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

WELCOME TO ABSURDUM

WELCOME TO ABSURDUM
(To original melody)

Welcome to Absurdum
A place they used to call America.
And if you’re coming to the USA
Best pack a bullet-proof vest.
All the crazies live here.
Loaded guns everywhere.
So you’d better steer clear.
God bless America.

Welcome to Absurdum
Now look who’s vying to be president.
An egomaniac with a coif.
A lady who wants to wear the pants.
Soon the crazies will vote.
“Open-carry” promote.
Privacy’s in the moat.
Liberty’s a game of chance.

Welcome to Absurdum
A place they used to call America.
Honest Abe’s restless grave.
Sees us fooled all the time.
Oligarchs plot and rule.
Lobbyists selling mule.
Try to live on a dime.
God bless America.

© 2016 By Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved

HOLD NO HEARINGS

HOLD NO HEARINGS
(To the tune of “Ol’ Man River,” by Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II, from the 1927 musical show “Showboat”)

Intro

Here we all live by a constitution.
We’ve a High Court to proclaim its voice.
The President submits a nomination.
The Senate confirms or rejects his choice.

Republicans say screw the constitution.
Chances of hearings, not even slim.
“Scalia’s seat is our own for keeping.
Want a new Justice who’ll vote like him.”

Verses

Hold no hearings.
We’ll hold no hearings.
Mitch tells Obama
Spare us the drama.
We’ll hold no hearings.
There’ll be no hearings this year.

And Merrick Garland
Won’t mete out justice.
The cards in our hand
Laid-out say just this.
We’ll hold no hearings.
There’ll be no hearings this year.

Bridge

Democrats can rant and worm.
His nomination we’ll not confirm.
But, heads you lose, tails you lose.
Should President Trump be the one to choose.

Verse

Call us laggards.
Say we’re stonewalling.
Approval ratings
Can just keep falling.
We’ll hold no hearings.
There’ll be no hearings this year.

Lyric © 2016 by Robert S. Steinberg, Esquire
All rights reserved.

 

HILARY

Tax Foolery has lampooned Donald Trump.  Now it’s Hilary Clinton’s turn.

HILARY
(To tune of “Heavenly” by Burt Bacharach and Syd Shaw as recorded by Johnny Mathis on 1959 album of the same name)

Oh Hilary!  Our Hilary!
Keeps Bill inside a pillory.
Or else he’d fool around.
Often she’s found
her man about town.

Now Hilary! Our Hilary!
Will need her own distillery.
To drink to all those emails leaking out.

Yes, we know her –
a ma’am in pants.
Those liberal ideals she cants.
Whilst taking cash, from foreign friends.
And who knows where, the scandal ends.

That’s Hilary! Our Hilary!
Oh, the pretense is chilling me.
A queen who would be king,
Our Hilary!

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

HE’S THE TRUMP 2

The first GOP presidential debate led me to believe we needed some more verses of “He’s the Trump,” (original posted June 27, 2015).

HE’S THE TRUMP 2
(To the tune of “You’re the Top,” by Cole Porter)

He’s the Trump
To the nuts will pander.
He’s the trump.
Thinks that “rude” is candor.
He’s the little brat, having tantrums that
all the neighbors dread.
He’s Napoleon, a relentless Hun,
He’s the biggest head.

He’s the Trump.
On the bully pulpit.
Serving rump.
And the media gulp it.
If he’s campaign should end in the garbage dump.
He’ll proclaim he’s still the winner
He’s the Trump.

He’s the Trump.
Implies Meagan’s menstrual.
In no slump.
Calls his reign eventual.
He’s the charging herd, of verbal turd a clump.
But he’s always true to Donald.
He’s the Trump.

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