Get back

Oh Julia..now you KNOW this one's inspired special lyrics: 
(From your earlier video about "Voting Blue" and "Not Going Back" that I seemed to have lost) m  

(Sung to the Chorus and Verse of "Get Back" by the Beatles")

BooBoo is a twit who aims to kill our nation...
and he WILL..in NO time flat!
BooBoo's spreading shit 'bout every brown-skinned Haitian
(No..they will not eat...your cat!!)

So get lost! Get lost!
Get lost 'cause we're not going back!
Get lost! Get lost!
Are his supporters smokin' crack???!!

BooBoo is a con who couldn't control Corona..
Millions died..a terrible truth..
Let's wake up those folks in Tuscon, Arizona..
send 'em to the voting booth..

Go back?? Go back??!!!
Oh no siree..not going back!
Go back? Go back??!!
I guarantee.that won't be me!!

BooBoo is behind each sick transgender rumor..
boasts of his enormous crowd..
BooBoo gets his news from loony Laura Loomer..
Bet he does those Proud boys proud!

Get lost! Get lost!
Before my hearty lunch..gets tossed!
Farewell..you creep..
(and take to hell your sicko Veep!)

Voter MUST wake up in Pennsy and Wisconsin
Must be "Charles Bronson-tough"
Voters in Nevada??
C'mon folks..you gotta..
vote Blue..'cause you had enough..

He'll preach: "Drink bleach!"
He'll pay to hush up stars of porn..
denies! Yells.."Lies!!"
(Wish his campaign was never born)


Girls in Carolina?
Cover your vagina!
Georgians too! This ain't no joke!
Michiganders listen: See that ass he's kissin'?
It's not shameful to..be "woke"

So vote Blue! Yeah..YOU!
It's something that we all must do!!
So we'll..survive..
remember... this November Five!

Get lost, BooBoo!

Then we can rest

Debate Debacle 

With apologies to Rodgers and Hammerstein, Shirley Jones and Gordon MacRae, and (especially) Randy Rainbow, let me date myself by admitting that I not only remember the  well known songs from “Oklahoma!” , I also remember the obscure ones, like “Surrey with the Fringe on Top” which inspired this:

( consult Alexa if you need a melody reminder)

Verse:

We watched Tuesday night …

and shook our heads..

Jim said, “ he’s insane!…or off his meds!”

I said, “did he really just say THAT?” 

( of course, yes!)

Jim said.. “ yep! Go hide your dog and cat!”

 

Chorus:

Geese and cats and ducks better scurry 

better give two f&cks.. better hurry!

There’s this nut job causing this worry

He’s unhinged.. won’t stop 

He’s a mad man spreading this rumor

It’s clear.. he has no sense of humor

He’s malignant.. just like a tumor

That’s about.. to pop!

Bridge

His wheels are spinnin’! 

All  his gaskets are blown

Let’s hope that people remember 

It’s all about winning and his orange skin tone

So let us all win this November!

Chorus:

He’s uncouth.. this clown lacks refinement 

Scares folks... lies ‘bout gender re-as-sign-ment

May his future be in confinement

This revolting …lump!!

DON’t you fret it .. DON’t regret it..

DON’t  vote DON-ald Trump!!

……………………………………………………………………..

Part Two

Verse:

He is terri-fied of smart  Black girls 

Those with brains and Chucks and shiny pearls

She has more than “ concepts” of idea .. 

(of course, yes!)

Her mouth spouts the facts: 

His?? …Diarrhea!

Chorus:

He has terrified our great nation 

MAGA folks avoid every Haitian 

He has not one plan for inflation

He’s a pitied.. flop 

He will falsely claim , “rigged election!”

He’ll deny he caused the insurrection

He’ll deny his Putin connection 

Calls it “Photoshopped!”

Bridge:

He makes word salads and he screws porn gals 

Been twice impeached.. wears makeup 

I write this ballad  for my Born Again pals..

And beg each of them.. to... wake up

Chorus:

Where’s his wife and where’re his supporters?

Give him life in San Quentin Quarters

Do it for your sons and your daughters..

And for all.. the rest

Just “Be  Best”  and let’s vote him out

Then we.. can  all rest

Never forget

I was up until 1:30..playing solitaire  Scrabble on a lumpy mattress in the guest room with the old fashioned boxed game.

So I slept late that day..very late. 

 The air was crisp, the sunshine was abundant.  It was technically summer but it felt like turning leaves/pumpkin spice weather

I was about to get into the shower, and my poodle Max gave me a strange look.  A funny look.  

I wondered what was on his mind.

I cleaned up, got dressed, and listened to the message on my answering machine.

It was from Betsy, who said, "please call me back..if you can get through because of what's happening in New York City."

What could she possibly have meant?  Disrupted phone service that extended to New Jersey?? A massive power outage??

I turned on the TV and wondered what people were covered in.  They were being interviewed..was that..some kind of dust?? Was this BAD?  I couldn't tell in those brief seconds that I had the TV on.

I called Betsy back and got through right away.  She was crying, or sounded like she was.  I'd rather hear what was happening from her than the confusing news.

"The World Trade Center is gone!" she sobbed. "We've been attacked."

"But what about the people who were in it?"

"They're gone too, " she said, and then I think the receiver fell out of my hand as I absorbed the shock of what she was saying.

I thanked her for the information and turned the TV back on..and stayed glued to it for days.

Jim came home from work early and told me about the Pentagon and flight 93.

I called the school. Evan had just started first grade, and the kids were OK. We went to pick him up together at the usual dismissal time.  And explained what was happening as best as we could.

I picked him up the next day, when school resumed, and met the mother of his classmate. She had been on a pretty high floor in the second tower.  Her boss saved her..but couldn't save herself.  She told me about saving the shoes she wore and about taking refuge in the subway.

Evan wasn't into physical contact with strangers, but I made him hug Cindy. 

It was the least I could do.

My neighbors hung their American flags proudly that day.

It was the least they could do.

Heartbreak

I can’t stop seeing their faces and their  post-it tags that told the number of days he was gone.

( 320, I believe, when they spoke  so passionately and heartbreakingly at the DNC just a few weeks ago)

I saw the anguish in their faces but heard a tiny glimmer of hope in their voices. 

I still shiver when recalling this distraught mother’s description of the brutal slaying of his best friend, right before his very eyes.

He went to enjoy music. 

Something I do daily.

He went to travel in his beloved Homeland.

Something I’ve never done but Jim has.

His parents’ desperate pleas made us all know him. 

See him. 

Feel him.

I see the features on his handsome face and I cry. 

He lost his arm.. the dominant arm.. and lost months of a life he so richly deserved to live.

And now he lost his life… under tragic and horrifying circumstances.

I need to believe in Heaven so I can get an image of  Hersh enjoying sports and music there.

I need to believe in Hell, so I can get an image of the Hamas murderers getting what they deserve.

I need to thank his parents, who won’t ever see this and who I’ve never met, for sharing what his life was all about. 

It was heinously and unforgivably shortened, but it was a life of love, purity, and goodness.