You Can Call Me King

(to the tune of Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”)

And on the 8th day the Lord said “shit, I’m working harder than I thought” …

Day 8 of a Trump parody a day until the election, a re-posting of some of my tunes that I started this past Sunday.

Re-visiting Paul Simon and another one of my faves.

I’m a fan of the “Na Na’s”.

(originally posted March 7, 2020)

You Can Call Me King

A man lies as he breathes
He says why would you trust another now
Who can you possibly trust
Now I’ve shown you what my facts is
A fascist truth sledgehammer
Nuthin’ else believe-able matters
Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown

(and a-oooh ah-oooh)

Lap dogs in orange swamplight
Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses

Newsman, newsman
Get these facts away from me, ya know,
No one finds real truth interesting anymore

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Czar

This man original Trumper says
There can never be a never me
If there’s a never me they’ll never be
Happy in a sea of me
Where will the answers come from
If I don’t truly be-lieve
Who will I turn to when
The truth slaps me
Awake and awake
To the harsh realities
Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness
Hammers and sickles
Getting stocked up in the open
Along with some of the finest cossack hats

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me King
You can call me King

A man late night he’s tweeting
How he’s a victim in this world
Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world
Where they’re just out to get him
And they don’t see his genius
Or see how great he his
The greatest all narcissists
Surrounding himself with nothing more than
Clowns clowns
Who dance for him like marionettes
In a tiny orange circus

He checks the mirror again
Sees Messiah staring back at him
At least that’s what the hacks say
And he so believes them

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Don

Just call me king-na-na
You can kiss my ring na-na
Loyalties the thing na-na
Better never sing na-na
I’ll take your everything na-na

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Better give up mind now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
You’ll be just fine now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Just a matter of time now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Democracy dies now

If you’ll loyalty me blind

I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring

I can call you subject

And subject you adore me

You can call me King

Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends

(to the tune of Sergeant Pepper)

Day 7 of 17 days worth of Trump parody tunes until the election.

(Originally posted at Frankenberry’s Attic @ Blogspot – 06-30-19)


Baby General’s Golden Black Heart’s Band / Sky’s Orange When You’ve Got Blind Friends

It was two plus years ago today

That baby general came to have his say

In a propagandist fascist style

With his lies he’d go the extra mile

He’d hammer them unto the red

IQ’s regressing in his stead

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band


We’re baby general’s golden black heart’s band

We play you all ya need to know

Baby general’s golden black heart’s klan

The torches are only for show

Baby general’s cor-rupt

Baby general’s morally

Baby general’s bankrupt black heart’s band


There’s nothing to be seen here

Just back room in the know

There’s such important work be done

Now won’t you all just pray with us

We love it when you’re dumb


We don’t want you to be in the know

But we make you feel you’re in the show

Keep you happy swimming in the glow

Helps suck you in the undertow

Now let us to present to you

The sad and lonely Orange years

Baby general’s golden black heart’s band


Trump D’s victim’s tears…


What would you say if I sang you a lie

So obvious you can’t deny?

But you take it and then get to singin’ along

Cause re-ality it don’t apply


Oh, the sky’s purple when you’ve got blind friends

Mmm it’s any color when the truth gets bent

Mmm the sky’s orange is the new message sent


What would you say if I filled you with hate

Gave you an enemy you could detest

Locked them away less than human they’re caged

As you lend deaf ear to mankind’s rage


Oh, the sky’s black to go along with blue

Mmm your hu-manity now shares that hue

Mmm your sold souls invent a diff-er-ent view


Could you think you need saving?

That will surely come bust

Do you need to get praying?

But only to an orange need’s lust


Where will we be when sad histr’y holds true

(do you re-alize that there’s a cost?)

It’s measured in lives deemed be less than they be

(can you jus-tify the ones we toss?)


Oh you get by when smallish minds stay small

Mmm to think more’s an order way too tall

Ooohh there’s no longer a sure one for all


Do you feel the en-emy’s breath

(when it’s their last just at our door-step)

Does it feel sad em-powerin’

(to de-value them as he has pled)


Oh you get by when it’s a think of group

Mmm it’s much eas’r in an ignorance troupe

Mmm you ‘splain why but only in a vacuum

Yes you get by

Believin’ nationalist lies

You’re just a means to his end


Karen’s Been Triggered

(to the tune of “Eleanor Rigby” with lyrics by Rick Cross)

Day 6 of a Trump parody tune a day till the election that started this past Sunday.  17 days worth.

