September 04, 2009

And now, a word from Van Jones

With apologies to William Jonathan Drayton Jr. and Carlton Ridenhour

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1600's a Joke
(To the tune of "911 Is a Joke" by Public Enemy, which you can listen to here
)

Hit me!

Goin', goin', gone!

Now, I got hired by Barry a few months ago
Doncha see how shifty he's actin'?
He only says somethin' true when he wanna
His act is stale, gettin' old like Madonna
He don't care 'cause he stays Prez anyway
And what he said before, it don't apply today
He gets in trouble, the bus starts creepin'
When his ass is on the line, someone else will pay

Right-wingers with those quotes I was spoutin'
It's a burnin' cross in disguise, y'all, I'll betcha
I call Glenn Beck a cracker 'cause his face is crackin'
Stop blubberin', fat boy, didn't mean to upset ya
He's the king of the swift condemnation
Hates my guts, and he's tellin' all the nation
Thinks it's gonna lead to my humiliation
It all adds up to a f***ed-up situation

So get up, a-get-get-get down
1600, watch it get clowned
Get up, a-get-get-get down
Barack Obama's wearin' a frown

[Repeat chorus]

1600's a joke
1600's a joke

I'm a commie, so I don't get no respect
You'd think the hammer and the sickle don't intersect
Karl Marx, you know that dude was Number 1
Even though he was so pale, never saw the sun
No sunblock, just the Eastern Bloc and
Hatin' capitalists, tried to kick their jock in
I need to be in the White House schemin'
Care about your liberty? Man, just keep dreamin'

I call ya racist 'cause the race card's quicker
Than goin' back and forth, you white folks like to bicker
The reason why I say that is you always whine and plead
Workin' on my nerves until I'm just like, "Cracka, please!"
Hey Chairman Mao, we need ya now
Why buy the milk when you can nationalize the cow?
You better wake up and smell the state vodka
Treat Van Jones with respect, you cockblocka!

[Repeat chorus while they figure out what to tell Robert Gibbs to say]

Owww!
Owww!
Owww!
Vanny J say owww!
Owww!
Owww!
Owww!

1600's a joke
1600's a joke
1600's a joke
1600's a joke

Posted by Jim Treacher at 06:10 PM

August 18, 2009

Metal bones beneath a living shell

(With apologies to John, Paul, George, and the other one)

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Michelle

Michelle, that smell
Indicates you like to lift barbells
Push-ups as well

Michelle, it's swell
You're more like monsieur than mademoiselle
Yes, we can tell

You're scary, you're scary, you're scary
That's all I want to say
Until you go away
I will hide your human growth hormone till you understand

Michelle, do tell
Skynet sent you back here to raise hell
Nice power cell

I need to, I need to, I need to
I need to make you pee
Into this cup for me
I'm telling you, it's steroid use that makes you so mean

I fear you

I want you, I want you, I want you
To release my throat right now
I'll break your grip somehow
Until I do, I'm hanging here from your veiny hand

Michelle, I fell
Stomp my windpipe so I cannot yell
It's my death knell

And I will gasp the only words I know that you'll understand: Go to hell

Posted by Jim Treacher at 02:05 AM

August 15, 2009

Rage to Help the Machine

(With no apologies to Zack de la Rocha, Tom Morello, Tim Commerford, and Brad Wilk)

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Shilling in the Name

[TEDIOUS INSTRUMENTAL INTRO]

Shilling in the name of!

Some of those that dissented wish their rivals relented
Some of those that dissented wish their rivals relented
Some of those that dissented wish their rivals relented
Some of those that dissented wish their rivals relented
Uhhh!

Shilling in the name of!
Shilling in the name of

And now we tell ya to shut up (x 12)

Those who yelled were so compelled, but now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
We now condemn the lot of them, yeah, now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
Those who yelled were so compelled, but now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
We now condemn the lot of them, yeah, now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white

Some of those that dissented wish their rivals relented (x 4)
Huahh!

Shilling in the name of!
Shilling in the name of

And now we tell ya to shut up (x 4)
And now we tell ya to shut up, we're the ones in control (x 7)
And now we tell ya to shut up!

Those who yelled were so compelled, but now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
We now condemn the lot of them, yeah, now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
Those who yelled were so compelled, but now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white
We now condemn the lot of them, yeah, now it's all wrong 'cause the throng is white

Shut up!

[GUITAR SOLO THAT SOUNDS LIKE EVERY OTHER GUITAR SOLO THIS GUY HAS EVER DONE]

Yeah!
Shut up!
Ughh!

