L'Etat, Ce N'est Pas Vous

There seems to have been a little ruckus over what rhetoric can be used against the current administration. Much has been made over the use of the term "regime," which the Left used to pejorative effect during the George W. Bush Presidency. As I recall from high school civics, an administration operates within a regime. Theoretically, we have had the same regime since 1789, but those who have administered the regime have changed periodically throughout the years. Only if the U.S. Constitution were abandoned would we have grounds for accurately saying that the regime has changed.

But, of course, accuracy has little to do with political journalism any more, and, as if to prove this point, Joe Klein accused opposition politicians and talk show hosts of sedition against the United States. The parody department could not pass up such an opportunity, and has produced the following, sung to the tune of "Tradition" from Fiddler on the Roof.



Tradition
by Dminor (apologies to Jerry Bock, Sheldon Harnick, and Joseph Stein)


[JOE KLEIN AND JOHN HEILEMANN]
Sedition, Sedition! Sedition!
Sedition, Sedition! Sedition!

[GLEN BECK]

When is it right to criticize Obama
Go against his wishes, rise up in dissent?
And who has the right to speak against the house
and senate to protect our home?

The Public, the Public! Sedition?
The Public, the Public! Sedition?

[RUSH LIMBAUGH]

Who must raise a flag to make an objection,
a rejection, some dissention?
Who must sound alarm when trust has been betrayed
The Constitution's tenets are ignored?

Citizens, Citizens! Sedition?
Citizens, Citizens! Sedition?

[SEAN HANNITY]
Since way before the Civil War we've always had dissent.
But now they've picked a leader who cannot be opposed.

[SARAH PALIN]
And does the Party teach to follow and obey,
Forgetting that to dissent is our tradition's way?

Politics, Politics! Sedition?
Politics, Politics! Sedition?

Timing is Everything

Often the Protestant and secular community don't understand why Catholics leave their Christmas decorations up so long. If they are so bold as to ask, they will find that Christmas, instead of being a single day, is a season in the Catholic calendar. So, in the spirit of this explanation and to mark the official end to the Christmas season, the parody department has reached back to the 60's and used a Diana Ross and the Supremes tune for inspiration.


Christmas Ends with Epiphany
(to the tune of "I Hear a Symphony," apologies to Brian Holland, Lamont Dozier, Edward Holland, Jr., and Charles Wesley)
by Dminor

We waited all December,
And every day I remembered
That the seasons, in order:
First is Advent, then comes Christmas.

Our Christmas decor
Lasts 'till Epiphany;
A twelve-day jubilee,
Not about Santa;
Santa isn't it.

Oh Christmas time, ends on Epiphany;
Ooh twelve days for child divine;
Yes, we should take the time,
'till we leave it all behind.

The rest of the world
wants to just move on.

Our Christmas decor
Lasts 'till Epiphany.
Play and sing joyfully
Until January 6th, now baby.

Holy Baby;
He brings much peace and joy;
He's Mary's Baby boy.
Christmas goes on and on and on.

The Holy Baby,
Savior that came to earth,
To give us second birth,
And he's the one we call Emmanuel.

Our Christmas decor
Lasts 'till Epiphany.
After three kings appear,
We can make final Christmas cheer and clean up.

Maybe, Maybe,
If our spirits are high
Christmas will live in us
Long after the parties and the fuss.

Now baby, baby,
Holidays have to end;
Epiphany's the end.
Ooh that's when it ends, baby, baby.
Christmas, Christmas
Ends on Epiphany;
A twelve-day jubilee.

Out of the Blue and Into the Black, part 2

The Parody department presents he audio version of "Enter Santaman:"

Out of the Blue and Into the Black, or Back in Black Friday

Black Friday, the Friday after Thanksgiving, has become a somewhat troubling American tradition, making an unofficial start to a secular Advent of consumerism. We usually do as little shopping on "Black Friday" as possible, but since Hon Daughter No. 1 needed a ride to her job at a retail establishment, we decided to go in and look around.

We were browsing a display of recorded Christmas Music, when what to my wondering eyes should appear: A Billy Idol Christmas Album, Billy Idol, Happy Holidays! He is one of the last people I would expect to be making a Christmas record.

On the way home, a local classic rock station serenaded us with a traditional-sounding rendition of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
"Hmm, that sounds like Chrissy Hynde [of the Pretenders]." I guess parenthood can mellow anyone out.

So that got us wondering who else would we not expect to find in the Christmas Music business: Metallica came to mind. What would they sing?


