Forty-seven GOP Senators sent a letter to the Iranian leadership telling them that the nuclear negotiations will result in no binding deal unless the Senate votes to approve one.  Here’s a parody of their letter in song.

(To the tune of “P.S. I love You,” by Gordon Jenkins & Johnny Mercer)

Thought we’d drop a line to say
Obama’s wrong, he has no sway.
We’ll decide what we should do.
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

Thought you had the perfect deal?
Until we vote, nothing’s for real.
Lest you haven’t got a clue
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

Write to the Pres – tell him that you’d adhere to
whatever deal you’d approve.
Though you’re secret sites, you will let no one near to.
We think a bomb, or two’s the right move.

Guess there’s nothing more to tell.
Except that you, can go to hell.
Hope this message doesn’t calm you.
P.S. We’ll bomb you.

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


This is what Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu might sing to President Obama if invited to perform at the White House after addressing congress.

(To the tune of, “Mr. Wonderful,” by Jerry Bock, Larry Holofcener & George David Weiss, from the 1956 Broadway show of the same name)

Why this rancor?
Why this gloom?
Why this fear of an impending doom?
I’ll be here and then I’ll be flying home.
Mr. President, “Shalom.”

Why our worry
‘bout Iran?
Well, they’d nuke us
as soon as they can.
The Ayatollah mocks your hopeful tome.
Mr. President, “Shalom.”

Do you really believe that Iran
will abide by your dear peaceful plan?

They’ve been stalling
biding time.
Centrifuges meanwhile
whistle and chime.
So I’ll leave you with this one simple gnome
Mr. President, “Shalom.”


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


(To the tune of, “South of the Border,” by Jimmy Kennedy & Michael Carr (1939))

Down in Havana, in Cuba today
The cabbies drive classic cars.
Beneath the stars
Along the Bay.
The chicks, sly and tempting.
The men there to play.
Down in Havana, in Cuba today.

Obama is saying, let’s open the town.
Time to forgive the past,
The rum goes fast
When you’ve sorrows to drown.
Meanwhile, Fidel is smiling, and Raul seems so gay.
Down in Havana, in Cuba today.

First the mob made a deal with Batista
El-Presidente’ wore a green sash.
Cause for dollars he’d sell you his sister.
Throw in his brother for hard cash.

Up in Miami, you’ll hear people say
“Bring back democracy,”
But history, didn’t go quite that way
For they’ve had other dictators
Castro’s a replay.
Down in Havana, in Cuba today.

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


Tracking who is fighting who in Syria and Iraq can become pretty confusing. President Obama has vowed to degrade and destroy the Islamic State (IS).  IS seeks to overthrow Syrian President Assad.  Other Syrian rebels also want to overthrow Assad but simultaneously fight IS.  The Nusra Front, an offshoot of al Qaeda, likewise fights against Assad, but seeks to attack the West as well.  Turkey fears IS but fears the Kurds obtaining a state more; so, it refuses to help the PKK (Kurdish separatists in Turkey labeled by the West as terrorists) fight IS or to offer help that would strengthen the Kurdish position.  Iran’s proxy Hezbollah and some of its own forces are fighting in Iraq against IS to protect Shiite interests and Holly sites.  Saudi Arabia has funded Sunni terrorists (even being linked to helping the 9/11 perpetrators) but wants no part of Sunni IS, but also does not want to help grow the Shia influence in the region.  All is all, the war, seems more like a drunken bar brawl, in which onlookers cannot easily decipher who is fighting who.

(To tune of, “Who’s Sorry Now?” (1923) by, Ted Snyder, Bert Kalmar and Harry Ruby)


Who’s fighting who?
I wish I knew.
Seems like our friends
are our enemies too.

An Islamic State,
the Shia would hate.
Assad also hates them, that’s great!
Turkey’s afraid
Kurdistan will be made.
I wonder who’s fighting who?


Our warplanes hunt
the Nusra Front,
friends of our rebel friends, to be blunt.
The Saudi’s play
all sides all the way.
I wonder who’s fighting who?


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


(To tune of, “Old Cape Cod” by Claire Rothrock, Milton Yakus & Allan Jeffrey, (1957) recorded by Patti Page)

If you see some terrorists whom you don’t like.
Bet you’ll feel better after one air-strike.
That’s how we fall in love with dropping bombs.

Since we’ve built a submarine that carries nukes.
We’ll want to launch a few against those kooks.
That’s how we fall in love with dropping bombs.

Viet Nam was like a bombing range.
In Iraq the Shock and Awe was strange.
On Pakistan we dropped a ton or two.
Don’t look up a bomb may fall on you

There’s no need for combat troops, no boots on ground.
With aircraft carriers and jets in-bound.
That’s how we fall in love with dropping bombs.


But, bombs are no solution for this crazy world.
The madness continues after bombs are hurled.
And yet, we fall in love with dropping bombs.

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