THAT’S WHY THE MIDDLE CLASS HAS CRAMPS – 2015

Recent articles have prophesied the death of the middle class.  If not now on its deathbed, it is certainly suffering from a severe case of the cramps.  I’ve updated my post of November 10, 2011.

THAT’S WHY THE MIDDLE CLASS HAS CRAMPS – 2015
(To tune of “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

The rich own lobbies and lobbies buy votes.
Candidate’s whinny like horses for oats.
To get elected, and ride gravy boats.
That’s why the middle class has cramps.

“Money creates jobs,” those say who play god.
“Give us your blessings, we’ll spare you the rod.”
Bankers kill hopes with a nay not a nod.
That’s why the middle class has cramps.

About that dream, a house with no debt.
Brother forget.
You’re hosed.
Foreclosed!

Our constitution our high court revamps.
That’s why the middle class has cramps.

They told you work hard and you’d achieve.
Fools who’d believe.
No joke.
We’re broke!

No funds for college or kids’ summer camps.
That’s why the middle class has cramps

Lyric © 2011, 2015 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

 

THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT

The government in Venezuela is now requiring besieged consumers to submit to fingerprinting when buying goods.

THAT’S WHY THEY WANT MY FINGERPRINT
(To the tune of, “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

There is no butter
And still the fools wait
Out in the gutter
The bread’s gone by eight
Peer through shop windows at bare shelves they hate
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Am I a hoarder?
The state wants no greed
Write down my order
For coffee indeed
Wait in that line, what they have I don’t need
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

Who will reform our economy?
What comedy.
Some joke, we’re broke.

If you want dollars, you’d need your own mint
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

They say it’s smugglers.
Who make the goods rare
But they’re like jugglers.
Ten pins in the air.
Nobody hears them above the despair.
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

As merchants leave they board up the shops.
Farms grow no crops.
Oil’s sweet, to eat?

No toilet paper, don’t they get the hint?
That’s why they want my fingerprint.

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

 

PENNIES ARE HEAVEN

Periodically the movement to get rid of the penny reactivates. The argument goes that the cost to produce the penny exceeds one cent – even though the cooper penny is now over 90% zinc.  In the end, however, whatever its composition, the penny endures.

PENNIES ARE HEAVEN

(To tune of, “Pennies From Heaven,” by Arthur Johnston & Johnny Burke (1936))

If you need to make some change,
Pennies are heaven.
When the price-mark’s something strange
Like $9.57.

Some say the cost is wasteful
I say, “No thanks!”
What would we use to fill up
Our piggy banks?

Say you want to ditch that old coin.
What are you thinkin’?
Illinois pleads don’t dare purloin
The face of Lincoln

So when your pockets jangle
That’s no mystery
Pennies are heaven
And will always be.

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

BITCOIN’S GONE NOW

Mt Gox, one of the Bitcoin exchanges, is filing for bankruptcy after almost half a billion Bitcoins disappeared, virtual and virtually gone. 

BITCOIN’S GONE NOW
(To tune of, “My Man’s Gone Now,” by George Gershwin, Ira Gershwin and DuBose Heyward, from American folk opera, “Porgy and Bess.”)

Bitcoin’s gone now
Virtual and new it was
Too good to be true it was
All those Bitcoins prized

Bitcoin’s gone now
No one will be spending it
Bankruptcy is ending it
Is anyone surprised?

So virtual
And so contrived

Bitcoin’s gone now
Oh I got in much too late
Someone needs to regulate
It’s time they realized

Bitcoin’s gone now
Almost half-a-bill of it
Think I’ve had my fill of it
Dreams of gold downsized

So virtual
And so contrived

Bitcoin’s gone now
Use to bite coins testing them
Bitcoins would be besting them
It was advertised

Bitcoin’s gone now
For lessons learned I’m thanking it
From now on I’m banking it
Any cash derived

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

DEVALUATION

Venezuela’s government has announced an overhaul of its foreign currency system that has been widely labeled a stealth devaluation.

DEVALUATION
(To tune of “Imagination,” by Jimmy Van Heusen & Johnny Burke (1940))

Devaluation’s not funny
It steals the value of money
Prices hop like a bunny
And no one is amused

Devaluation is phony
Just like that ole’ one-trick-pony
A government sells baloney
When populism’s abused

Oh I love to by a brand new car
The gasoline is cheap
But it takes a zillion bolivars so
My old car I keep

Devaluation is needed?
Cause stupid laws go unheeded?
They try to camouflage
The great leader’s a clown
And as Maduro’s ego deflates
A country leaves town

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

EVERYONE COVER YOUR NOSES

Pope Francis in a papal paper yesterday criticized trickle-down economics and the “idolatry of money.” Clearly countering the Gordon Gekko motto, “Greed is good,” the Pope referred to a “New Tyranny,” of unregulated Capitalism that will increase power for the few and worsens poverty for the many.  “Such an economy kills,” and, is “unjust at its roots,” he said, pointing to the growing inequity of this Darwinist system of rewards.

EVERYONE COVER YOUR NOSES
(To the tune of “Everything’s Coming Up Roses,” by Julie Styne and Stephen Sondheim from the Broadway show “Gypsy” (1959) performed in the original stage show by Ethyl Merman)

Something smells, something stinks.
All the narrowness Rush Limbaugh thinks
But the Pope, is no dope
He says: “everyone cover your noses.”

What is rank? What is foul?
All those free-market cultists who growl.
“All for one. You’ll get none.”
People: everyone cover your noses

Cynics grinning. Get a whiff of the air.
Most not winning; Hope for their future is thinning.

Self-inspired. All for self.
Put morality up on the shelf
Want no rules.  Trash Gibran.
Don’t be fools.   Read Ann Rand.
Pretentious self-made-winners greed propels.
People: everyone cover your noses,
Cause something here smells.

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