Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything … 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs … damned humans.
So last year at this holiday time my friend Linda posted of her very handsome Patrick the Cat on a spot next to a pretty Christmas tree decoration with a post that said, simply, “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick”.
Well, I couldn’t let a line like that go now could I?
‘Tis the season again Patrick.
It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Patrick
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
Take a look in his snug cat bed laying his Patrick head
With maybe a mouse or two under his toes
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Fur on every rug
Till the monster is need brought out
To suck away all hair’s clout
While Patrick runs no doubt
.
An extra can can of food or some cat nip for mood
Is his wish as any cat would
Ball with a bell and a knock it to hell
Is new wish across some hardwood
.
And Mom and Dad do funny dance to not step on cat’s pants
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Everywhere Pat goes
.
There’s a tree that is soon to rise
Each branch a new cat prize
The hanging kind just waiting for a fall
.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Snoozing underneath
And what brings that slumber best
Are the lights not put to test
With Christmas cats now at rest
. (break)
It’s beginning to look a lot like Patrick
Runnin’ cross the floor
To every cat’s Christmas dream
And the presents that will be
Box torn paper all a-skew
.
Sure it’s Patrick once more … time to puke, time to puke it’s Patrick’s time to puke.
When I came around the bend of the hallway, after the long walk to get there, they are long halls at the Paramount of Somers, really long halls, inhaler long halls after so many years of dumb, a corner bend turned, Mom was in her chair along her wall outside her room along with the others, her hallmates, her friends, new friends, along equal walls in equal chairs for those of their equal own that might offer glimpses of recognition to their own someone’s turned corner, she raised an eye.
I hadn’t been here in so long I didn’t know what to expect from an awful son’s too long a time, but she raised an eye … to a me at that corner bend.
We were back in her little one bedroom place, with me on a couch, so many years ago when she saved me from my lost, when I would get home from that momentary “whatever job” then with a raised eye. “You still doing this Stephen? Really? She’s gone … not coming back. There’s more of life out there. You’ll find it.”
She raised an eye now, with a bit of twinkle in the glance.
“Hey Ma, yeah, it’s me, how about we go to dinner, thanksgiving, and guess what, someone else is going to do the cooking”
We wheeled into a big room, community space, a lots of tables room festooned with holiday and family and resident centerpieces in small faux glass blocks of plastic flowers and fake lit candles imagining a flourish, still an awful son but one that might yet grab a bit of some redemption.
She whispered wanted tell words in my left ear.
We grabbed a night’s light at a table with Mom’s roommate and her family best and had some fun.
I put on my hat.
Whisper with a point, to the hat with a cross look?
I took off my hat
Was just waitin’ for ya to notice Ma.
She raised an eye at me around a bend’s corner, end night, in her room, whispered, “This is what I wear” pointing to some folded nighties … “can you?”
Not me Ma, give me a sec, I noted to the nurse who had just walked in and I told her of some chocolate with a caramel crunch that mom was a fan of that I was leaving in her nightstand with the promise that she would help her.
As I grabbed my coat to leave, it was cold out there tonight, a one with a torn hoodie underneath, a really rattie one …
A furrowed, disapproving glare …
Just checkin’ twice.
“And I did find things Ma” in my own whisper in her right ear, “not everything, but enough for now” …
So I’ve spent the last few months slowly posting the dialogues from the Trump Treehouse of 2018 + at Facebook. Heady days those, so much promise unfulfilled.
Well now that I have posted them all, all 17, I thought I’d put them together in one post for easy, one stop shop post reference.
You don’t have to thank me, I can feel it.
I can also feel that I might want to pick them up again anew just with different players and maybe more at stake. Ya, know like our Democracy and such.
Donnie: So Mike (Davis) where do you want to put the cages for the children, and that Gulag you sound so excited for? “Glorious” you said?
Mike: Oh, where to start? California? That would stick it to ‘em huh? Maybe San Francisco? The whole city. It will be like Christmas just a few months late when we get there. Might even be able to make a few dollars off the sideshow, charge “deplorables” to poke them with electric sticks.
Donnie: Have you seen Benfred by the way? The Treehouse is something of a mess.
Mike: Oh, I’m sure you can find a replacement. What about that jap guy with the big head who speaks for you, that …
Donnie: Cheung? Steven Cheung?
Mike: Yeah, that chink, the one with the big head, they do domestics as well right?
Donnie: Sure, but it won’t be the same
Mike: Pointy electric sticks Sir. 40 bucks a pop plus for another 40 they get a T-shirt. The memory of Benfred will fade
Donnie: What about a hat instead? You know I like hats.
Mike: You’re thinking too small sir.
Donnie: Hats? They’re all one size I’m told, have those fitted click button things on the back that confuse me.