Enter Santaman (to the tune of Enter Sandman)
by DMinor (apologies to Kirk Hammett, James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Father Josef Mohr, Johnny Marks, Mel Tormé, Bob Wells and Clement C. Moore)

Full of joy, full of fun
for daughter and son,
tho' he sees everyone.

Up on his shelves, made by elves
(who keep to themselves)
toys for Santa's big run.

Sees the children hoping
Christmas will turn out right.

Beard of White;
Works by night;
Bag in hand,
His sleigh flies off across the land.

Rudolf's nose, a red light;
Reindeer-powered flight --
Al Gore says it's all right.

Chestnuts roast on a fire;
Hymns sung by a choir;
All is calm, all is bright, yeah

Sleep my children, hoping
Christmas will turn out right.

Silent Night,
Holy Night,
Flight is planned;
His sleigh flies off across the land.

(spoken)
'Twas the night before Christmas
('Twas the night before Christmas)
And all through the house
(And all through the house)
Not a creature was stirring
(Not a creature was stirring)
Not even a mouse
(Not even a mouse)

Hush little baby don't say a word
And you might get a toy Big Bird;
Transformer toys like in Japan
From a sooty red-dressed man.

Beard of White,
Works by night,
Bag in hand. . . .

Silent Night,
Holy Night;
Flight is planned,
His sleigh flies off across the land.

Ho! Ho! Ho!

His sleigh flies off across the land.
Bag in hand
His sleigh flies off across the land.
Flight is planned. . .

His sleigh flies off across the land.
His sleigh flies off across the land.
His sleigh flies off across the land.


Perhaps they could host a Holiday special with AC/DC (I heard Hell's Bells on Christmas Day), Judas Priest (Giving After Midnight ), and Sleigher.

Update: A Special Guest could be Twisted Sister, with their rendition of O Come All Ye Faithful. (Last entry courtesy of Foxfier. Many thanks!

Counting for Diddley

Anyone who has had small children while living in Germany knows about a treat that delights children of that nation, the Kinder-Überraschung (literally Children-Surprise, but known to most Americans as the Kinder Egg). A Kinder-Überraschung is a hollow chocolate egg containing a small plastic toy which usually requires some assembly. These eggs generally cannot be found in the U.S. due to laws about hiding small, choking-size inedible objects in edible things, especially if those edible things are meant for children.

Recently, the U.S. Congress has taken a page from the European candy-makers. Hidden within a large Defense Appropriation bill was a rather unpalatable expansion of hate-crimes legislation. I disagree with making violent crime against one group different than that occurring against another group. Laws against violence should be stringent and vigorously enforced, regardless of the gender or orientation of the victim. To do otherwise would divide Americans into first and second class citizens before the law.

Rather than let my frustrations build over the matter, I engaged the parody department to help me let off steam. The results are here for your enjoyment.

Hate Crime (to the Tune of "Willie and the Hand Jive")
by Dminor. Apologies to Johnny Otis, as well as Eric Clapton, George Thorogood and a million anonymous bar bands.


I know a cat named Way-out Willie,
But when he goes out at night he's named Rocking Lily.
Yeah Congress says that it is true;
A crime against him now counts as two.

From Pelosi to Senator Reid
"A hate crimes law is what we need!
It won't pass standing on its own,
So a Defense bill will be its home."

Hate Crime, Hate Crime, Hate Crime
I don't rate a hate crime.

A doctor, a lawyer and an Indian Chief,
They don't rate that kind of relief.
Unless they are of a certain lifestyle
They won't count as much at trial.

Hate Crime, Hate Crime, Hate Crime
I don't rate a hate crime

Violent crime is evil, against the law.
And no one should fall victim, that goes for all!
Well, defense appropriation now has a twist;
You're second class or you're on a list.

Hate Crime, Hate Crime, Hate Crime
I don't rate a hate crime

Inevitable Destiny

Recently, an individual from a town down the road ran into a little trouble with the law for allegedly stalking pop/country singer Miley Cyrus. Seemingly in revenge, pop radio stations in the area have been playing Miley's latest in high rotation. I cannot escape from the song. I'm sure that even King George II would have kept his seat had he been played the Hallelujah Chorus repeatedly ad nauseum. So, in hopes of exorcising an ear worm, and having a little fun, the Parody department offers its take on Miley Cyrus' "Party in the U.S.A."

