I adore parodies, and The Parody Project is cranking out some real gems. Just in time for holiday viewing, 12 Months of Trump’s Mess,
a month-by-month summary of his insane political agenda in 2017.
The Parody Project does non-Christmas parodies, too, like Confounds the Science and Fifty Ways We Can Recover. Check them out. There’s a “donate” button on YouTube. You’re welcome, and Merry Christmas!
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Independence Day! Woo hoo! A paid day off for picnics, parades, and fireworks to celebrate our freedom. Well, the scraps of it we haven’t traded away in the name of our “safety and security.” Big Brother’s presence seems kind of comforting, right? That’s exactly how he gets his foot in the door. Remember, if he’s looking out for you, he must also have his eye on you. You and everyone else. Watch enough cop shows and you will learn what’s possible; they don’t just make all that stuff up, you know. You could dismiss this whole post, write me off as
a crackpot conspiracy theorist. It’s your prerogative. But as they say, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.
THE EYE IN THE SKY
The spy next door that peeks
around her curtain night and day
is not just “being neighborly.”
More likely, CIA.
You know that crackling static
while you wait for the dial tone?
It could be someone listening in,
a wire tap on your phone.
The camera on your monitor
that transmits while you Skype
sees every keystroke that you make,
each password that you type.
Cells and hard drives can’t delete
your comms or browsing history.
The back-up files are always there;
just how remains a mystery.
Tabs are kept on bank accounts
with each transaction logged.
Credit cards know where you shop
and stay alert for fraud.
The black box hiding in your car
stores constant data readings.
It knows if you don’t buckle up
and how fast you were speeding.
ATMs and traffic cams
have facial recognition.
The GPS inside your phone
can ping without permission.
We’re slowly being poisoned
by Big Pharma and Big Ag,
your death marked “undetermined”
as they zip the body bag.
My buddies say I’m paranoid,
and are they right? You betcha.
These days you gotta watch your back;
this world is out to getcha.
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The NONET is a poetic form based on nines. There are nine lines. The first line has nine syllables. Each successive line has one fewer, a sort
of “countdown” to the finish. I chose to repeat the Earth Day theme because, well, it bears repeating. Scientists know global warming has put our planet in a precarious position. She is teetering on the brink of a meltdown and when she goes, we all go. That seems reason enough to get your head out of Uranus, educate yourself on the many simple, Earth-friendly habits in your power, and start putting them in practice.
EARTH’S ULTIMATUM: LIVE “GREEN” OR DIE
Stripped of fossil fuels and rainforests,
feverish with greenhouse gasses,
knee-deep in melting ice caps,
rocked by violent storms,
choked on pollutants,
Earth draws a line
and dares us
to cross
it
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A great place to utilize poetry is in writing SONG LYRICS, our Tower Group assignment for the next meeting. My answer to the challenge is a simple limerick series (like last week) with a refrain. More Trump bashing? You betcha. If “the Donald” wants us to quit roasting him,
he needs to stop pouring gasoline on the fire. “When you put it that way, it sounds like a pack of blatant, stupid lies,” someone remarked. Umm, yeah. That’s pretty much the definition of “alternative facts.”
JUST OUT OF BRAIN-WASHINGTON
(From Trump’s Lips to Your Ears)
Refrain:
Believe in alternative facts
Whoopee for alternative facts!
Put the truth on the shelf
and keep telling yourself
“I believe in alternative facts”
Believe in alternative facts
All you need is alternative facts
Disregard honesty
and repeat after me
“I believe in alternative facts”
Verses:
My inaugural crowd was so vast,
it’s sure to remain unsurpassed
That people would think
a few marchers in pink
had outdone us, that leaves me aghast
(Refrain)
My cabinet’s filling up fast
and seats for advisory staff
A fluke that their owners
are generous donors
who stuffed my campaign’s Super-PAC
(Refrain)
The intrusion by Soviet hacks
to manipulate votes that were cast
was nothing but rumor,
a scheming maneuver,
pioneered by irate Democrats
(Refrain)
Shut up with the yakkity-yaks
about showing returns from my tax
The public and press
couldn’t care any less
so forget it, that’s all in the past
(Refrain)
Bowling Green coverage was lax,
but now that we’ve issued the facts
the Circuit Court Judge
who wouldn’t be budged
will be bringing my Muslim ban back
(Refrain)
Vetting in the aftermath,
based on dozens of terrorist acts,
will bar Yemen and Syria,
Somalia and Libya,
Sudan and Iran and Iraq
(Refrain)
I’ll repeal the ObamaCare Act
toss that nonsense into the trash
The poor and oppressed
will have open access
to the privatized plan we’ll enact
(Refrain)
The Mexican Wall is on track
and they’ll pay for it all, so relax
An astute business man,
I have things well in hand
Under sanctions, Nieto will crack
(Refrain)
Ignore all the Standing Rock whacks
set on blocking the pipeline contract
Army Corps engineers
say there’s nothing to fear
There’ll be no ecologic impact
(Refrain)
And by the way,
Ivanka did not get the axe
At Nordstrom’s, she’s selling like crack
So don’t wait to peruse
her fine jewelry and shoes;
they’re flying right off of the racks!
(Refrain)
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This week on JustJoan42, we welcome our old friend, the LIMERICK.
A limerick is a five-line form with a waltzing beat that often involves bawdy humor. The first, second, and fifth lines contain seven to ten syllables, rhyme with each other, and conform to the same rhythmic pattern. The third and fourth lines are shorter, rhyme with each other, and have the same rhythm. Perhaps the most famous one begins this way: “There once was a man from Nantucket…” Google it if you’re unfamiliar. WARNING: this poem is political. Believers in alternative facts may wish to put their fingers in their ears and hum until it’s over.
OPEN LETTER TO THE SENATE
I’m sure Bernie didn’t envision
his campaign would end in recision
His bump from the race
left us in a bad place:
Trump or Clinton, a dismal decision
I held out until the last minute
amid warnings Donald might win it
The odds seemed remote
but I cast my blue vote
To be honest, my heart wasn’t in it
I paled as Ohio turned red,
fighting panic as westward it spread
I threw up a prayer
for the country’s welfare
and uneasily tossed in my bed
I woke the next morning unrested
Seems popular vote had been bested
Why do we acknowledge
the electoral college?
Red’s so-called win hotly contested
Despite opposition’s outrage,
the U.S. became Donald’s stage
Teamed up with Bannon,
another loose cannon,
he’s gone on a reckless rampage
His cronies warm cabinet seats
Detractors are out on the streets
He pokes other nations
and threatens relations
with his inappropriate Tweets
Senators, please take a stand
and impeach this tyrannical man!
Before it’s too late,
pry our nuclear fate
from the grasp of his miniscule hands
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