag, he'll make Baghdad on the bayou!

THE CITY OF NEW ORLEANS

(With apologies to Arlo Guthrie)

Stranded in the city of New Orleans
Many thousands watch the levees fail
Daring flooded streets to get to safety
Hopes and cries for help do not avail

And on their desperate odyssey the stream of dire humanity
Find shelter fraught with perils so surreal
Their hunger biting, children cry, the poor and old and weak they die
And no one comes to answer their appeal

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Days go by, with all the nation watching
Tens of thousands wretchedly await
But no rescue comes and all the world starts wond’ring
If to die in squalor was their fate

And the president flies overhead and worries ‘bout Trent Lott instead
What does his strange reaction there betray?
And mothers clutch their fevered babes while politicians exchange praise
And promise aid in practiced, smooth clichés.

Good mornin' America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

Night time in the city of New Orleans
Darkness reigns, dismay is in the air
Thirst and hunger raging, gunshots echo,
Punctuating infinite despair.

And all the domes and people seem to play into macabre dreams
But FEMA says it still ain’t heard the news
The pres makes no apologies, a million more are refugees
A city lost while Dubya took a snooze.

Good night America, how are you?
Don't you know me? I'm your native sons!
I'm the pain they call the city of New Orleans
I'll be gone 500 miles when the week is done.

CINDY'S SONG

(Sung to the tune of Joe Hill)

I dreamed I was near Crawford town
Beneath the Texas sun
A-standing in the noonday heat
To watch Bush come undone,
To watch Bush come undone.

His nemesis, a grieving mom,
Had come to question why
For ego, oil or something else
Her cherished lad must die,
Her cherished lad must die.

“Young Casey died for freedom’s sake,”
The chickenhawks replied,
And Bush endorsed that sad cliché
And hoped she would subside,
And hoped she would subside.

The powermongers and their fans
Watched Cindy stand, and flinched.
But all their vile invective failed,
She wouldn’t budge an inch.
She wouldn’t budge an inch.

Now joining her in vigil pure,
A million voices pause
To ask our leisure-loving prez,
“What is that noble cause?”
“What is that noble cause?”

But Cindy still with patience waits,
The hope of peace ignites,
Reminding us how one brave soul
Can bring a nation light
Can bring a nation light.

I dreamed I saw young Casey smile
As he watched Cindy plea
To save some other mothers' sons
I think he would agree.
I think he would agree.

LYING EYES

(With apologies to The Eagles)

Republicans sure seem to be the masters of knowing how to scam and to deceive;
Don’t matter if they bring on more disasters: the test of truth is what will be believed.
Abuses don’t exist if there’s no pictures; and if there are, it still was justified.
To listen to their wingnut spokesmen’s strictures, it’s Newsweek’s fault that anybody died.
So they issue a new talking points directive, and Rush and Sean and Scotty spew it out.
It doesn’t matter that it’s so selective; the facts don’t matter when you’ve got the clout.

You can hide your lying eyes but someday you’ll be surprised
When the truth can’t be disguised, you’ll have to answer for your lying lies.

To save jobs we need tax breaks for the wealthy, and safety nets are for the immature
And more than that, to keep our nation healthy, we need more bombs to keep us all secure.
Our energy will probably last forever since Jesus will be coming back ere long.
And gay rights will be universal never, and don’t try saying it’s a civil wrong.
It's obvious the sad state of our nation is Bush can't get his judges all confirmed.
The thing most necessary for salvation? The filibuster must be overturned.

You can hide your lying eyes but someday you’ll be surprised
When the truth can’t be disguised, you’ll have to answer for your lying lies.

On the other side, the Dems can’t just be waiting for people’s eyes to open to the facts.
It’s up to us to constantly be stating them with the boldness that the press it lacks.
On every front we need to be united and speak our message loudly with one voice.
Unless the populace can be ignited, we’re doomed for decades to be second choice.
Our efforts should be focused on creating new instruments for getting out the word
But if there's no time spent in formulating just what our message is, it won’t be heard.

