The Ballad of New Bobby and Joan

This is the ballad

of new Bobby and Joan

Fender guitar-lords

with truth microphones

a daredevil’s mission

to gather us all

to shake us, and wake us

to answer the call

The pressure’s been building

at a pace that is steady

our ship has been drifting

now the people are ready

New Bobby and Joan

are taking the stage

with fine-tuned stringed weapons

and words dipped in rage

Bob nods at the drummer

to get the show started

he counts the band in

to the dark and uncharted

They follow Bob’s lead

tag along for the ride

Joanie plays rhythm off to the side:

“Gather your courage

for a darkness awaits you

take aim at the hate

and the man who berates you

beware of cracked shadows

and words made of hay

of crowned jokers with pokers

who demand that you to pray

The pols and preachers

can’t show you the way

their pockets are lined

by the players that pay”

The crowd gives applause

and they nod in approval

they know what they need

it’s not change, but removal

Bob sets the tone

with a sneer and a growl

stalking the stage

like a tank on the prowl

Joanie steps forward

and smiles at Bobby

she’s not just his muse

and she’s more than a hobby

Bobby sees Joanie step up to the mic

she covers terrain, like a train on a spike

“We’re zip-tied and tongue tied

by Silicon Valley

Kidnapped by agents

who crouch in the alley

we live in a land

that is free of the brave

led by a felon

both cruel and depraved

The dream we living

turns silkweed to ashes

torched by the rich

and the market that crashes

Elon and Donny

are having a spat

while democracy dies

in a GPT chat

Bobby steps forward

his guitar is smoking

there’s blood on the frets

of the Fender he’s choking

Joanie steps back

away from the light

Bobby’s a star

that eclipses the night

“The system ain’t broken

it works as intended

in the times we’re living

the truth isn’t rendered

when God taints your money

the peril is real

there’s no milk and honey

just poisonous zeal

where the rich just get richer

the poor get to bleed

just to get stitched up

and ground into seed


Joanie steps forward

and together they sing

the sad but true story

of men kissing the ring

“They tip toe through crypto

and heap praise on their king

in the land of bent knees

and the home of the bling

They take jets from Qutar

and cut aid to the poor

plan missions to Mars

and sell weapons for war

I don’t know about you,

but I can’t take anymore

It’s time to take names

and kick down the door

The last chord rings out

the cheers earn them their wage

they turn away from the mic

and they walk off the stage

This is the ballad

of new Bobby and Joan

Fender guitar-lords

with truth microphones

Torch your Tesla

Torch your Tesla

Elon Sucks

Burn those fucking ugly trucks

Screw the racist Nazi King

And his Orange ding-a-ling

Don’t despair, you have a choice

Use your wallet as your voice

Resist the darkness of this troll

Buy a Ford or Kia Soul

Keep the hope and dream alive

Be cool about the car you drive

Don’t be fooled by all the noise

From boisterous bullies and their toys

Torch your Tesla

Elon Sucks

Burn those fucking ugly trucks

Screw the racist Nazi King

And his Orange ding-a-ling

Spit and Gravel

Look at all the fabricated posts

from the father, son, and the wholly most

mother-Zucker serves a roast

and the saluting Nazi gives a toast

“All that matters is what we’ve grossed”

humility dies inside the boast

our nation’s veins become thrombosed

when hate and greed are double-dosed


We need a Dylan of our own

calling out the orange overgrown

fascist fuckwad on his throne

autocratic in his tone

his wind-filled ego overblown

a head that’s crammed with nothing known

as knives cut justice to the bone

he snaps her picture with his phone

he loves how she’s become so prone

to wickedness and testosterone


As lies unfurl and we unravel

As truth gets bashed by the Speaker’s gavel

The blood-soaked trail on which truth travels

gets paved with liar’s spit and gravel

Protesting the protestor

Extending gloved hands skyward in racial protest, U.S. athletes Tommie Smith, center, and John Carlos stare downward during the playing of the Star Spangled Banner after Smith received the gold and Carlos the bronze for the 200 meter run at the Summer Olympic Games in Mexico City on Oct. 16, 1968. Australian silver medalist Peter Norman is at left. (AP Photo)

Flags and songs aren’t people. They don’t have feelings or emotions.

The American flag and the national anthem are not capable of “feeling” respect or disrespect, any more than a dishcloth or AC DC’s “Highway to Hell.”

So, when some Americans say in anger, “He disrespected the flag” or “She disrespected the anthem!” what they’re actually saying is, “They disrespected my feelings for the flag and my feelings for my country.” I don’t deny the authenticity of their anger or their right to express it.

What I do have a problem with is their presumption. The presumption that everyone’s feelings for America should be the same – or the same as theirs.

