DO YOU LOVE ME?

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.

 DO YOU LOVE ME?
(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

MY SHOW

On the reality show in the While House –

MY SHOW
(To the tune of “My Guy,” by Smokey Robinson as recorded by Mary Wells)

I won the starring role
Now I’ve taken control
It’s my show.
Don’t hand me no script
Cause I’ll won’t be tight-lipped
It’s my show.
I’m taking no advice from no well-read advisor
Who may be educated, ‘cause I know I’m wiser.
I’m telling you where it’s at
I wear the bosses hat
It’s my show.

Better not disagree
Never contradict me
It’s my show.
There’s an ever growing pile
Those I’ve fired with a smile
It’s my show.
I suppose I should govern while the world’s overheating
Give the job my attention but I’m too busy tweeting.
I’ve told you from the start
I’m a showman at heart
It’s my show.

If you ask for my opinion
How my presidency rates?
I’ll tell you It’s the greatest one
Of these United States
If you’ve asked for my opinions
‘Bout the world or country
By now you know  my answers
Ramble on about me.

No one in DC
Can take the spotlight off me
It’s my show.
I can threaten a war
My Nielsen Ratings will soar
It’s my show
Fox is filling up my head with combustible news
I’m wearing silk pajamas while they’re warping my views
I feel just like a King
Just doing my thing
It’s my show.

 

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

I’D RUSH RIGHT IN WITHOUT A GUN

Our humble president has just crowned himself a hero by claiming he’d have rushed right into the Marjory Stoneman Douglas School during the shooting, even without a gun.

 I’D RUSH RIGHT IN WITHOUT A GUN
(To the tune of “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

I am a hero with medals galore
I’ve rescued swimmers while safe on the shore.
I’m so courageous, all threats are a bore.
And I’d rush right in without a gun.

I hit a homer of World Series fame.
I scored a touchdown in a Super Bowl game.
If you don’t believe me, Fake News is to blame.
And I’d rush right in without a gun.

I used my clout, to skip Viet Nam.
But truth be damned.
I’m brave.
No knave.

I grab girl’s privates, to me that such fun.
But I’d rush right in without a gun.

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

Our humble president has just crowned himself a hero by claiming he’d have rushed right into the Marjory Stoneman Douglas School during the shooting, even without a gun.

 I’D RUTH RIGHT IN WITHOUT A GUN
(To the tune of “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

I am a hero with medals galore
I’ve rescued swimmers while safe on the shore.
I’m so courageous, all threats are a bore.
And I’d rush right in without a gun.

I hit a homer of World Series fame.
I scored a touchdown in a Super Bowl game.
If you don’t believe me, Fake News is to blame.
And I’d rush right in without a gun.

I used my clout, to skip Viet Nam.
But truth be damned.
I’m brave.
No knave.

I grab girl’s privates, to me that is fun.
But I’d rush right in without a gun.

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

 

WHEN DONALD TWEETS

WHEN DONALD TWEETS
(To the tune of, Up on the Roof,” by Gerry Goffin and Carole King as recorded by The Drifters (1962))

When Donald Trump wakes up on his throne
He reaches for his phone
And starts to type.
Begins to tweet what’s gotten him steamed
Or what he’s dreamed
To need a morning hype.

When Donald tweets what’s fuming in his head.
The White House staff all wish they’d stayed in bed.

Let me tell you now

A president should measure his words
Not seem absurd
Like someone’s angry aunt.
And one who is the voice of the State
Should ruminate
Like Plato and not rant.

But Donald proudly brags he doesn’t read.
How could we let an ignoramus lead?

And do I have to say that

Swagger on the nuclear stage
And ego rage alarm
the world elites
The missile codes are under his thumb
So we’re at DEFCON I
When Donald Tweets.
When Donald Tweets
When Donald Tweets

 

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

HOW WE MOP THE MAP

Gerrymandering is so unfair that one would like to think the courts would find it a no-brainer.  Yet it is far from certain that this Supreme Court will not uphold a state legislature’s right to draw whatever district voting boundaries it feels like drawing regardless of how contorted those boundaries become or whether they cause a loss of voting parity to many.