That Miley Song
to the tune of Party in the U.S.A.
by DMinor and CMinor (apologies to Lucasz Gottwald, Claude Kelly, Jessica Cornish and Miley Cyrus)

I'm on the job, got a lot to do
But the radio's my friend
Let the DJ spin his hits for me
Am I gonna like them?

I didn't mind hearing it for the first time
It wasn't bad on the second and third time
This is all so crazy
Have all the DJ's got lazy?

And now I hear it
And I'm feelin' like I'll get sick
Too much airplay
And exposure
'Cause when a buddy turned on the radio

And that Miley song was on
And that Miley song was on
And that Miley song was on

So I throw my hands up
They're playin' that song
I'm screaming "just go away!"
Banging my head -- oh yeah
Plugging my ears -- oh yeah
I'm gonna give up
Why didn't they know
That it ruined ol' Billy Ray
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay

Get to my house - it's after work
And the kids have all come home from school
My daughter says she's got to have her station--
She says mine's not cool
Oh well, a little pop can't hurt me
It's definitely not old AT-Forty
'Cause all I want are Dick and Casey
These modern DJ's drive me crazy

But now I hear it
And I'm feelin' like I'll get sick
Too much airplay
And exposure
Only fifteen minutes from the last time

That the Miley song was on
That the Miley song was on
That the Miley song was on

So I throw my hands up
They're playin' that song
I'm screaming "just go away!"
Tearing my hair -- Oh yeah!
Pounding the ground -- Oh yeah!
I'm gonna give up
Why didn't they know
That it ruined ol' Billy Ray
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay

What is wrong with Beyoncé?
Nickleback is just all right.
Really want some Led Zepplin
But there's that song again-- no end in sight!

So I throw my hands up
They're playin' that song
I'm screaming "just go away!"
Banging my head -- oh yeah
Plugging my ears -- oh yeah
I'm gonna give up
Why didn't they know
That it ruined ol' Billy Ray
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay

So I throw my hands up
They're playin' that song
I'm screaming "just go away!"
Tearing my hair -- Oh yeah!
Pounding the ground -- Oh yeah!
I'm gonna give up
Why didn't they know
That it ruined ol' Billy Ray
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay
Yeah
She's suffering from overplay

[maniacal laughter]

Early Fitting for Wings

The Parody Department was inspired by the Veterans' Administration bringing back into circulation a pamphlet titled Your life Your Choices, Authored by Robert Pearlman, MD MPH; Helene Starks, MPH; Kevin Cain, PhD; William Cole, PhD; David Rosengren, PhD; and Donald Patrick, PhD MSPH.

With the government passing out pamphlets like this, it is no wonder the phrase "death panel" was used in reference to Obamacare.

Want You to Die (to the tune of Live and Let Die)
by DMinor, with apologies to Sir Paul McCartney and Linda McCartney

When you were young, paid your tax, had a stylish look,
We used to say that you could live.
(You know we did, you know we did, you know we did)
But since your ever wors'ning health began to give in,
We don't want you to try;
We want you to die
Want you to die
Want you to die
Want you to die

What does it matter to us?
Can't hold down a job, so you
aren't worth the treatment bill.
So write D N R on your living will.

When you were young, paid your tax, had a stylish look
We used to say that you could live.
(you know we did, you know we did, you know we did)
But since your ever wors'ning health began to give in,
we don't want you to try;
We want you to die.


Hat Tip: The American Catholic.

Left Side Story

"Might she persuade Kennedy to come out differently than what Souter could persuade him to do?" Erwin Chemerinsky, dean of the new law school at the University of California at Irvine, said before the hearings. "Can Sotomayor by virtue of her life experiences move Kennedy to join the more liberal bloc more often?"
AP wire, July 18, 2009, on Fox News

A good question to be sure, though I was kind of hoping the more Constitutionally-inclined heads on the court might be good influences on (presumed) Justice Sotomayor. Not that I would want the job of oddsmaker for either possibility.

Anyway, the suggestion moved D to song, and I figured the first Monday in October of '09 might be a good time for a musical interlude. Thus the following. Justice Kennedy doesn't ordinarily seem a flashy type, so if he's going to be whisked off leftwards, he might as well make a good show of it.

Imagine a ballet of law clerks fading to black in the background as Tony, I mean Justice Kennedy, in a pensive mood, steps out into sunset on the Supreme Court portico.

Sonia
By CMinor with just a leetle inspiration from DMinor.

