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Miami Herald columnist Leonard Pitts Jr’s opinion piece of April 15, 2018, “There’s no excuse for excusing Trump’s moral corruption,” also got me thinking about the eighteen months that have passed since his election. Our president’s narcissistic need for approval over that period reminds me of a song from the Broadway Musical Fiddler on the Roof in which Tevya asks Golda if she loves him (although Tevya was not a narcissist and the question in the show was touching and understandable as their marriage had been arranged). I’ve reimagined their duet as between President Trump and the American People.

(To the tune of portions of “Do you Love Me,” by Jerry Bock & Sheldon Harnick, from Broadway Musical Fiddler on the Roof (1971))

President Trump:  “Do you love me?”
America:  “Do we what?”
“Do you love me?”
“Do we love you?”

“Through these eighteen odd months
you’ve lied to us, bullied us
made a fuss.
Eighteen odd months and
what have you done?
Created new problems
while you were solving none.”

“But do you love me?”
“Are you nuts?”
“Do we love you?”
“We hate your guts”

“You’ve been chafing out nerves
with ego shtick
which hasn’t improved
the world one lick.
Threatening war in juvenile tweets.
Using vile language nobody wise repeats”

“But do you love me?”
“Where’s your brain?”
“Do you love me?”
“Like we love pain.”

“Sir Horse’s Rump
you are our bane”.

Lyric © 2018 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

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