Tag Archives: tea party

Gershwin Teaches Me to Blog

11 Nov

Cyberquill says that I can’t expect people to read every word I write.

Even if I write very few, I guess.

He tells me that on-line readers pay attention to the first few sentences, and then they skim the rest of the post.

OK, then.

I’ve written you a post
A beautiful routine.
(I hope you like it.)

My technique can’t be wrong
I learned it from the screen.
(I hope you like it.)

I studied all the themes that all the bloggers ply;
Then just for you I give this text a try:

Blah, blah, blah, can’t stand,
Blah, blah, blah at all.
Blah, blah, blah, blah Rand,
Blan, blah, blah, blah Paul.

Tra la la la,
Tra la la la la
Sarah’s here to stay:
Tra la la la,
Tra la la la la,
Cure you of ‘the gay’.

Blah, blah, blah Glenn Beck,
Blah, blah, blah blah Bill:
Blah, blah, blah, blah dreck
Blah, blah, baby drill.

Tra la la la,
Tra la la la la
Tea Party blues,
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
All on Fox News.

My own (garage band) version soon to come.

The Wheel’s Still in Spin

8 Nov

Last Tuesday night, the times were a changin’.

Still, it felt perverse, even a little cruel, for my iPod to shuffle to Bob Dylan as the election results came in.

There is a battle outside.
And it is ragin’.

What does it matter that I don’t like what’s shaking my windows
and rattling my walls?

I have to admit that if the Tea Party had a mind to break into Bob Dylan, it might have found a legitimate anthem (and, in the same breath, seriously tweaked liberal sensibilities) by joining hands around the campfire, kicking off Birkenstocks, and calling to its supporters to

come gather round people, wherever you roam.

I don’t think that happened. But, thematically, it fit.

Actually, I wish the Tea Party would co-opt Bob Dylan to commemorate their success in the mid-term elections.

There’s more to Dylan’s song than a message of social and political inevitability:

Bob Dylan found inspiration for his music in the collaborative work of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill, especially The Threepenny Opera, or the Beggar’s Opera.

That’s the musical about what to expect from the abandoned, the destitute.  

When I think about cuts to unemployment benefits, food stamps or medical care, I always remember the second act finale of Threepenny:

You gentlemen who think you have a mission
To purge us of the seven deadly sins
Should first sort out the basic food position,
Then start your preaching: That’s where it begins.

So first make sure that those who now are starving
Get proper helpings when we all start carving.

I hope that our newly-elected politicians will keep that in mind for the next two years.

After that, who knows?

For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin’.

A Mad Tea Party

16 Sep

The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: “No room! No room!” they cried out when they saw Alice coming.

“There’s PLENTY of room!” said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

“You little girls come here for three reasons,” said the Mad Hatter, “One, you’re terrorists; two, you’re escaping the law; or three, you’re hungry (because) you can’t make a living in your own dirtbag country.”

“You should learn not to make personal remarks,” Alice said with some severity; “it’s very rude.”

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he SAID was, “Why is a Muslim like a terrorist?”

“Come, we shall have some fun now!” thought Alice. “I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.–I believe I can guess that,” she added aloud.

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?” said the March Hare.

“Exactly so,” said Alice.

“Then you should say what you mean,” the March Hare went on.

“I do,”Alice hastily replied; “at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same thing a bit!” said the Hatter. “You might just as well say that saying there are headless bodies in the desert is the same as finding headless bodies in the desert!’

“You might just as well say,” added the March Hare, “that looking out your window at Russia is the same as having foreign policy experience!”

“You might just as well say,” added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in her sleep, “that being abstinent with other people, is the same as being abstinent alone.”

Alice felt dreadfully puzzled. The Dormouse’s remark seemed to have no sort of meaning in it, and yet it was certainly English. “I don’t quite understand you,” she said, as politely as she could.

“Tell us a story,” said the Hatter to the Dormouse.

“Once upon a time there were three little sisters,” the Dormouse began in a great hurry; “and their names were Elsie, Lacie, and Tillie; and they lived at the bottom of a well–”

“What did they live on?” asked Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.

“They lived on treacle,” said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.

“They couldn’t have done that, you know,” Alice gently remarked; “they’d have been ill.”

“Okay, then they lived on catsup,” added the Dormouse testily, “It’s a vegetable.”

“They’d still be quite ill,” snapped Alice.

“So they were,” said the Dormouse; “VERY ill.”

Alice wanted to ask whether they managed to see a doctor, but it seemed like a touchy question.

Then she tried to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way of living would be like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: “But why did they live at the bottom of a well? Why didn’t they live in a proper house?”

“That’s not my job.  Anyway, there’s a plan for everybody,” said the Dormouse, falling asleep in an instant.

“The Dormouse is asleep again,” said the Hatter.

“What is a Dormouse, anyway?” asked Alice.

“It’s a mouse with a human brain.” Said the March Hare.

Alice looked confused: “I don’t think–”

“Then you shouldn’t talk,” said the Hatter.

This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear: she got up in great disgust, and walked off.

“At any rate I’ll never go THERE again!” said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. “It’s the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!”