Eleanor Rigby is one of my favorite Beatles tunes and, with my initial thought with these parodies to build an “album’s” worth of Beatles songs Eleanor Rigby certainly came to mind as a song subject, but I was afraid I could never hit the “Ahhh’s” so I didn’t even try.

Then my buddy Rick, a buddy of more than 30 years now dating back to our time at WVU when he was the editor of the school newspaper and I was some grad student stranger who approached him with an idea for regular humor column about two off center fictional WVU students and best pals and their adventures on campus. I knew I liked him when he didn’t laugh me out of his office for just walking in off the street to ask for a  column. That column ended up working out pretty well, along with our friendship. 

Anyway, not too long ago he sent me some lyrics he’d written to Eleanor Rigby. They were perfect for our troubled and maddening times.  After giving him the thumbs up at words well done I thought to take a “singing” stab at it, hell he did the hard part right? All I had to do was actually see if I could hit the “Ahhh’s”

(originally posted May 16, 2020)

Note: The sad #’s in this were from the time it was written. They obviously have gotten so much sadder.


Karen’s Been Triggered

Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people


Karen’s been triggered

Pickets outside of a church where a gay wedding’s been

This love is a sin

Waits at her stylist in an angry red face mask that matches her MAGA hat’s tinge

Where to begin?


All the frightened people

Why do they hide their eyes?

All the angry people

While our republic dies


President Donnie

Face slack and ugly and troll-like and ready to sneer

Mindless drones cheer

Look at him preening

Feckless old monster, his mantra is greed, hate and fear

Let’s end his career


All the selfish people

Who teaches them this stuff?

All the stubborn people

How many dead’s enough?


Ahhh, look at all the hateful people

Ahhh, look at these ungrateful people


Karen’s still triggered

Gasping for air on machines in a hospital hall

Why won’t her god call?

President Donnie

Shrugs and ignores digging up 80,000 new graves

It’s money he craves


All the coughing people (Ah, look at all the hateful people)

Was Easter service nice?

All the toxic people (Ah, look at these ungrateful people)

Who’ll make no sacrifice…

It Was A Dead Day

(to the tune of Paul Simon’s “The Boy In The Bubble”)

Day 5 of a Trump parody a day for 17 days until the election. Decided in my sanity saving fun that I came to like Paul Simon tunes after doing  a version of “You Can Call Me Al” (another of my parody faves that will be included here before done). There’s a bounce to them and who doesn’t like a good bounce? A version of “Me And Julio Down By The Schoolyard” will also be in the mix to come. 

But anyway, here is a “Boy In The Bubble” take.

(originally posted in the Attic May 23, 2020)



It Was A Dead Day

It was a dead day

A day to start dying

Cavalier severe consequence

Another bold lie

Masquerading as bravado

Self preservation festering

As it always does


These were the days of self-interest and some bluster

It was the usual roll … call

Of made up facts and imaginary figures

All in a spotlight’s glow

A new ways for a sudden realization

Of a daily narcissistic’s call

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And Baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie


It was a cruel truth

As it swept across a nation

That we weren’t prepared

As we wished we could

Have been more in line

With science not a State News

As the blame game took root

Following us around … us around


These are the days of stupidity and blunder

A Lysol dream much better than vaccine

The way the presser was a mini rally e-vent

Until embarrassment called

The way the pundits try to search a new distraction

A shiny catch of wandering eye

These are the days of stupidity and blunder

And baby I’ll lie, I’ll lie

… I’ll lie


It’s extreme now a violence

A base that’s so inclined to such

Encouraged to stray from the middle of the road

Down an angry dark path of ignorance and bullets

Dead innocents in Michigan for what a maskless sake?