The American experience is not uniform (and never has been). For example, as a white American male, I haven’t felt the sting of systemic racism. But just because I haven’t felt it doesn’t mean it’s not there; it simply means I didn’t experience it personally. So systemic racism did not shape my American experience, the way it shaped George Floyd’s family or the experience of millions of other African Americans.

For me to understand something that I haven’t experienced, I need to listen and employ empathy. And if there’s one thing in short supply in America, it’s empathy.

Many Americans don’t want to hear about someone else’s experience, especially if it does not mirror their own. So, when they see an Olympic athlete protest, they immediately dismiss the protester as ungrateful, selfish, and un-American. They never pause to consider that individual’s experience – they don’t want to know why the person is protesting – they simply point a finger and condemn or compare the protesting athlete to one who did not protest.

But when Americans see an aggrieved citizen of a communist country stand up for their rights, we (almost uniformly) celebrate their protest as brave and heroic. Demonstrating that even though empathy is in short supply, there’s an abundance of hypocrisy in the USA.

America was not born perfect. In the past, women and blacks could not vote, gay people could not marry, and civil rights were a pipe dream. And so, Americans (including Olympic athletes) fought, protested, and marched against these injustices.

And even though we stand head-and-shoulders above most other countries when it comes to freedom and opportunity, we are not yet that “perfect union” – that’s always going to be a goal. It’s always going to be America’s journey. And along the road to that more perfect union, Americans (and American athletes) protest or march or fight to shed light on things like racism, sexism, and voter suppression.

That’s been our history, and it has served us well.

In a Democracy, Criticism is Love

A lot of people mistake criticism of America by citizens as hate towards their country. I would argue the opposite is true – that criticism is love when it comes to democracy.

American democracy is an ongoing experiment, one that remains in pursuit of a more perfect union. And so, America consistently tries to live up to the ideals on which she was founded. And when the government that represents us does not live up to those ideals or starts to stray away from democratic principles, we must correct America’s course, through constructive criticism, through dissent and protest, and through the vote.

In America, the citizens are not static witnesses to democracy – we don’t sit idly by when our representatives behave in ways that contradict American ideals. We don’t sit on our hands or keep our mouths shut when we see systemic racism and an unfair justice system. We don’t just go along with a president who inspires and praises a violent insurrection against our country. Instead, we speak up loudly and condemn lies and the deplorable actions that spring from those lies, and we do so because we love America, not because we hate America.

As citizens, we are not parented by our government. We are not obliged to remain silent in deference to government officials when they go afoul of democratic principles and American ideals.

In a democracy, the citizens are the parents or the controlling authority, and when you see your child behaving poorly, you don’t ignore the behavior because you love them. Instead, you criticize the behavior, demand that they change the behavior. . . . because you love them.

Somehow, our understanding of the relationship between the government and its citizens has gotten totally twisted. So many of us view our President or government as infallible parental figures that should be obeyed and respected at all times. We think that speaking out against either means you don’t love or respect America.

In a democracy, criticism is love. In a democracy, criticism is our responsibility, especially when we see America straying from the principles on which she was founded.

Everybody sing along to the Troompa Loompa song . . .

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Troompa Loompa dipitty-dee

We’ve got an orange presidency

Troompa Loompa

Liar in Chief, a two-bit gangster

A thug and a thief

What do you get when you vote for a schmuck?

A science-denying know-nothing fuck

When the guy at the top

Doesn’t know how to think

The world will always be on the brink

 

Troompa Loompa dipitty-dense

The orange-faced-moron

never makes sense

Troompa Loompa dippy-dang

Be better off with a President Yang

What do you get when you vote for fool?

A monosyllabic orange-faced tool

When the guy at the top

is a know-nothing hack

We never move forward

We always move back

Troompa Loompa dipitty-dump

We’ve got a guy who likes to flag hump

Troompa Loompa dipitty-shit

Aren’t Troompa Loompas tired of it?

What do you get when you vote for a dick?

An immoral moron who makes you feel sick

When anger and fear get spun into hate

We’ll never ever

Make America Great

 

Troompa Loompa dipitty-doo

To get rid of orange, you gotta vote blue

Troompa Loompa dipitty-dye

Trump is worse than a stick in the eye

What do you get when you fall for the ruse?

A burnt-orange menace who parrots Fox news

We’re deep in the weeds

Stuck in the morass

Still republican’s kiss that sorry fat ass.

Troompa Loompa dipitty-dee

We’ve got an orange presidency

Troompa Loompa dipitty day

Can’t wait for November to vote him away

The Threat

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The threat is existential

the rhetoric is real

hate can hinder progress

when a liar lies with zeal

Democracy’s a drunk

she teeters on the curb

and every day’s a day

we have to reckon the absurd

America’s in chaos

she’s lost in discontent

fertile ground for revolution

discord and dissent

Ask who stands to gain

when the country’s split in two

the ones who gain the most

are never me and you

Time to take her back

put her proudly on that hill

let her shine

 the way she used to

before the Russians

found their shill