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

My iPhone

My iPhone
(To the tune of “My Guy,” written by Smokey Robinson and recorded by Mary Wells)

Nothing I could buy, could make me put aside
My iPhone.
There’s not a book I need, everything I can read
On my iPhone.
My iPhone is my buddy, It belongs in my pocket
At night right beside me it’s charging in the socket.
I’m simply mad about, what I couldn’t live without.
My iPhone.

I google and I’m smart, but not when I’m apart
From my iPhone.
I only know to go, to find what I should know
On my iPhone.
I’m searching and I’m texting and I’m tweeting fast.
Get a screen-light high, my heart is beating fast.
In winter how I love, what I’m holding in my glove.
My iPhone.

Now scientists are finding phones can make you dumb
If you seldom use your brain and only use you thumbs.
Melania should inform President Trump
How his thumbs are getting larger
While his brain’s a stump.

My intelligence wanes, and the doctor explains
It’s my iPhone.
Few people I will meet, cause I rather would tweet
Them on my iPhone.
My iPhone’s an extension of who I am.
My humanity’s dying and I don’t give a damn.
Like an addict getting kicks, always itching for a fix
From my iPhone.

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

 

 

THE PRESIDENT IS A TROLL

THE PRESIDENT IS A TROLL*
(To the tune of, “The Gentleman is a Dope,” by Richard Rodgers & Oscar Hammerstein II, from the Broadway Show “Allegro,” (1947) )

The President is a troll
Don’t take him at his word
He plays a game
But takes no blame
The spectacle’s absurd
The President is a troll
With power to provoke
Flooding the web with his nonsense
With mirrors and self-made smoke

The President loves to grope.
And chaos is his goal
He isn’t suave
No Romanov
He is, No he’s a mole.
The President is a troll
And Twitter is his drug
A trawler inside the world-wide-web
He’ll slime you in time, this slug.

He’s tweets are too crass to mention
He boastfully feels no shame
All done to gain more attention
Does he not know he’s smearing his own name?

The President is a troll.
And trolls are Nazi-Huns.
Taking aim
No guilt, no shame.
At vulnerable ones.
The President is a troll.
The lowest road he takes.
Demeaning the President’s office.
Not seeing how high are the stakes.

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

*Post inspired by Amanda Hess article, “Click Bait,” (NYT Magazine, Sunday, March 5, 2017)

AND SO IT ALL BEGAN (NO MORE WAR)

AND SO IT ALL BEGAN (NO MORE WAR)
(To tune of “And I love You So,” by Don McClean (1970)).

God created Man.
With free-will from above.
And Man created war.
The opposite of love.

And so it all began.
His finger touched the ground.
So hard to see the plan.
When peace nowhere is found.

And so I ask the heaven’s up on-high.
Do children have to die?
Though I try to comprehend.
And God, you know, we’re all at your command.
You’d need but raise a hand.
And all war would surely end.

God created man.
Oft-times I ask, “what for?”
To hate and to make war?
That cannot be the plan.

The truth would be sublime
Light given from above
God would not waste His time.
And not believe in love.

And so I ask the heaven’s up on-high.
Do children have to die?
War is hard to comprehend.
And God, you know, we’re all at your command.
You’d need but raise a hand.
And all war would surely end.

No more war, it has to end.

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

GETTING ALL MY FACTS ON FACEBOOK

This post was inspired by Johnathan Mahler’s New York Times Sunday Magazine (1/1/2017) article “Search Party”

GETTING ALL MY FACTS ON FACEBOOK
(To the tune of “There’s a Small Hotel,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)

Trolling from some news
That will serve my views
Getting all my facts on Facebook.

Whey check for a source?
Trust that site? Of course!
I’m getting all my facts on Facebook.

What is true or untrue is
No longer consequential
Tweets are instrumental
Presidential.

No one wants the facts
Lies are what attracts
Likes and followers on Facebook

Post a made-up rumor
To create abject confusion
Give truth a contusion
Spread delusion.

Truth’s now pliable
What’s undeniable?
Reality’s a cake
With fake news quick to bake
When getting all my facts on Facebook.

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