These are the days of cowards passing muster

Try and make a momma so proud

A certain sense of purpose of the stupid

Empowered by the man upstairs

These are the days of stupidity and bluster

Momma’s proud somewhere

So proud a follower of the Trump Dumb Down

In his wake blindly with no care oh yeah


The way you find yourself and your own violence

But then you just have to cry

At the thought that drove you in the first place


Oh my

Oh my …

Trumpian Design

(to the tune of “Industrial Disease” – Dire Straits)

Day 4 of the posting of one of my Trump parodies everyday (from this past Sunday) until the election.

Now of course, with all the parody tunes I’ve put together over the last couple of years I do have some favorites. This is one of them as it’s my favorite Dire Straits song and it’s also my second version of this. I did one years ago, to the topic of creationism trying to disguise itself as actual science under the moniker Intelligent Design, as part of a radio morning show here in the Hudson Valley, so doing a new version brought back some fond memories. I still miss that show.

The intro is a bit long, song kicks in around the :54 mark.

(originally posted here in the Attic December 7, 2019)


Trumpian Design

There’s warning light’s a flashin’ for a Trumpian reprieve

There was some election riggin’, with some Russians up a sleeve

But Dem’s they did some diggin’ to more meddlin’ goin’ round

And now they’re out to make sure that the walls they come down


There’s a meeting in the Congress they’re talkin’ of impeach

One side says yes let’s do it, to the other it’s a reach

But the other side’s brought nothing but debunked conspiracies

Goodness me could this be a Trumpian Disease?


The President feels justified in talking to the folks

Refusin’ to be quieted and sayin’ it’s no joke

His phone call it was perfect, no ulterior design

He wasn’t tryin’ get help for this new election time


But there’s panic for the Elephant’s these Donkeys all are nuts

The oft repeated tired spin will tell you what is what

That the problem that persists with the Dems all of the time

Is them fighting against great leader’s Trumpian Design


State news pundits sure are down with perpetuating lies

Even Moscow Tucker claims he’d be Ok with Russian ties

Of rooting them to victory if that need be the case

Or condemning ol’ Ukraine to help trump D who’s his ace

And Trumpy’s lackey lapdogs are now picking up the pace

Of lies needed protect him ‘fore the Senate do they race

Where they’re better able set the Circus Trump he so inclines

To make a victim’s case and prove his Trumpian Design


Now William The Low Barr declared

There’s no crimes to be seen here, he’s the President ya know

He’s above law, never fear

Now he hired me to be his hatchet gun and yes man shill

To protect from prosecution while I drink this orange swill


So I openly investigate investigators then

Prove wacky 4 chan theories of disloyal deep state men

So I can come back with a pre-determined breaking news release

That will prove out the correctness of a Trumpian Disease


Now we go down Washington DC where they’re in the muck

Of a swamp that ain’t been drained just deeper & run amok

With all his jailhouse friends most found under a bus

But there’s still some who are waitin’ to hear a pardon’s fuss


While his blood bound GOP who he’s got upon their knees

Say yes sir, no sir, of course sir, anything that you please

We’ll protect you oh great leader from the dreaded Dem blue sleaze

We’ll throw up smoke & mirrors for you on your Trump Trapeze


They’ll point out they’re the enemy to keep folks mute & blind

That they should be a’feared of Dems & all those of their kind

That they speak of socialism & the evils of the trees

But you’re the God chose new Messiah heaven gave ya keys


Meanwhile God just throws his hands exasperation real

He can’t believe what is unfolding just what is the deal

A party selling country out while building a lie shrine

To their new Monarch’s Trumpian Design


Yeh, that’s it … a Trumpian Design … Hey producer guy? Yeh, you … can we get the sound of ya know of tanks and a flyover here or somethin’? … the sound of boots too, tall ones, really hard heels … boots doin’ some marchin’ … well crowd noise, good idea … get some crowd noise …  big crowd noise though, ‘kay? … then, maybe throw in some of the best words from some of the best speeches … by any President … ever … this is gonna be great …

Dashed Hopes

3rd day of re-posts of my parody tunes, one a day until the election. A recent one and a bit of Sinatra. 

