Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, 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 and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. 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 Raspberry (Razzy), 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.
Day 9 of a Trump parody tune a day until the election (I started last Sunday the 18th).
A most bestest of friend of mine (yeh, I said most bestest … what of it?) who I sent a rough draft of this, texted me to complain of an ear worm. Apologies I said, but, selfishly, I’m all good with complaints of an ear worm. I’ll take that as a compliment to some of my endeavor’s annoying stick-in-the-headedness.
Though I’ve posted my collection of Beatles/Trump tunes from the last year or so, The Orange Album, it seems that wasn’t the last of Beatles pieces.
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
Na-na-na-na-na
Just call me king-na-na
You can kiss my ring na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Loyalties the thing na-na
Better never sing na-na
I’ll take your everything na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na
(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”
(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.
(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 …
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
Hi and welcome to the Attic, I'm Frankenberry of said Blog Title and I write of just my everyday here, sometimes funny, sometimes heartfelt, 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 and other songs, sometimes I even get a little bit poetic or short story-etic or something like that. 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 Raspberry (Razzy), 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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