HOW WE MOP THE MAP
(To the tune of, What I Did for Love, by Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban, from the 1975 Broadway Musical, A Chorus Line.)

Kiss your seat goodbye
Watch us Gerrymander
Bleach your district lily white
Carve it to the right.
How we mop the map.
How we mop the map.

A Rorschach to the eye.
Like stealing though much grander.
Gets those democrats all psyched.
Rope-out the votes disliked.
How we mop the map.
How we mop the map.

Un-fair yet no one stops.
Our re-district mops.
Lock-in our selection.

You gave it a good try
For a fair election.
But fairness is a loser’s prop.
Stand and clap, it’s a wrap,
How we mop the map.
How we mop the map.

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

GOODBYE COMEY

GOODBYE COMEY
(To the tune of “Goodnight Sweetheart,” by Ray Noble, Jimmy Campbell & Reg Connelly (1931))

Goodbye Comey.
On my nerves you’re grating.
Goodbye Comey.
Ends investigating.

Come tomorrow.
My new FBI.
Will bandage the sty.
Confirm my alibi.

Goodbye Comey.
Democrats are whining.
Goodbye Comey.
Who’d suspect bad timing?

Hate stiff Prussians.
Why can’t I love those Russians?
Goodbye Comey.
Goodbye.

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg
All rights reserved

THAT’S WHY THE COUNTRY’S IN DEEP SHIT

T’S WHY THE COUNTRY’S IN DEEP SHIT
(To the tune of, “That’s Why the Lady is a Tramp,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

Promising jobs that machines will usurp.
Thinks we’re Dodge City and he’s Wyatt Earp.
Doesn’t know Cairo from Prague or Antwerp.
That why the Country’s is deep-shit

Disavows reading, says he knows it all.
Waits by the hot-line for Putin to call.
Bridges are crumbling, he’s building a wall.
That’s why the Country’s in deep-shit.

Rash threats he’s aimed at mad Kim Jong Un.
That psychotic son.
Who spooks
With nukes.

The planet’s warming, with Trump coal’s a hit.
That’s why the Country’s in deep shit.

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

OBAMACARE

OBAMACARE
(To the tune of, “Our Love is Here to Stay,” by George Gershwin & Ira Gershwin.)

Obamacare.
Thankfully here to stay.
Another year
Under the ACA

Republicans and the President
Promising to repeal and replace.
Suffered embarrassment.
All of them losing face.

Obamacare.
Mandates the right abhors.
But to be fair.
Millions that law insures.

Donald may grimace and grumble.
Not being humble.
But, “Health-care for all,” we say.
Obamacare
Hooray!

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.

DON’T BELIEVE THE GOP

It is richly ironic that the GOP health care replacement bill for Obamacare is poised to sink in the House not because it fails to insure enough Americans but because the most ideological wing of the party believes it insures too many.

DON’T BELIEVE THE GOP
(To the tune of, “Do You Hear the People Sing? (Barricade Song from Broadway Show “Les Miserables,” by Alain Albert Boublil, Claude Michel Schonberg, Herbert Krtezmer & Jean Marc Natel).

Don’t believe the GOP
vowing to benefit your health.
It’s a tax-cut they’re proposing now
to generate more wealth.
Trust the truth inside your head
and not the balderdash you’re fed.
Know this legislation’s telling
you to drop dread.

The Republicans are saying
that your welfare is their aim.
Believe the game they’re playing,
you’ll have no insurance claim.

Don’t believe the GOP.
When have they ever kept their word?
Saying more people will be covered now.
The statement is absurd.
Trust the truth inside your head
and not the balderdash you’re fed.
Know this legislation’s telling
you to drop dead.

Lyric © 2017 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.