(originally posted on August 1, 2020)



Dashed Hopes

Next time you’re downed

With your neck on the ground

Under Trump secret hounds

Hope you’ll be found


Just what makes that orange old rat

Think he controls like with a mob bat

Pretending to be a strong man

Like his tyrannical pals


Yes, we’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got dashed hopes

We’ve got Trump in the ear wishin’ we’re deaf hopes


But any time you cannot breathe

When your eyes they bleed

Just remember that rat


Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another tear gas ball

Ooops there goes another pro-jec-tile

Ooops there goes another despotic rant


When trouble calls

And self interest rules all

Re-election a must

Make show of balls


Now there is a William Low Barr

His lies to the public taken so far

Now he just has to double down

To protect his said rat


Cause he’s a dasher of law

He’s a masher of truth

He’s a disingenuine hack a liar’s real Babe Ruth


So anytime you hear Barr speak

Know the truth’s been tweaked

It actually just don’t exist


Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another Low Barr lie

Ooops there goes another Low Barr try

Anoint Trump King and see democracy die




Big problems don’t seem to be enough

To try and make death stop

When power’s priority’s top


Ohhhhh …

Ooops there goes another blame to throw

Ooops there goes more ignorance in the flow

Ooops there goes some even more childish woe


Ya think?

Orange Quarantine



(originally posted August 9, 2019)

Re-posting one of my Trump parody tunes every day until the election. Another Beatles take (there’s quite a few actually).


In the land that we call home

Lives a man who was born to be

A simple con, liar and cheat

Living in an orange quarantine

But in this land he would conceive

A man-boy King of him he would be crowned

And to the law he’d not be bound

In his new found Orange Quarantine 


We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Trading truth for beans, an Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

The lies come with a sheen in an Orange Quarantine


Blind loyal friends all love the ride

Cheer-fully they chide Democ-racy

A prop-a-gandist band does play


We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where truth is rarely seen in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Trump’s pockets full of green, in an Orange Quarantine


(Full speed backward, full speed back stupid USA

Blindly so it is general

Look the other way for me… drop the law if you please

Will do general. General?)


As we live a life unease

All the rich of us (all the rich of us)

Has what they need (has what they need)

To the rest (to the rest)

Shoulder your part (shoulder your part)

In this Trickle Down (in this trickle down)

Quarantine (quarantine…HA HA!)


We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where ignorance is King in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Of woe we’ll surely sing in an Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Bizarro is the norm in this Orange Quarantine

We all live in an Orange Quarantine

Where scary does take form in an Orange Quarantine

I Am The Con Man

Not that I need to tell anyone but it’s almost upon us. The most important election of our lifetimes, maybe of them all. Do we choose a creeping self serving authoritarianism or do we choose something with a bit of hope? I think I’ve made myself pretty clear where I stand over these four Trump dumbed down years and, as to that, I’ve written, sung and then built out some parody songs, almost 30 of them now and posted them here in the Attic.

I brought this number up when talking with a bestest of friends recently and he had the bestest of ideas. Re-post one a day up until election time. I thought yeh, why the heck not?

So Tally-Ho then.

Though I did a take on “Keep Your Hands To Yourself” to start, this was basically my first tune, my first in an eventual album’s worth of Beatles covers and then other tunes to follow.

(originally posted 12-24-18)

I am me as I love me and you are me
And we love me together
See how we plumb we’re pigs for the dumb
See dollars run
I’m genius

Sitting on a tax cut
Waiting for some yen to fly
Corporate stock big buy back, stupid farmer loyals
Man you’re all bunch of rubes
You let your Trump grow long

I am the Charlatan
You are the simpletons
I am the Con Man
Goo goo ga-rube

Mr Mrs Congress sitting
Pretty always at my beck and call
See how they buy with a gleam in their eye
See how they buy
My buuuuuulllshit….
They’re buuuuuuying….they’re buuuuuying…I’m lyyyyyyyyyyying!