Mike: Ok Sir, we’ll talk when I’m your new AG.
Donnie: Ok, I’m gonna take a break for right now, my doc says I’m fit as a fiddle but I’m feeling a bit tired and my top notch cognitive abilities … Squirell!!! Vlad!!! Orban!!!!
A So then Sunday going back to April and just a cool thing.
So I have this friend from my WVU days, Rob Eldridge, who plays guitar, something I’m most envious of, and back in January he posted a little ditty, as he called it, an instrumental just around a minute long and, at the time, I noted that it was waaaaay too cool. Simple and bluesy, from his lap, nonchalant, a good morning post, as he also said, that made ya wanna sing along even though there were no words, it was just him pluckin’. I kept an idea in my back pocket.
This weekend, as I did my usual, telling the world to F* off, bother me again Monday, I have cats, I thought to maybe find a few words for it.
A friend recently posted to my page of Mark Russell passing away, the great piano playing political satirist who had no qualms of pointing things out when the pointing things out actually got noticed in great halls and maybe even made some folks uncomfortable. Is there anything better? A bit of an uncomfortable squirm for those who deserve such? A Hero he was.
And for five or so years I have been building parody songs of an equal political type here in the Attic (plus others of a different sort – another time there) but they are all so much of a joy to write and sing, parodies where I find a tune’s instrumental and do my best to say things that would also maybe make some folks feel uncomfortable knowing that whoever it is that I’m satirizing deserves the uncomfortable.
Mine though have never had the same import of a Mark Russell but ya keep trying.
But, going back to this friend of mine, Rob, I thought to not make any uncomfortable statements for folks to maybe squirm but instead just add some new writ/sung words to his instrumental, no attempted point to be made.
Cheers Rob.
Step Out (an Eldridge Tune)
I stepped out as I often do step
Grabbed some words to wonder to think just what if
If I could sing out with no attempts at sublime
Sing escape from wary fears of mine of the times
But just for moments small sake
Knowin’ this need be a shouted take
I would try to sing things that just needed be said
—
Rhymes dream dreaming in songs of what ifs
Break them out to maybe lesson the kids
Show them how we can all sing our song
Not hide our heads in sand hoping all is not wrong
No not go along with the dumb of the herd
No stand up say your piece and do your best to be heard
—
Some rhymes have magic as they certainly can
Be response to times help us feel not also ran
Strung together right they just might be a piece strong and together more than …
Well, that theme song popped into my head again but with the thought of a revisit and instead this time of an Orange Devil.
So, I reworked the lyrics.
I also unintentionally worked in the word “rue” and then thought of Val Kilmer and REAL GENIUS (absolute 80’s comedy gold)
“Rue the day? Who talks like that?”
No, that means nothing, it’s just funny, right Mitch?
So, a new version of this one then, for the orange instead. Oh, and Ron? You might want to better choose your battles especially when you aren’t able to differentiate horror from human.
Anyway, here is some fun not fun.
Despot Don (Mighty Mouse Trump Theme Song)
MAGA livestock flock to hear the sound
At the rallies where lies abound
“Here I come to save the day!!”
And root out vermin in an ode to Nazi way
.
Yes, I’ll save the bloodline from its plight
Of being muddied by those not white
Even expose leftist fascist thugs
While dimly missing such a statement’s rub
.
I’ll be following the blueprint of 20-25
To destroy democracy is what I’ll strive
Like mind, hive blind, right’s time, will be mine!!!
So, here in the Attic, posts will have, at the bottom, links to a couple of other posts if you have somehow managed to make your way all the way through the one you are currently visiting without toe curling a tall ledge and saying to yourself “Wow, that’s a long way down … but would make quite a display”
This one was there at the end of my most recent post, a one from April of 2021. A bit dated now … but not altogether
And also just too cool, if I do say so myself
Self: Indeed
/////////////////////////////////////////
April 24, 2021
Ya know I’ve found myself, over the last couple of years, to be prone to a parody tune or two, political stuff (minus the occasional things aboutcats peeing where they shouldn’t) the Orange Devil, going to hell in a handbasket, hypocrisy, authoritarian leanings, that sort of thing, obvious shit, things that for some reason I find necessary to point out because of being dumbfounded by that obviousness. Does anyone listen and should you see these things on your own accord without my poorly sung insistence? No and sure but not without disappointment.
I have though discovered this. I enjoy the fuck out of writing some new lyrics and the looking forward to singing whatever song is my latest project. Give me my little studio on a Friday night with personal obligations I don’t have, a pair of headphones, a knowing that my girls will survive if I’m a couple of hours late (though Mimi will remind of such when I do get home in that smokers sounding annoyed rasp of hers) and I’m all good. No one is ever going to read my straight right up rants, hell, I wouldn’t read them myself, but with a bit of a tune? Maybe.
