The Power of Govs

THE POWER OF GOVS

Sung to the tune of “The Power of Love” with apologies to Huey Lewis and the News.

The power of govs is an infuriating thing.

Makes little people weep and all governors king.

Changed the nation into panicked, masked fools.

More than that, imposed stupid rules.

Bankrupting some people wherever they be,

abusing power for solidarity.

Makes one go online to try to see the light,

The power of govs will keep you up at night.

No more money; for attention whores– fame.

Can’t open the store, can’t ride a train.

Experts were wrong, and this was sudden and cruel sometimes.

But it’s supposed to save your life.

That’s the power of govs.

First time you feel it it will make you mad.

In time you feel it’s not just a fad.

You won’t be glad baby when you learn

that political vendetta has caused this turn.

No more money; for attention whores– fame.

Can’t open the store, can’t ride a train.

Experts were wrong, and this was sudden and cruel sometimes.

But it’s supposed to save your life.

They say it’s political WAR so it’s fair,

yeah, but you don’t care.

You don’t know what to do. But it’s gotten hold of you

and there are control freaks from above.

You feel the power of govs.

No more money; for attention whores– fame.

Can’t open the store, can’t ride a train.

No social interaction, no assembly allowed.

Of your country, you’re no longer proud.

Feel the power, just feel the power of govs.

That’s the power, that’s the power of govs.

You feel the power of govs, you feel the power of govs…

Where Have All Our Leaders Gone?

WHERE HAVE ALL OUR LEADERS GONE?

Sung to the tune of “Where Have All the Flowers Gone?” with apologies to the estate of Pete Seeger, and Joe Hickerson.

Where have all our leaders gone?

Secretly scheming.

Where have all our leaders gone?

Plotting revenge.

Where have all our leaders gone?

Planting stories, every one.

Can we trust anything?

Can we trust anything?

Where has all the money gone?

Profits and patronage.

Where has all the money gone?

Honor among thieves.

Where has all the money gone?

Stimulus was two seconds of fun.

Aren’t we the guinea pigs?

Aren’t we the guinea pigs?

Where have all the candidates gone?

They’ve stopped campaigning.

Where have all the candidates gone?

They’re attorney-huddling.

Where have all the candidates gone?

No more substance from anyone.

Do we know anything?

Do we know anything?

Where have all our freedoms gone?

Fallen by the wayside.

Where have all our freedoms gone?

We don’t know.

Where have all our freedoms gone?

MORE SURPRISES IN STORE, SO HOLD ON.

ISN’T HISTORY CYCLICAL?

ISN’T HISTORY CYCLICAL?

Pertinent Post

“P” post.

Present pandemic’s politics produced:

  • propaganda
  • president-promotion
  • provisions-portioning predicaments
  • panic
  • profiteering
  • paranoia
  • patronage pigs
  • pissed, persecuted people
  • poseurs
  • puerile politicians (petty power plays)
  • pained physicians
  • problematic prescriptions
  • pressured paramedics
  • pestered practices
  • poor populations
  • plus, predictably:

POPPYCOCK.

Who’s Getting Paid – BONUS POST

WHO’S GETTING PAID

Sung to the tune of “For What It’s Worth” with apologies to Buffalo Springfield.

There’s politics happening here.

The truth is nowhere near.

There’s a propagandist over there.

For what he says, I no longer care.

Isn’t it time we stop, drinking the Kool-Aid?

Everybody look– Who’s getting paid?

There’s been panic spread everywhere.

We’ll be totally oppressed if we don’t grow a pair.

Only the powerful can change their minds.

No apologies for covering their behinds.

Isn’t it time we stop, drinking the Kool-Aid?

Everybody look– Who’s getting paid?

Why haven’t the 60’s been brought to bear?

No one protesting anywhere.

People are too panicked not to obey.

They think they’ll get sick and need a hospital stay.

Isn’t it time we stop, drinking the Kool-Aid?

Everybody look– Who’s getting paid?

We think our freedoms are deep.

But we’re letting them go without a peep.

When anger reaches critical mass

The country will stop this Halloween nonsense and get back to work!

[Never mind the last choruses]

HISTORY WILL UNFOLD AS IT SHOULD.

Quarantineville – BONUS POST

Quarantineville

Sung to the tune of “Margaritaville” from Jimmy Buffett. Apologies to Jimmy Buffett.

Tuning in to Fox

watching the idiot box.

All of those talking heads repetitive as hell.

Trying to get some truth, amid all the political spoof.

What the story is, I really can’t tell.

Wasting away again in Quarantineville,

wondering why all things have come to a halt.

Some people claim that it’s Wuhan to blame,

but I know it’s nobody’s fault.

I know the reason– it’s election season.

Everything’s off and canceled and closed.

Now I have fears

it’s all EXPLOITERS AND PROFITEERS.

I hate to think how we’re all getting hosed.

Wasting away in Quarantineville,

wondering why all things have come to a halt.

Some people claim that it’s Wuhan to blame,

but I think, hell it could be THEIR fault.

Don’t want to pout,

but I can’t work, play or go out.

Might have to put my six-string in hock.

There’s no end in sight

to this horrible blight.

I personally think it’s all a big crock.

Wasting away again in Quarantineville,

wondering why all things have come to a halt.

Some people claim that it’s Wuhan to blame.

And I know it’s THEIR damn fault.

Yes and some people claim that it’s Wuhan to blame.

And I know it’s THEIR damn fault.

The Deeds of My Fathers

The Book of the Week is “The Deeds of My Fathers” by Paul David Pope, published in 2010. In this tome, the author discussed the lives of his father and grandfather. Annoyingly, lines of dialogue were always accompanied by the word, “said.”

