Author: Stephen J Frankenberry

After Patrick the Cat and his Christmas tune I have another which brings the grand total of Christmas themed songs of mine to two. Now just 6 or 7 more and I can have a full album of shit that I can dismiss out of hand as I hate Christmas albums.

These three need a new adventure though …

Stevie: Seriously, we’re fuckin’ bored

Tommy: Yeah, what he said

Billy: I got the keys!

(from December of last year)

.

Thought to another Stevie & Tommy & Billy thing this weekend, them trying to redeem themselves by dropping off their ill-gotten robbery loot at a community center for the kids at Christmas, but of course in the middle of the night and with an unexpected hitch.

Their world

The Heist We let Billy Drive The Car

The Bar Twin Vision

—

We Let Billy Drive the Sleigh

Moved in in a flash

To drop off welcome cash

For the kids at the center

Christmas eve and then dash

—

Me and Tommy

Thought to turn

Ill-gotten gains

In-to kid holidays

—

Tommy had the back door

While I checked on the front

And Billy warmed the sleigh

Without the slightest reindeer grunt

Tommy gave the sign

And I moved then on his mark

He pulled out extra key

That he’d scored a while back

With tommy as a Rudolph

Me wearing Dentist props

We scooted in the back door

Latest score we were to drop

—

We moved careful

Of being caught fearful

But we knew we were safe

Billy’d checked night shakes

—

But then we heard a sound we knew that wasn’t right

It came out of the blue in this middle Christmas night

It came out with a growl like it had angry might

It wasn’t happy and we tried stay out of sight

—

Shit, where’d the dog come from Stevie?

I don’t know man

You said Billy scoped this place

—

A willy nilly dash that could have been fun

At another day and another time

But right now we worried for our lives

Tommy Juked I jived we even made some dives

And even some too cool movie slides

Tapes the cops were sure to watch to give ‘em a smile

—

How the hell did Billy not scope out a dog

Does it matter right now Tommy? He’s got my shoe!

Toss me the money

You’re worried about the money? He’s got my sock!

We still gotta leave it somewhere!! For the kids

Ahhh son of a bitch, catch

Damn, I think the beast grabbed it

Yeah and my other shoe!!

—

And then through back door came bright light

A bit of Christmas magic

—

Hey boys it’s just a me and I got the money here

Just gonna drop it under the kids Christmas tree

The good thing that we do

Our crime sprees now redeemed  

Got the sleigh out the back just waitin’ for a flee

And this guy is Duke if you haven’t met yet

He just loves a little scratch on the head

And don’t worry he won’t make y’all dead

—

Well, can I at least get my shoes back please … Duke?

Ahhh, c’mon, really? They’re all slobbery and stuff

One of the first things I did, parody song-wise years ago, was a take on R.E.M.’s “It’s The End Of The World” and the dangers of a Trump then and how we were screwed.

Then came a respite, a non-Russian influenced vote, a collective “shit, how far have we fallen? How could we have?” … a breath then to Joe …

Well, now we are back in the same screwed boat or at least the frightening possibility of such.

So back to R.E.M. then and another take, this time to “Don’t Go Back To Rockville” and worries of Democracy in a devil’s orange light.

Don’t Go Back To Trumpville

Looking at old hell a new time

Wonderin’ what we’ve done to be so cursed

In the possibility that

The Orange Devil could usher somethin’ worse

Only this time with an even darker promise

With vengeance in his blackened heart

.

He’ll persecute and prosecute

The order of which won’t matter when he’s done

Retribution will be his rally cry

To punish one and all  

And any who don’t comply

And offer fealty on bended knee

With bowed heads kissed rings even fresh lipstick

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste Democracy

.

At night he drinks himself to sleep

Of despot dreams jack booting in his head

He envies Xi and surely Vlad

Even Benito and now new Nazi Klan

Who find in him their great leader to follow

With violence waiting on a call

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste our future years

.

Some though feel that there’s no need to worry

Head in sand they see no real ur-gency

But anyone who’s not head under ground knows the danger that is found

In another orange presidency

It’s not the way to protect our liberty

And our too weak now Democracy

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste our future years

.

Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
Don’t go back to Trumpville
And waste Democracy

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.

mmm … mmm

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” …

Love ya Ma

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 lack of promise.

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 just with different players and maybe more at stake. Ya, know like our Democracy and such.

But, anyway, that handy all in one spot, spot. You’re welcome.

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #1: “What’s the Password?”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #2: “Bang the Gravel!”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #3: “While the Cat’s Away”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #4: “Not Action Figures”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #5: “Balloons and Doorbells”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #6: “Who the Hell is Alfred?”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #7: “Is It Just A Tan?”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #8: “Damn Swedes”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #9: “Mexican Sandwiches”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #10: “Alarms and a Post Gone Joyously Off The Rails”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #11: “The Question of a Fruit Basket, the Right Fiber and a Movement”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #12: “Re-gifting a Fruit Basket and the Closing of the Alice Door”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #13: “Don’t Call Him Sal”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #14: “Red, White and Not Blue Legos”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #15: “New Oz Guards, Cossack Hats, Pointy Sticks … Oh, and Dramatic Frothing Spittle”

The Trump Treehouse of Tall Stories, Treason & Tyranny – Ep #16: “The Appointment”

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

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 …

A So Then Sunday

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 about cats 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)

Mmmm hmmm

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