Yellow ting-ed dollars
Making me a buck or three
Trumpy props’ll bring it home, tradeymarks’ll get it done
Boy I am a wealthy man
I sold the White House down

I am the Charlatan
You are the simpletons
I am the Con Man
Goo goo ga-rube

…Sitting in a rose-ed garden
Waiting chance to lie
And if the lie don’t play
I’ll own my fake by keeping up a perfect face…

I am the Charlatan
You are the simpletons
I am the Con Man
Goo goo ga-rube goo goo goo ga-rube

No one tells me what to do it’s just the base that’s thinking that I’m true
See them form a mob call enemies a slob
See how they cry
For vengeance

No one checking numbers, they take me at my less than word
Money out of pocket, suck it up they musty
Man they are so dumb believe that this is something good

I am the Charlatan
You are the simpletons
I am the Con Man
Goo goo ga-rube goo goo ga-rube, goo goo ga-rube ga goo goo ga-rube ga goo

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The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason and Tyranny – Ep #17: “Flashdancing and Throwing Shit”

Another conversation in the Treehouse between the leader of the free world and his trusty man servant Benfred (as played by Ben Carson – he’s gotta have something to do other than nothing or screwing the little guy)

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man RBG Haters Club)

From a few weeks ago

Benfred: (coming in with coffee and scones – suddenly alarmed) Sir? … Ummm … are you alright?

Donnie: (some music – dancing embarrassingly)

Benfred: Are you … dancing? …

Donnie: … I’m fine Ben …

Benfred: … and singing? … or at least what amounts to …

Donnie: (prancing about and singing out loud) … I’m all good Benfred

Benfred: You look like a drunk uncle at a wedding just minus a beer being spilled all over the dancefloor. Is that Flashdance?

Donnie: … just waiting for my moment my minority friend! (dancing continues)

Benfred: … so thus the chair … I get it … who’s that guy with the bucket of water?

Donnie: Miguel. Grabbed him from the Rose Garden

Miguel: Sigh

Donnie: Sent his buddies to Home Depot

Benfred: Home Depot?

Donnie: Yeh, didn’t need ‘em anymore. Garden looks great, Melania is happy, plenty of pickup trucks for them to hop in for the day. Miguel though, he’s the man! Right Kemosabe?

Miguel: Sigh

Benfred: I’m missing something I think

Donnie: She’s dead Ben

Benfred: She’s dead? Who’s dead?

Donnie: That nasty little woman who said mean, nasty things about me and who I think John Roberts was starting to listen to

Benfred:  I’m lost here sir

Donnie: (dancing stops) … Miguel, I’m good, grassyass, there’s an envelope in the silverware drawer …

Miguel: Sigh

Donnie: It’s all counted by the way, especially the spoons. Consider it a test Miguel … (fingers to eyes and back) … eyes on you Miguel

Miguel: Sigh

Benfred: is that all he says … “sigh”?

Donnie: Yeh that’s it. He speaks a single word here in a Frankenberry post and suddenly he somehow gets union rate even without papers. I don’t get it. Hate unions … Hey, can you grab the bucket instead?

Benfred: What?

Donnie: Can you grab the bucket?

Benfred: For what sir?

Donnie: (dragging the chair and placing right in the middle of the Treehouse’s office floor)

Benfred: That’s gonna scratch

Donnie: (sitting) Ok, hit me.

Benfred: ??

Donnie: Hit me. (leaning back in chair) Pour it over my head

Benfred: Sir?

Donnie: (with that lean and head back) just do it Ben!

Benfred: I’m not comfortable with this Sir

Donnie: Oh Ben, there’s nothing to worry about, you can trust me, just do it

Benfred: Trust you? The last time I did something like this when you said it was Ok you sicked the Secret Service guys on me ….

Donnie: Hey, something about water and a bridge. It’s Ok, nothing to worry about now …

Benfred : … and I still have those knee impressions on my neck … see … right here … they’re like a tattoo now

Donnie: Ok, fine, Joykill. I’ll just call Miguel back

Benfred: You can’t

Donnie: Why not?

Benfred: ICE just picked him up

Donnie: Really? Damn they’re good. And I liked him.

Benfred: But why are you dancing and singing sir, why the happy, that’s so not like you. And why Flashdance for heaven’s sake?

Donnie: Well I started with another song from some old movie where a house falls on a Democrat and all the little republican people were singing my name and everything was golden after that, and there was a long walk along a road paved with my new found money and they all discovered what they were missing in themselves that they already had right here in me but I couldn’t remember the words and Miguel was just a bit too tall to really get the vibe.

Benfred: But Flashdance?

Donnie: What? You don’t like the classics?

