(To the tune of, “Ask Me How Do I Feel,” by Frank Loesser from the 1950 Broadway Musical Guys and Dolls)

Ask Trump what does he read
And he’ll tell you he doesn’t like reading.
Well if knowledge is food for the brain
His could use a good feeding.

Big decisions, a president’s task.
All he makes from the seat of his pants
“Bout one consequence, don’t even ask.
You’d be better off talking to plants.

Ask if he’s told a lie
He’ll react with his arrogance flaring.
Well if truth was a leaf on the tree
He’s a windstorm unsparing.

Then he’ll speak and jump into the fire
Right out of the pan.
Well, what could you expect
From a selfish and ignorant man.


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


On the reality show in the While House –

(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


Blame is a tactic President Trump often has used to deflect criticism. When criticized, he blames someone for something real, made-up or imagined. The death of Navy Seal William Ryan Owens in a failed military raid in Yemen is the fault of overzealous generals. The media and congress are investigating Russian communications made by members of his campaign, some of whom lied about those communications. Trump awakens Saturday morning tweeting they should also investigate President Obama’s wiretap of his Trump Tower phones. He states no source or evidence to support the charge but insists fairness demands an investigation. FBI director James Comey flatly says No! He asks the Department of Justice to repudiate the charge. Of course No! I The Russian matter heated-up when Trump’s National Security Advisor Michael Flynn and Attorney General Jeff Sessions were caught lying about their Russian contacts. Those lies are perhaps probable cause for criminal investigations not merely congressional inquiries. On the wiretap matter, we have only the President’s word. Was the source of the President’s charge a Breitbart story; or, did Trump dream it the night before? The dream possibility made me think of Johnny Mercer’s lovely song “Dream” on which this post is based.

(To the tune of, “Dream,” by Johnny Mercer (1944))

Blame, though you’ve not one clue.
Claim they’re surveilling you.
Listen to Limbaugh, read Breitbart for news
End-up with views.
That make others woozy.

Blame, showing who you are.
Blame, shifting fault afar.
Bound by no honor.
Feeling no shame.
You blame, blame, blame.

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


(To the tune of “Almost Like Being in Love,” by Frederick Lowe & Alan Jay Lerner (1947))

Trump has crowned himself King
Groucho’s one-liners zing
Well this feels like a Marx Brothers show.

With our rights being shorn
Harpo’s honking his horn.
Yes, this feels like a Marx Brothers show.

What dark humor we found in Duck Soup.
Trump and Bannon reprise that old Troupe.

And with this vaudeville clown
Came the circus to town.
Now it feels like the Marx Brothers
Reels like the Marx Brothers
Feels like a Marx Brothers show

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


(To the tune of “Little Girl Blue,” by Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart)


When his campaign began
I thought it was all in fun.
Another game to stoke his name
To my chagrin he’s won
And nothing feels quite the same
Dems sit and wonder who’s to blame.
Worry reigns over DC
Worry raindrops fall on me


I sit here and feel the raindrops
Storm clouds have sent
Feeling all spent.
Why am I feeling like the raindrops?
Trump will be president.

I sit here and mourn the future
Under this gent
Who’ll not repent
Why do I worry o’er the future?
Trump will be president.


What can we do?
What can this man do to us?
Have you read Sinclair Lewis?
Threats He wrote of should clue us.
Not to trust, this con man
We’ll soon call
President Trump.

Reprise Bridge

Why feel so glum?
Although this is a bummer
He’s winter’s cold harsh Drummer
In four-year’s-time may come a
Summer, wise man
To dethrone
President Trump.

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