You can hide your lying eyes but someday you’ll be surprised
When the truth can’t be disguised, you’ll have to answer for your lying lies.

THE DISSEMBLERS

(With apologies to Kenny Rogers)

On a warm spring’s evenin’ on a train bound for disaster
I watched the wheels go faster as it headed for the wreck,
And the train was filled with pigeons who kept sitting at a table
Where the dealers made decisions with a marked and sucker deck.

And the Democrats are pigeons, and Republicans the dealers
Who look out for the big-wheelers as they soak the middle class.
And the Dems just keep on sittin’ and their eyes are disbelievin’
As they watch the Bushies thievin’, and they take another pass.

You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to walk away, know when to run.
You never trust no Bushie, or a Frist or Hastert neither
Should have learned that they’re deceivers who’ll see us all undone.

When the dealers come a-calling with their promises of fairness
Better keep up your awareness and doubt their every word
Be it foreign or domestic, their agenda is majestic
And it’s clear that its denouement will be a world of hurt.

You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to walk away, know when to run.
You never trust no Bushie, or a Frist or Hastert either
Should have learned that they’re deceivers who’ll see us all undone.

AMERICAN DESTRUCTION

(with apologies to Barry McGuire)

Our trade imbalance, it is exploding,
The deficit alone is just too big for toting,
Our foreign affairs are just more war and goading
I’m telling you, friends, I feel a grim foreboding
But this is what we get for too few Dems a-voting,
And I tell you, over and over I see a fearsome trend
I believe could lead to American destruction.

Don’t you understand what I’m trying to say?
If the Bush administration keeps getting its way
The conservative wingnuts will lead us astray
Their idea of greatness is Bush and DeLay
And future generations will view with dismay
And I tell you, over and over I see a fearsome trend
I believe could lead to American destruction.

Tax cuts for the wealthy and not for working,
The need for decent healthcare, they’re all for shirking,
Our sacred Constitution, they’re now reworking,
And just outside your bedroom, James Dobson’s lurking,
And all the time I picture Dick and Georgie smirking,
And I tell you, over and over I see a fearsome trend
I believe could lead to American destruction.

Our way of life, it is disappearing,
Our politicians live for electioneering,
Their legislation looks more like racketeering,
The poor and middle classes cry, but they’re not hearing,
The end of progress is what Rethugs are cheering.
And I tell you, over and over I see a fearsome trend
I believe could lead to American destruction.

THE CRAVEN

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
Over some new offense by a peevish, lying wingnut boor,
While I lost more precious slumber contemplating one more bummer
By a pundit so much dumber, dumber than the one before.
"’Tis my task to become number to each hummer, that’s my chore.
Merely this, and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember when reporters would dismember
Any statement by a member speaking on the Senate floor
Not content to merely scribble every little drip and dribble,
Theirs the job to check and quibble, bringing candor to the fore.
But, alas! they’ve been co-opted, rushing us to needless war,
Doomed to just be media whores.

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your attention I implore;
But the fact is you’ve been napping while the right-wing gang is sapping
Our most treasured rights and trapping more of us among the poor.
Is your sense of pride and independence gone forever more?
Is there no return in store?”

Then at last I heard the laughter bouncing from my bedroom rafters
And I knew that ever after in the journalism corps
There would still be more annealing till they nearly all are reeling
And, I have a sinking feeling, kneeling at the Bushes’ door,
Begging access and declaring they are willing to be whores,
On their knees forever more.

THE RUMSFELD RAG

Semi-finalist in the Koufax Awards in the category of "Most Humorous Post"

(With apologies to Country Joe)

Well come on, all of you big strong men,
Uncle Sam's telling lies again,
Figured out that to fight a war
All you have to do is send the poor.
While Georgie and his buddies laugh and feast
They'll send you to the Middle East.

And it's one, two, three, what were you voting for?
Oil profits and endless war?
Did you think there was something more?
And it’s five, six, seven, let the theme reverberate:
“Muslims, gays, and liberal states,
Whoopee! We got lots to hate.”