Benfred: Well, ummm … sure Jennifer Beals was great …

Donnie: Jennifer who?

Benfred: Jennifer Beals? The star of the movie?

Donnie: You sure it wasn’t Judy Garland?

Benfred: Yeh quite sure, but aside from that, I’m just missing why the happy?

Donnie: She croaked just in time Benfred

Benfred: Who?

Donnie: That nasty little RPG

Benfred: Uh, a real player game someone?

Donnie: No, that IUD?

Benfred: Most assuredly not that.

Donnie: Oh wait, it was that MPG, yeh that’s it! MPG! Props to my Big Oil peeps!

Benfred: Hold on, are you talking about Justice Ginsberg?

Donnie: Is it the one they’re selling cool T-shirts with those initials now and images that are a thumb in my eye? How did she rate cool T-shirts?

Benfred: If you mean Ruth Bader Ginsberg, yes. But she had quite a distinguished career and built quite a loyal following.

Donnie: Well, dummies don’t even realize that her initials don’t spell out MPG, intellectuals my ass, but still she’s dead Ben and now I get another pick in the draft and just in time

Benfred: ??

Donnie: That’s my happy. My new Supreme Court Team. My just in case.

Benfred: Just in case?

Donnie: You’ll see.


(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Sagging #’s Haters Club)

Benfred: (walking into the study surprised to find Donnie there and …) whoa sir! (looking away) what the hell are you doing?!

Donnie: (caught off guard and holding his pants right around his knees) What?

Benfred: Man, could you pull those up please? I’d like to sleep nightmare free tonight. What is this all about?

Donnie: I was just getting’ ready to throw some more shit at the wall before the election.

Benfred: Seriously?

Donnie: Yeh, that’s what Bannon used to say he was doin’ all the time. Though his was more in an overload distraction kinda shit against the wall way, so people wouldn’t notice what we were really doing

Benfred: It’s just a figure of speech sir.

Donnie: Figure? A shapely one I hope, maybe on the blonde or dirty blonde light brown side, but since when do they speak?

Benfred: No … it’s a metaphor, just something people say when …

Donnie: Ummm a what? A Meta-whore (almost excited)?

Benfred: No sir, not a meta whore …

Donnie: … (deflated) damn

Benfred: it’s a meta … oh, never mind. It’s just something people say when they want to throw a bunch of ideas out there to see which one “sticks”, but usually it’s used in a creative, constructive way, not really what you’re thinking here

Donnie: Well hell Ben, all shit’s gonna stick if you throw it at a wall (laughingly rolling his eyes thinking “duh” with his pants starting to drop)

Benfred: Sir, your belt?

Donnie: What … oh, right

Benfred: It’s not meant literally, to throw shit …

Donnie: …wait, wait, “literally”, I know that one. I know the best words, got ‘em all right here (tapping on the noggin … then readjusting his hair) well except for that meta whore one, been to school you know. Ok like, uhhhh … oh, my head literally exploded when that evil little elf Sessions recused himself from the Russia investigation back when. Or better yet, a sports one, football, ‘cause I brought football back you know, though no one’ll give me credit … so everything’s back to normal … no more Corona … ok here it is … they literally buried that guy in the backfield just now. See Benfred, I literally know my shit right? (self satisfied nod)

Benfred: Sorry sir. That’s figuratively, not literally. Your head didn’t explode, there were no headstones in the backfield, no shallow graves.

Donnie: HaHa! Shallow graves. Story for a future time. Figure, again Benfred? And that one sounds extra sexy with those extra letters. Always end up talkin’ my language now don’t we?

Benfred: Yes sir, apparently we do. I get Miguel’s “sighs” now. Ok, what kind of figurative “shit” are you throwing at a wall.

Donnie: Everything Ben, mostly stuff I didn’t really care about, or promised but never delivered on but now am doing all at once to try to show the American people that I’m really on my side.

Benfred: Um?

Donnie: Their side, on their side.

Benfred: Right.

Donnie: Like those health care plan executive orders I mic dropped on the people, like Boom, quite impressive.

Benfred: (robotically) Yes, you’re very dynamic. Are you talking about those slap dash executive orders that are pretty flimsy and that you probably don’t even have the authority to issue? That sudden health care “plan”?

