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