Sung to the tune of Maria from West Side Story.
Apologies to Leonard Bernstein, Stephen Sondheim, Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise, Richard Beymer (even though he didn't really sing it,) and Jimmy Bryant (who actually did.) Heck, throw in the original Broadway cast and the movie cast (right down to key grip and best boy) as well. I know when I've crossed the Musical Blasphemy line.


At decision time I've been known to swing
(Chorus: O Sonia! O Sonia! O Sonia! O Sonia!)
Between activist left and strict constructionist right wing.
(Chor: O Sonia, etc.)

O Sonia!
I just met the justice named Sonia--
And serving the blind dame
Will never be the same
For me.

O Sonia!
I spoke but a moment with Sonia;
She's so jurisprudent
Her devoted student
I'll be.

Ah, Sonia!
Your rich diverse wisdom amazes:
Of your CV I can but sing praises!

O Sonia!
I'll never stop drifting
O Sonia! So-ni-a,
O Sonia! So-ni-a,
O Sonia!
So-ni-a (be sure to drag this one out good), O Sonia!

For judgement such as hers I'm yearning,
So leftwards I'll be evermore turning.
O Sonia!
I'll never stop learning
From Sonia!
Her judicial temperament makes me sing--
So-ni-a!

Would Che be the Designated Hitter?

From the Parody Department -- reaching back to a poem published in 1910, "Baseball's Sad Lexicon," for inspiration to comment on current events.

"Zelaya's Sad Company?"
by DMinor (apologies to Franklin Pierce Adams)

America's saddest of possible names:
"Castro, Morales, Chavez."
Trio of tyrants put freedom to flames,
Castro, Morales, Chavez.
Ruthlessly putting down any dissent,
Making a lackey of our President--
Lords that would never have terms that are spent:
"Castro, Morales, Chavez."

The Party is Wearing Thin

The Parody Department is back in the saddle, this time looking to the 1970s band Thin Lizzy for its inspiration. For your amusement, a little party song:

Obama's on the Town
by DMinor
(To the tune of "The Boys Are Back in Town");
apologies to Phil Lynott and Thin Lizzy

Guess who just flew in today
On Airforce one - shut down the runway?
The U.S. Prez and first Lady -
Oh man, the traffic will be so crazy.

They were planning a night on the town;
DC scene, well it's got them down.
Couldn't just have gone to Georgetown -
New York groove is just so crazy.

The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)
I said
The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)

You know it's better in a tax-paid jet.
Never fear: that old "cap and trade" hasn't been passed yet.
Man, when I say how much it cost, you'll have a fit -
Money is no object.

He's got time and a landing place,
And an Air Force crew and Secret Service.
Man, a limo drives him to the place.
If someone brings up the cost, forget it.

The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)
I said
The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)

Fly the world around
Guess who's on the town
You'll spread the word around

In Paris they'll be dressed to kill;
Taxpayers will foot the bill.
The drink will flow -- Michelle, don't spill!
And if the press corps should complain, better not let them.

Well, Fox News and the talkshows blasting them for spending wrongs.
His speech from the teleprompter's a little long.
Won't be long 'til Twenty-ten,
Better enjoy while he still can.

The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)
Fly the world around
The Prez is on the town
(Obama's on the town)

Obama's on the town again
The budget is in free-fall
Obama's on the town again

Them There 'Ayes'

I thought I'd try some variations on I Only Have Eyes For You. Unfortunately, as the song is irregular in meter and rhyme scheme and only about eleven lines long (if you don't count the refrain) it doesn't lend itself well to parody. I'm contemplating parodying only medieval ballads or Gilbert and Sullivan arias henceforth.

Following is the result of my labors. The theme was suggested by D, who can be relied upon to always go for the cheap pun. I think it works; you have to imagine it being sung by Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi [subject of a prior musical tribute by D] to the Prez.

'Ayes' For You
To be sung, with profuse apologies to Harry Warren and Al Dubin (also Peggy Lee, The Flamingos, The Lettermen, and the gazillion other artists who have covered the original,) to the tune of I Only Have Eyes For You

My House must be a rubber-stamp House,
Delivering bills straight to you--
Sha bop sha bop

We have majority;
If we strongarm the weak GOP
We'll only have 'ayes' for you.

But they're holding out
And some Blue Dogs are starting to pout--
Will we have the 'ayes' for you?

I don't know if we can still hold 'em
If their voters raise the hue--

To distract we can try,
Letting trillions of dollars go by
And setting up Stimulus II--
But will we have 'ayes' for you?