Thank you, I will do what he tells me (x 8, gradually becoming a shout)
Thank you, I will do what he tells me! (x 8, shouted)

Gosh, he's handsome!
Uhhnn!

Posted by Jim Treacher at 01:40 PM

August 12, 2009

SMARTEST PRESIDENT EVAR

"I, I recognize, though, you make a legitimate, you raise a legitimate concern. People say, 'Well, how can a private company compete against the government?' If you, if you think about it, uh... y'know, UPS and FedEx are doin' just fine. Right? Th-the, uh... No, they are. I mean, it's, it's the Post Office that's always havin' problems."


(With apologies to The Marvelettes (listen along here) and anyone who is currently experiencing a serious illness)

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Please Mr. Postman (ObamaCare Remix)

Oh yes, wait a minute, Mr. Postman
Way-ay-ay-ait, Mr. Postman

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
If I qualify for surgery
I've been waiting a mighty long time
Just to hear from that doctor of mine

There must be some word today
About my much-needed hospital stay
Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
What are my chances of mortality?

I've been standing here waiting, Mr. Postman
So-oh-oh unhealthy
For just a word from my physician
Saying he'll be getting 'round to me

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
If it's a gurney or a hearse for me
I'd like to ask, if you really don't mind
For just a minute of a specialist's time

So many days you passed me by
If I don't get help soon, I'll probably die
You wouldn't stop to make me feel better
I've got worse health care than an Irish Setter

Please, Mr. Postman, look and see
What are my chances, oh yeah, of recovery?
You know, it's been so long
Yeah, since I heard 'bout those lab tests of mine

You better wait a minute, wait a minute
Whoa, you better wait a minute
Please, please, Mr. Postman
Please check it and see, am I a casualty?

You better wait, wait a minute
Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute
Please, Mr. Postman
It's not just a rumor, please look at this tumor

[slow fade while descending into the grave]

P.S. I'm starting a new group: Combating Republican Astroturfing Progressively. Getting nervous about my sales pitch to Axelrod & Soros.

P.P.S. Previous entries in the Obama Songbook here and here.

P.P.P.S. And of course, the "Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" is provided by Arlen Specter.

Posted by Jim Treacher at 05:11 AM

July 30, 2009

Just a little tune Obama wrote for tonight's Racial Healing Beerup

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Ebony and ivory
Drinkin' liquor in perfect harmony
Side by side in my photo op
Crank and cop
Now stop pickin' on me

We all know
That people hate the cops wherever you go
There is good in them
But mostly bad
When we learn to yell
We learn to tell each other how the whites all hate blacks
Regardless of facts

[Repeat until all the white folks shut up]

Posted by Jim Treacher at 12:18 PM

July 25, 2009

F*** Tha Police (Oval Office Remix)

With apologies to O'Shea Jackson, Andre Young, Eric Wright, Lorenzo Patterson, and Antoine Carraby

This is what happens to black men in America.

F*** tha police, comin' straight from the podium
Young n**** got it bad 'cause I'm dumb
And not intelligent, so cops and press think
They have the priority to buck my authority

F*** that s***, 'cause I ain't the dad
For a punk Jake Tapper with a pen and a pad
To be sweatin' me 'til crack of doom
We can go toe-to-toe in the middle of the press room

F***in' with me 'cause I'm a world leader
Who's a damn good teleprompter-reader
Searchin' my words, lookin' for an error
Doin' me like Bin Laden in the "War on Terror" (sic)

You'd rather see me in the Senate
Than me as the top gun, pimpin' Air Force One
I stretch the truth all outta shape
And when I'm finished, all the facts get raped
Like Jodie Foster in The Accused
Everything's a crisis and it's gonna get used

I don't know if I'm black or white
When a thing is wrong, I say that it's right
And on the other hand, without a script I can't get none
I strike out when I wanna hit a home run
Try to ad lib and I always let the mask drop
Black president prejudgin' a white cop

Big O will swarm
On any U.S. citizen who's in uniform
Just 'cause I am the CIC
Troops and cops are afraid of me, huh

A young n**** on the warpath
And when I'm finished, there's gonna be a new math
Two plus two equals five, I say
Now all you crackas get outta my way

F*** tha police
F*** tha police
F*** tha police
F*** tha police

P.S. Why is The Man always tryin' to tell a brother what to do?

Posted by Jim Treacher at 12:50 PM