CHARADE

The November vote ended our suffering through the latest round of cynical congressional elections.  Now, the bandwagons are rolling on the 2016 presidential campaign.  Will we be duped again?

CHARADE
(To the tune of, “Charade,” by Henry Mancini and Johnny Mercer from the movie of the same name).

When they play their charade.
Nothing is as appearing.
They play a part,
dishonest art,
show actors on a stage

It’s all a masquerade.
Paper thin masks they’re wearing.
Not one word said
from their own head
only what’s on the page.

Then when the vote comes in.
The masks grow unrefined.
As IOUs begin
to be repaid in kind.

Then we know we’ve been played.
Bitter and angry, swearing
not to forget.
But we forget
each time they play charade.
But we forget
not to forget,
each time they play charade.

Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.

BUYING THE VOTES WITH CASH

The Miami Herald has been running series of investigative reports this week on for-profit colleges.  Today’s article dealt with how the colleges buy influence in Tallahassee and Washington by making large campaign contributions.  Thank you Supreme Court for Citizens United.  Here’s how the for-profit college industry might respond to the Herald’s findings.

 

BUYING THE VOTES WITH CASH
(To tune of, “Falling in Love with Love,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

Buying the votes with cash is how you gain influence.
Buying the votes with cash is knowing the rules.
Voting with just your vote is living a fantasy.
Voting on just one day is only for fools.

We buy the votes and so, we always get what we want.
Call it corruption, call it whatever you please.
You’d buy the votes, you would, if you had the wherewithal.
The world goes ‘round on sleaze.

Lyric © 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

PUT A BUCK IN YOUR POCKET, AND GIVE ONE TO UNCLE SAM – 2015

Here’s  a repeat of my April 15th anthem to all tax filing procrastinators who need a stiff drink before dropping their returns in the mailbox.

PUT A BUCK IN YOUR POCKET, AND GIVE ONE TO UNCLE SAM
(To the tune, “That’s One for My Baby, and One More For the Road,” by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer)

Set ‘em up Steve.
It’s April the fifteenth, tax filing eve.
I’ve got the form here,
But need a little booze, to loosen the fear.
For this line where it shows
how much one owes,
put me on edge, “damn!”
You put a buck in your pocket,
and give one, to Uncle Sam

Now don’t get me wrong.
All my patriotic feelings run strong.
The fervor feels nice.
But wish that could feel it, for half of the price.
It’s like you’d offer a meal.
But not if you feel
they would hog the whole ham.
You put a buck in your pocket
and give one to Uncle Sam.

Where’s it all going?
The government keeps growing.
It just grows and it grows.
We keep on sowing.
Without ever knowing
where it all goes.

Well that does it Steve.
The post office is closing, so I’ve got to leave.
Thanks for the cheer.
I probably will see you, this time next year.
That is, assuming that I’m
not serving some time,
If I get in a tax jam.
Put a buck in my pocket
and give none to Uncle Sam.

You put a buck in your pocket,
and good luck with Uncle Sam.

Lyric © 2013, 2014, 2015  by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

IT’S BEGINNING TO FEEL A LOT LIKE TAX TIME – 2015

 

IT’S BEGINNING TO FEEL A LOT LIKE TAX TIME
(To tune of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” by Meredith Willson (1951))

It’s beginning to feel a lot like tax time.
April of the year.
You’ve been scouring your checkbook for –
some charity checks and more –
the taxes on the homestead you love dear.

It’s beginning to feel lot like tax time.
Must they ruin the spring?
Feel afraid of the debt you’ll owe.
Afraid Uncle Sam will know
that you have not reported everything.

Deduct for that family trip, even the wine that you sip.
Claiming everything that you spend or do or use.
Driven miles on the family car, no matter to where or how far.
Self-assessment clouds the mind like booze.
And those who face an audit jam the pews.

It’s beginning to feel a lot like tax time.
Moral codes eschew.
Who’s to prevent you if,
you take off for a nifty skiff,
sailing off across the ocean blue?

It’s beginning to feel a lot like tax time.
Bribe your CPA.
Stick a pin in a voodoo doll.
Take a loan from your uncle Sol.
Then file your tax return and pray.

Lyric © 2012 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.