In spring 1906, at fifteen years old, the author’s great grandfather, Generoso Papa, traveled from his birthplace in Italy to New York City. His brother-in-law was already living in America. Papa got a job doing hard, manual labor in the construction trades. His dogged diligence and playing well with vendors, contractors, engineers, building inspectors and city managers led to success. Too, contacts with the Mafia helped maximize profits and crush the competition. By the mid-1920’s, he owned one of the largest construction-industry suppliers in the city. However, workaholic that he was, he never saw his wife and two sons. In January 1927, he had a third son– the author’s father.

In 1928, the author’s grandfather purchased Il Progresso, the largest Italian newspaper in the city. In it, he praised Mussolini, raised money for him, and printed Fascist propaganda. In the ensuing years, he became friends with politicians, including New York City mayors Jimmy Walker and Fiorello LaGuardia, and presidents Franklin Roosevelt and Harry Truman. Roy Cohn helped him purchase a radio station.

In the early 1950’s, the author’s father, who called himself Gene Pope, had a falling out with his mother and older brothers. He was crowded out of the family businesses. In 1952, he struck out on his own and acquired what became the National Enquirer with seed money from a Mafia don. He changed its editorial bent. It became like today’s media. Tabloidy.

This was Pope’s philosophy on his publication’s contents: “Crime was the most important ingredient, followed by scandals, disasters and personalities; the more famous people were, the more they were laid low and humiliated.” Sounds like the 2018 midterm-elections attack-ads in America (!) It seems the candidates want more hate. 

Some candidates claim not to know about the attack ads against their opponents. However, a man is known by the company he keeps, and the candidates keep company with the producers of the ads. It would be different if the ads were 100% true.

And now, a parody, sung to the tune of “The Beat Goes On” (apologies to Cher, and the estate of Sonny Bono):

The hate goes on, the hate goes on
Ads keep pounding a message to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da

Woo-oo-dstock was once the rage, uh huh
History has turned the page, uh huh
Facebook, the current thing, uh huh

Twitter is our newborn king, uh huh
And the hate goes on, the hate goes on
Ads keep pounding a message to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da

The Internet’s the new frontier, uh huh
Little minds still inspire fear, uh huh
And leading men still keep assigning blame
Technology lets them stay in the game

And the hate goes on, the hate goes on
Ads keep pounding a message to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da
Voters sit in Starbucks and complain
Politicians scheming just to gain

Negativity flying faster all the time
NRA still cries, we have to arm ourselves against crime!

And the hate goes on, the hate goes on.
Ads keep pounding a message to the brain.
La de da de de, la de da de da.

And the hate goes on, yes, the hate goes on.
And the hate goes on, and the hate goes on.
The hate goes on, and the hate goes on.

It would be refreshing to see a candidate condemn the attack ads against his opponent, instead of tacitly applauding them, or repeating their contents loudly and often… And instead– actually concentrate on the issues– how he or she is going to be a PUBLIC SERVANT.

In future elections, it would be even nicer to see a political-contribution boycott of the hate-mongers. However, it would take more than one influential, courageous donor to stand up and refuse to be a party to purchasing airtime for the purpose of spreading ugly lies.

But it is the candidates who must ultimately decide to take the high road and grow up. Voters might react favorably to the first side to do so. Even so, this would be an extremely difficult feat. “Everybody does it” is the excuse everybody uses to justify their unethical behavior. Everyone is drowning each other out with a blizzard of defamation. So multiple groups on one side would have to agree to run a wrap-around campaign to promise to spread messages based on substance, and follow through.

That said, unfortunately, honesty isn’t always a guarantee of competence for an elected official. President Jimmy Carter wasn’t widely reputed to be a liar. Yet, most Americans agree, he was a terrible president. Assessing a candidate, and predicting election results are like gambling–  difficult to gauge– because human behavior is unpredictable in the short term.

Anyhow, in 1957, the National Enquirer‘s stories sought to satisfy readers’ morbid curiosity by detailing gruesome occurrences in the city. The publication that was initially drowning in a sea of red ink, turned profitable after years and years. By the mid-1960’s, readers were enthralled by poignant, inspirational stories about underdogs who triumphed, medical matters, celebrity gossip and aliens.

In the early 1970’s, Gene moved his publication’s printing presses from New Jersey to Florida. “He worried about his health, claiming air pollution was killing him, even as he continued to smoke four packs a day.”

Gene spared no expenses in getting a story– bribing anyone and everyone associated with stories to get exclusive, salacious information, and sending his reporters on-location– around the corner or around the world. In this way, the Enquirer acquired a reputation as a tabloid that appealed to the lowest common denominator. The highbrow New York Times didn’t pay interviewees, but instead appealed to their egos, generating favorable publicity for them if they talked.

The author wrote that his father developed psychological problems in his later years, and ruled his empire by fear. He had dirt on various people and let them know it, so that way, he could cash in on a favor from them in the future if he so desired. The son lamented, “No doubt I was spoiled by material things, but not by love.” Read the book to learn the details.

God Is My Broker

The Book of the Week is “God Is My Broker” by Brother Ty, with Christopher Buckley and John Tierney.  It is a very funny satire.  The story starts with a man who made sufficient money on “Wall Street” to retire at a young age.  However, a mid-life crisis caused him to try the lifestyle of a Trappist Monk.

While swearing off material possessions at the monastery, “Brother Ty” still had the urge to gamble.  So he let a line of text in a religious tract dictate his course of action in the stock market.   The way Brother Ty interpreted the text turned out to be contrarian to most other traders’ advice and actions, but turned out to be extremely lucrative for him.

The humor of this book emerges when the monastery and the monastery’s abbot are revealed to be just as dishonest as Wall Street.   The monastery raised money through selling wine that was falsely advertised, and the abbot built himself an entertainment center with the ill-gotten gains. Read the book to vicariously experience the hilarity that ensues.