Collapse-o

Economic times being what they are, the minor premise continues to console itself with an overactive parody department. Fortuntately, the tune for this one should be familiar to those who know the a cappella group Rockapella.

In this installment, the minor premise parody department addresses a phenomenon that crawls from the swamp of toxic assets, unnaturally animated by what some would call a distant, sinister force, feeding on financial flesh but yielding very little. It's. . . .

A Zombie Bank
by Dminor
(to the tune of Jumbie Jamberee, better known as Zombie Jamboree; apologies to Winston O'Conner, also known as Lord Intruder)

It was a zombie bank, you see
And a moribund fiduciary.
It was a zombie bank, you see
Caught in contracting economy.

You know it was caught mortgage bond buyin'
when the housing market started dyin'.
Since the debtors were in default
it ended up with an empty vault.
Its bottom line was . . .

In the red, fool! My knees are jelly!
Oh it don't have a dime 'cause it's tapped out already.
In the red; prospects are smelly:
It's a zombie bank, you see.

Real estate market, it wouldn't behave
So my bank's assets went to the grave.
The bank's left holding, when it's all done
A foreclosed house built in nineteen forty-one.

You know the president vowed to make his plan
The undisputed supreme law of the land.
One taxpayer, he had this to say:
"We will be paying still on our judgement day."
Sha! The bottom line is . . .

In the red, mon! My knees are jelly!
The bank don't have a dime 'cause it's tapped out already.
In the red; prospects are smelly:
It's a zombie bank, you see.

In the red, everyone we sing!
In the red, the prospects are smelly.
In the red - one, two, three, four

Hey! It's a zombie bank you see.
Someone must call out the FDIC!
Can't make a loan -- zombie bank, you see.
Whoa, whoa, yeah, yeah.

There are zombie stock brokers making bad trades
And Bernie Madoff doing the Ponzi-gate
The effects are felt from Tokyo to Rome,
Because we were buying too much home.

Huh? What'd we do? We're
In the red, We lost the mêlée.
We can't bum a dime -- the bank's tapped out already.
In the red, nothing is selling;
It's a zombie bank, you see.

Its bottom line was . . .
In the red, fool! My knees are jelly!
Oh it don't have a dime 'cause it's tapped out already.
In the red; prospects are smelly:
It's a zombie bank, you see.

It's in limbo!
In the red, mon! My knees are jelly!
The bank don't have a dime 'cause it's tapped out already.
In the red; prospects are smelly:
It's a zombie bank, you see.
Ha Ha Ha Hah!

A Travis-ty We Can Ill Af-Ford, part II

Back in September the parody department produced a ditty on the financial meltdown. The music department, being a little slow, has only now produced the video. Enjoy

Sixteen Funds
by DMinor
(Apologies to Merle Travis, or perhaps to George S. Davis)



Some people say a man must own his own house
With two-odd kids and a trophy wife spouse --
House and wife and cars and yard
A paycheck a-week and a credit card.

You buy sixteen funds, what do you get?
Another man's mortgage and second-hand debt.
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go;
My IRA plan's down a really big hole.

I awoke one mornin' and the radio said,
The darn banking system had a-ended up dead.
I watched my sixteen funds of financial gold
Turn to paper junk: "Well, a-bless my soul!"

You buy sixteen funds, what do you get?
Another man's mortgage and second-hand debt.
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go;
My IRA plan's down a really big hole.

I awoke one mornin', in a financial pain --
Fightin' and trouble without any gain.
Rhetoric in the campaign by an Obama hack
Cain't make-a flat-broke banker give my money back.

You buy sixteen funds, what do you get?
Another man's mortgage and second-hand debt.
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go;
My IRA plan's down a really big hole.

All you CEOs, better step aside:
No golden parachute, if you have some pride.
Your sub-prime loans have emptied the till--
If the right wing don't a-get you
Then the left sure will!

You buy sixteen funds, what do you get?
Another man's mortgage and derivative debt.
Saint Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go;
My IRA plan's down a really big hole.

Poetic Injustice

Even though President Obama picked Elizabeth Alexander to write his inaugural poem instead of me, I wrote one anyway. Actually, I sort of borrowed some, substituted some words and smashed them together into one poem.