I ran this one by my “Mikey likes it” or doesn’t like it friends earlier, a taste test if you Mikey will and I got thumbs up as opposed to another recent thing I sent them that didn’t even garner a late night cricket. Apparently they hate Neil Diamond. Can’t blame ’em I guess.
Anyway, something new here in the Attic. A take on the late 80’s classic “Crash” from the The Primitives.
Crush
Here we go, fuckin’ fast
Must pass laws we hope’ll la-ast
Cause we know, in blatant show-ow
We can’t win with a vote’s honest go
So Stop, stop the polls
Shut some doors maybe clear the rolls
Make it rough, so no close ca-alls
We wanna make sure of a doubts no go
So restrictions where there weren’t none
Enact new rules replace old ones
That worked just fine when it was we won
But when we didn’t there was clearly something wrong
.
Na na na na na na na na na
(we gotta crush the vote)
Na na na na na na na na na
(we gotta crush the hope)
.
Here they go, fuckin’ fast
Chauvin a martyr white bias cast
Say Maxine shut your mou-outh
Your words are a fire that’ll burn the town
But Trump words, were benign
Hugs and kisses it was just sublime
It was really nothing be concerned
Only five dead and the cap riot didn’t earn
What libs will have us learn
No that was just a patriots turn
But now the Tuckers and the pundits churn
Will have believe verdicts real concern was burn
Chauvin’s martyr turn
Excuse for justice served
.
Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the vote) Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the hope) Na na na na na na na na na (ignorance it is the show) Na na na na na na na na na (white nationals refuse the blow)
Na na na na na na na na na
(gonna crush the vote) Na na na na na na na na na (gonna crush the hope) Na na na na na na na na na (ignorance it is the show)
So I ran this one by my Mikey Six, “Hey, Mikey likes it!” or “Hey, Mikey, why are you puking on your shoe?”, a group of six friends who I often run things by before I post and who surely wonder how they can get on a “no call” Mikey Six list and their non committal response (other than Cindy, she’s a real trooper and always very kind to me in a head pat kinda way) was enough to tell me to “go ahead … post away … now about that “no call” list?”
Something with our new House speaker and other GOP zealots in mind.
To Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time”
God Time (Mike Johnson Time)
“Pray there”
We’re on our way we’re workin’ it (oooh yeah!)
To theocratic state hope
Eh!
That Democracies got a short life
There’s planned it’s soon now de-mi-eeze
Hoa hoa hoa hoa …
.
This place where we all live, is a Mike place
Only 6
Thousand years old
Now since crea – creation times
He believes the scribes
We got here riding an ark and with all those creatures great and small
Even dinosaurs took a ride to stories so tall
But not real stories
The heathens must sure have made it all up
To try confound the Lord’s words
.
But they won’t get any solace
They’ll get theirs we do promise
.
God Time
We’re on our way we’re workin’ it
Mike Time
Oooh yeah
God Time
To theocratic state yeah
God Time
Mike Time
Mike says there’s only one text
God time
To check and see his life lived
Of thoughts and world view
It’s all there for purview
.
But Mikes got his priorities straight and he lays them out on the line
Make sure that rich get their protection
Before others we do the same
When he writes new scrolls of how we should stand
He’ll seem forget how hard for them to enter
Kingdom of god
According to his guy
.
But their heaven will be a rich heaven
As they shell out the cover charge
.
God Time
We’re on our way we’re workin’ it
Mike time
Oooh yeah
God time
To theocratic state yeah
God time
.
God time
Democracies got a short life
Mike time
There’s planned it’s soon now dee-mi-eeze
(God time) Lord’s house’ll get bigger (Mike time) Church state separation (God time) that’ll get smaller (Mike time) but he’ll keeeeeep
(Mike time) Repub importance (God time) poor as second class (Mike time) lord surely he’ll understand
(God time) this is just an inter-pre-ta-tion of our big, big, big, big, big, bought and sold God gig
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heart felt, sometimes angry, sometimes funny again because, well, who don't like funny, thoughts on getting older and sometimes stuff that's just kinda shit. I pen and sing the occasional parody tune, sometimes I even get a little poetic. If you're joining me here I thank you, but just mind your head and feet and keep an eye out for my little Bella and Cricket The Blind as well as the memories of Mimi the Quirky, of Blink The Lil' Kit, Grayson the Mighty, Shoes the Big Orange, Shana-Girl, Benny Good Man Benny Brown, Merlin & Bob. Wouldn't want you step on them or anything ... 'cause then I might just have to throw you down the stairs ... damned humans.
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