Come conservatives throughout the land,
Now’s the time to take a stand,
Get it into liberal weenies’ heads
That the only good Iraqi is one who’s dead.
Raze their cities, destroy their lives
And convert ‘em all to Jesus Christ.

And it’s one, two, three, who were you voting for?
One deserter and a chickenhawk?
Who else could win Iraq?
And it’s five, six, seven, let the theme reverberate:
“Muslims, gays, and liberal states,
Whoopee! We got lots to hate.”

On 9/11 the country changed
And some of us became quite deranged.
With fears abounding from out and in
We launched a crusade to battle sin.
We all see something’s going wrong,
It’s about the time to drop a bomb.

And it’s one, two, three, what were you voting for?
Don’t you see or don’t you give a damn
‘Bout the lessons of Vietnam?
And it’s five, six, seven, let the theme reverberate:
“Muslims, gays, and liberal states,
Whoopee! We got lots to hate.”

HE IS THE VERY MODEL OF A GOVERNMENT EXECUTIVE

Sung to the tune of "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General" from Pirates of Penzance:

He is the very model of a government executive
His language it is doublespeak, his better half is decorative
He claims to be immaculate, his record stands for all to see
And shining through it all is his incredible mendacity
As to administration, why, his cabinet’s impeccable
And human progress, not for profit, gleefully deemed wreckable
Ambition is his only creed, his means are reprehensible
His policies will ruin us and are clearly indefensible.

(chorus)
His policies will ruin us and are clearly indefensible.

To right his wrongs may prove to be a sheer impossibility
Especially when he claims to bear no share of culpability
He’s clearly on the road to making miseries subsecutive
In practice he has been a very awful chief executive.

(chorus)
He’s clearly on the road to making miseries subsecutive
In practice he has been a very awful chief executive.

He’s very good at stoking fears and chumming with the media
His public lies are legion, they could fill encyclopedias
He’d like to see the end of what we call the social safety net
And finance his adventures with a generation’s unpaid debt
He’s not above accepting an anointment of divinity
While strutting off to further demonstrate his masculinity
By bullying and threatening, two tactics quite indicative
Of George’s nature, which is clearly cruel and vindicative.

Republicans, now heed me well, you bear responsibility
And Democrats who traffic with him will reap our hostility
Protect our nation now and please defend our Constitution
Or America will be facing its own final resolution.

HAPPY GOODBYE 2004

Sung to the tune of The Christmas Song:

Unemployment lines are stretching now,
Job security is gone.
As to Iraq and the things our troops lack --
These issues all bring on a yawn

“Cause they’re never wrong,
These Bushies and their sycophants.
Their agenda is quite clear:
Working families don’t rate in their scheme,
They’ll find it hard to eat next year.

(chorus:)
They thought that Bushie was their guy,
He told them fear the conflagration in the sky.
He said it’s Clinton’s fault that many died,
And it’s your duty now as citizens to buy.

And so he offered you this simple phrase:
“To feed the rich will help the poor.”
You bought it, he won, and now wait for the dun --
Happy goodbye, two thousand four.

WON'T BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Sung to the tune of I'll Be Home for Christmas:

Won’t be home for Christmas,
Back-door draft is here.
We were snowed and buffaloed
By Bush election cheer.

Now I’m just a pawn in
Bush and Cheney’s schemes,
The end of my enlistment
Is only in my dreams.

NIGHTMARE ON BUSH STREET

I dreamed I saw my family
What each one had become --
My son, his bones bleached in Iraq,
My mother eating crumbs,

My husband struggling to find work,
My daughter’s choice denied;
A theocratic Congress
Stole her own right to decide.

No health insurance we could pay,
My sickly grandchild passed away.
Tuition steep, my other son
Dropped out of school, his dreams undone.

I cried aloud and timely woke
The nightmare wasn’t mine
‘Twas many, many families
That suffered such decline,

A common end to what we see
Now happening in our nation
As BushCo tries to turn us
Into masters and plantation.

And those of us who see the truth
Are struggling with frustration;
He’s got us on a straightaway
To one big conflagration.