Dedication Poem
by Dminor


Whose fete this is I think I know.
His house is now in DC, so
He will not see me blogging here,
Wondering how his term will go.⁽¹⁾

I thought that I would never see
A President sworn in like thee:

Gala whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the treas'ry's flowing breast;

Inaugural both night and day,
With Rick Warren on hand to pray;

A pick that draws an evil stare
From LGBT people there.⁽²⁾

The problem is all inside your head
it says to me
Now how do you square it with
proportionality
I understand you need some marching
bands to see
Must there be 90 bands
before you govern?⁽³⁾

How will you change things? Let me count the ways.
You'll change the size of government and when
The right complains, you'll check the votes again
For you have majorities well in place.⁽⁴⁾

"Forward, the bailout plan!"
Was there a dismay'd man?
Not tho' taxpayer knew
Someone had blunder'd:
Theirs not to get behind,
Theirs not to borrow blind,
Their kids the bill assigned:
Into the Stimulus Plan
Go many billions.⁽⁵⁾

With spending, spending everywhere
"That will help, I think."
Spending, spending everywhere
But GDP still shrinks⁽⁶⁾

It's small business this, middle class that, upper class go away;
But it's "thank you, Joe the Plumber," when there is tax to pay.⁽⁷⁾

Our future's calling, dark and deep,
And you made promises to keep,
The country's fate: to laugh or weep?
The country's fate: to laugh or weep?⁽⁸⁾

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good luck, bub.⁽⁹⁾


We'll all need it. Our success depends on you.


If you were wondering what poems I stole from borrowed, they are listed below (apologies to all authors):

(1) "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," by Robert Frost
(2) "Trees," by Joyce Kilmer
(3) "Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover," by Paul Simon
(4) "Sonnet 43," by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(5) "Charge of the Light Brigade," by Alfred, Lord Tennyson
(6) "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner," by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(7) "Tommy," by Rudyard Kipling
(8) "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening," by Robert Frost (again)
(9) "Inaugural Poem," by Maya Angelou

Where Are They Hidin' Biden?

As we are now one week out from the inauguration I thought I'd take a break from chronicling ironies and do something suitable for that event instead. We haven't written any songs lately, and I'd been mentioning to D that we really were overdue. We bounced around a few ideas that fizzled. (We weren't sure that titling an oratorio The Obamessiah wasn't outright blasphemy and decided we'd better not chance it. Besides, we suspect that Handel is above our pay grade.) Over the weekend, the muse struck (I think she nailed me with a dobro) and I came up with the ditty below.

Even before Election day, the VP-elect seemed an afterthought. Some supporters of the president-elect were a bit fuzzy about who exactly occupied that second slot. My conspiracy theorist side wondered privately about the psychological implications of those DNC campaign signs--the dark blue ones with "Obama" in glaring white and "Biden" fading away in a lighter shade of blue. I was extremely amused one day when I passed one in which (not sure if it was a trick of the light or an especially dark print run) the VP's name was barely visible at other than ten feet dead ahead.

Since the election, the old boy seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. I noticed a news story recently mentioning his return from Afghanistan (so that's where they stashed him!) but other than that he's of remarkably little interest to anybody who anchors TV news, buys ink by the barrel, worked on his campaign, voted for him... I have to wonder if they remember who he is...

WHAT'S HIS NAME?

Sung to the tune of Lynyrd Skynyrd's What's Your Name?, with apologies to Gary Rossington and the memory of Ronnie Van Zant.

Well, it's 'Nauguration Day, Washington, D.C.
Six thousand folks in town
For every Port-A-Potty*-- oooh whee!
Barack Obama's sworn in and he's standin' tall--
But who's the old guy with him?
I can't remember him at all.

What's his name? The VP--
What's his name?
Can't keep him straight--in my mind;
Still, it's nice he came.

Back at the hotel
Ballroom, they got such strife:
It seems the Veep showed up to
Celebrate and dance with the wife-- (all night!)
Well, the police said he'd need ID or he'd have to go--
I guess the Big Night Out's a
Krispy Kreme and cup of Joe.

What's his name? The VP--
What's his name?
Came from which state?--I dunno--
Well, it's all the same...

Nine o' clock the next day
He's under the Dome
'Til the Pro Tem comes from the Chamber
To send him off home-- (don'tcha roam!)
Off he goes to the White House instead:
"Barack! He needs my help!"
And from inside the Oval Office
Comes the frantic yelp:

"What was his name? My VP--
What's his name?
Shootin' you straight--can't recall--
Tell me who's to blame?
What's his name? My VP--
What's his name?
Nobody seems to know--
But it's nice he came."


*See DUmmiefunnies for statistics.

Earlier parodies here.