Donnie: Whoa now Nelly. I got a Sharpie and the Presidency, I can decree anything into existence I want especially at the last minute out of political desperation. And what about that part where I say pre-existing medical conditions are covered. My idea by the way.

Benfred: You mean the same pre-existing condition coverage that’s part of the Obamacare you’ve been trying to dismantle for years?

Donnie: Hey, my pre-existings are sooooo much cooler (aside to a full length mirror – because of course they are) and I also made up some pretty sweet sounding numbers about how much people will be able to save versus that Obama nightmare. Big savings numbers Ben (aside to mirror again with a sly smile – because it’s always big with the Don)

Benfred: Gotcha

Donnie: And I survived, by the grace of god of course, the Corona, so people are viewing me in a new more heroic light now. Much more fitting if you ask me and now my last ditch is coming from a hero.

Benfred: Yeh, the timing and optics on that was pretty convenient huh?

Donnie: Damn right it was … no wait … no, the timing was just … it was just … but I was ill and I faced it down, head on like a real man, like a real leader should and no one can dispute that Ben!!

Benfred: Those NDA’s from the folks at Walter Reed help though

Donnie: Fuck yeh … what? No, those are just are just common practice.

Benfred: What about those two Doc’s that wouldn’t sign off on them?

Donnie: Quacks … plus I found out where they live.

Benfred: Lunch?

Donnie: Famished

Benfred: Well I can whip up a little lemon pepper chicken breast with just a hint of …

Donnie: … got anything in the way of a burger?

Benfred: Ok, we can do that too. Door Dash?

Donnie: Sure. Apparently the Secret Service dudes take offense at being the runners.

Ode To Donnie Low … (song)



Was feelin’ a bit down home and almost bluesy


Ode To Donnie Low


It was the fourth of year in a constant dumbing despot play

A nation watched him bloat and bluster in another Trump crude display

As is often case what he’s a part of falls into dis-a-rray 

As decorum’s norms at podium fell under loud combative sway

And then it all blew up with warnings of a future could be so dire

Seems Trump and vision future just jumped us off realities bridge


And concern arose in all smart circles of a tried true tell

Of a rigged democracy and to just who he was he trying to sell

That we couldn’t trust results even before they were told

Of ballots that were tossed the ranks of which could soon be swelled

Or of others mailed fraudulent to send Trump to loser’s hell

But now his desperate warning threats just jumped us off realities bridge


And now the white’s the right and condemning well that just ain’t right

It’s a proud boy base of blood and bats and guns all itchin’ for a fight

To just “stand by” is call from boss to save us from an oh dark’s blight

There’s a ‘merica that needs be saved a sad history to re-white

A call to arms in wait for the time when the fight’s just right

So this comes surreal time now for us to jump off that bridge


Now William Low Barr the law helps conspiracies along

Speaks in lawyerly terms of our well used systems being wrong

You can’t trust what you’ve known all along it’s just some pretty birdsong

No, he’ll parrot bogus claims of fraud all to deceive the throng

The Prez is always right and always will be with Low Barr along

While great leader’s tinpot madness just jumped us off realities bridge.


So Low Barr investigates still to revise a past so wrong

There’s an alternate reality he’s mocking up for us be shown

Where there was no interference but a deep state hating Trump all along

No foreign interests who’s agenda Trump’s election could help be sown   

No Vlad or other favorite tyrants whose worlds Trump wish he could own

It’s was a then with help that Orange started jumping off realities bridge


Note:  I left my keyboard as I was writing this for the thought of a pee break which I do a lot these days, just the thought it seems more often than not, but I left it just during writing the bit about Trump’s not disavowing and instead empowering white supremacists. While gone Mimi the Quirky, as she often does, lingered on my keyboard as she stepped across it lightly in her tappy-tap quirky kind of way, but not lightly enough, to try and quickly commandeer Shoes’s chair before I returned.

She lightly cat footedly typed this …


… that’s a lot of “K’s” and you could interpret the p[p[p[p[p[p[p[p[‘s as a sort of raspberry sound if you will.

Though a bit exaggerated, nicely done Memes.