P.S. WE’LL BOMB YOU

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.

 P.S. WE’LL BOMB YOU
(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

DEAR PRIME MINISTER

I previously posted a song (Mr. President) Prime Minster Netanyahu might sign to President Obama after speaking to congress.  This is my imagined response song from President Obama to Prime Minster Netanyahu.

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

What’s your hurry
to attack?
Why such worry
when we’ve got your back?
Now I sing to you responding to your song,
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

I’ve been working
on this deal.
A solution
at least that is real.
Military options won’t delay them long.
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

And more sanctions imposed with aplomb
Wont’ discourage them from working towards a bomb.

Be pragmatic
Realize
we’re good friends
and steadfast allies.
Twin democracies together we’ll stand strong.
Dear Prime Minister, “You’re wrong.”

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

DOWN IN HAVANA

DOWN IN HAVANA
(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

CIVILIZED WAR: A POEM

CIVILIZED WAR: A POEM  

We’ve not become so civilized as to end war:
But we’ve become too civilized to win war.
We decry the necessary brutality that war summons
taking pains to avert another Dresden,
While our enemies lop off heads;
and, laugh at our Geneva Convention vanity,
from urban redoubts behind civilian kryptonite.

They are not hypocrites like us,
who pretend that war has rules,
lest we not feel good about ourselves.
Perhaps it is that the wars we have
chosen to fight of late, are not of survival.
Perhaps they have been mechanisms
of greed to oil the economic wheels.

Perhaps we would recover the strength of will
to see war clearly, if the threat were existential.
Perhaps we would then deploy at war
the fullest, most brutal measure of our power
adhering only to the one honest rule of war,
should we be dragged into its madness –
that immoral slaughterhouse –
“Win by whatever device necessary.”

Knowing that afterwards, it is the victors
who will order rules, the vanquished
will be charged to have violated.

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

WHO’S FIGHTING WHO?

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.

WHO’S 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?

Reprise

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

TWISTING THE TRUTH

TWISTING THE TRUTH
(To tune of “How About You,” by Burton Lane and R. Freed)

Abbas cries genocide.
Twisting the truth.
That story runs worldwide.
Twisting the truth.

Hamas can strike Israel.
Murdering Jews.
“Drive them into the sea,”
Arab mentality.
But that’s not the news.

Gaza civilians die.
What an outrage!
Jihad they glorify.
Not on the page.

The aggressor should pay a price.
Next time they would think twice.
Call that uncouth?
I guess, if you’re twisting the truth.

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

THAT’S HOW WE FALL IN LOVE WITH DROPPING BOMBS

THAT’S HOW WE FALL IN LOVE WITH DROPPING BOMBS
(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.

Reprise

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

THEY’VE CLOSED MCDONALD’S

Russian authorities have closed all of Moscow’s McDonald’s restaurants.  The closures are allegedly over sanitary violations but few doubt they were for political reasons.

THEY’VE CLOSED MCDONALD’S
(To the tune of “We’re in the Money,” by Harry Warren & Al Dubin, from the film “Gold Diggers of 1933”)

They’ve closed McDonald’s.
They’ve closed McDonald’s.
That fellow Putin
feels like tootin’ his horn.

We level sanctions.
They’ll treble sanctions.
Feels like an old war.
Has that cold war been reborn?

Things happen and they do change.
In the Ukraine, a war.
Call Russia an invader.
But who made those maps they’ll soon redraw?

They’ve closed McDonald’s.
Moscow’s McDonald’s.
No Russian’s eatin’
U.S. meat in that town.

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

WAR IN THE DESERT

WAR IN THE DESERT
(To the tune of, “A Horse with No Name,” by Dewey Bunnell,, recorded by America in 1971)

The first time in the desert
We were eager to save Kuwait
From the clutches of a madman
Cause they had oil in that state
So we rolled some tanks and we dropped some bombs
And we chased him back to Bagdad
Then Papa Bush said, “Let’s go home.
Cause we’ve done enough to that cad”

First we went to the desert in defense of Kuwait
Cause they had oil in that state
When we went there, there wasn’t debate
For Saddam was someone, we could all hate

But war begets only war (To: la, la, la, la, la, la)
Of that you can be sure
A fool once said there would never be more
So they wrote,  Mr. President” on his door

The second time in the desert
We were chasing the Taliban
Cause they’d let Osama bin Laden train there
And he was a nasty man
So the CIA rode horses around
Nation building for miles and miles
But as always, our soldiers left town
Now the Taliban are all smiles

So we went to the desert in Afghanistan
|To get rid of the Taliban
And to the mountains that border Iran
Cause that’s where 9/11 began

But war begets only war
Of that you can be sure
A fool once said there would never be more
So they wrote “Mr. President” on his door

The third time in the desert
We were looking for weapons they had
Cheney said those evil weapons were there
So we fought our way to Bagdad
But the son of Bush wasn’t up to par
Wasn’t quite up to his dad
And bravado outpaced wisdom there
Only Halliburton felt glad

So we went to the desert once more in Iraq
Searching for a weapons stack
But those weapons were a desert mirage
A ruse made up for camouflage.

And war begets only war
Of that you can be sure
A fool once said there would never be more
So they wrote, “Mr. President” on his door

And this time in the desert
We’re back on the attack
Bombing ISIS weapons we’d left
To resuscitate Iraq
But Iraq never was a state
Just lines drawn in the sand
By the allies after WW I
But the Arabs never bought their plan

So we’re back in the desert, back in sandy Iraq
Like moths drawn to a flame
Into the desert, we’ll always go back
How to stay out of war? We haven’t the knack

And war begets only war
Of that you can be sure
A fool once said there would never be more
So they wrote “Mr. President” on his door.

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

IRAQ – TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE

 

David Fromkin, in his book, “A Peace to End all Peace – The Fall of the Ottoman Empire and Creation of the Modern Middle Ease (1989), attributes much of the troubles in the Middle East today to the Sikes-Picot Agreements (incorporated into the Treaty of Serves) in which the European Allies, following WW I, carved up the Ottoman Empire into spheres of influence that later became nation states.  Basically, they drew lines in the sand without regard to the ethnic or religious composition of the populations. Fromkin’s book begins with a quotation that I paraphrase, “After fighting the War to End all Wars, the allies commenced making a Peace to End all Peace.”

IRAQ – TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
(To tune of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You,” by Bob Crewe & Bob Gaudio, and made popular by Frankie Valli)
 
Verses:
Sounded too good to be true
“Our troops will go marching through
Once we get rid of Saddam
Democracy will be grand
Shia and Sunni won’t hate
The Kurds won’t build their own state”
What Cheney said we would do
Still sounds too good to be true

The secret weapons we’d sought
Of mass destruction proved naught
One great deception so nice
And now we’re paying the price
National debt is a scare
Veterans needing more care
McCain: “there’s still more to do.”
Still Sounds too good to be true

Chorus:
We should have known that
We’d have the mess we’ve got
We should have known that
Thank Sikes and thank Picot
We should have known that
Iraq is lines in the sand

And time has shown that
You reap the wheat you sow
Yes time has shown that
So much we didn’t know
Now, time has shown that
We still don’t understand

Verse:
And so we’ll work with Iran
Jump in the fire from the pan
Get in between man and God
Giving the Shiites the nod
The Saudi’s making a fuss
And both sides still hating us
Because we haven’t a clue
Still sounds too good to be true

Repeat chorus

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