№ 756: Nancy And Donnie (a love duet) + 1 more

COMING DETRACTIONS (December 25)


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(with apologies to Tom Jones and Harvey Schmidt)

NANCY: Well. . .
DONNIE: Well. . .
NANCY: Impeach.
DONNIE: Impeach?
NANCY: You're not beyond my reach.
DONNIE: You know what Mitch'll do.
NANCY: We will see.
DONNIE: I say, “Screw you.”

NANCY Donnie?
DONNIE: Yes, “dear”?
NANCY: I have never seen a man. . .
DONNIE: A man?
NANCY: . . .so low.
DONNIE: That so?
NANCY: It's true. You're as low any man can go.
I have never seen a single man, I mean,
with zero moral sense.
DONNIE: If you want morals, you'll get Mike Pence.

NANCY: Impeach.
DONNIE: You screech.
NANCY: Chuck will put up a fight.
DONNIE: I've got my own Jews, too.
NANCY: Rot in hell.
DONNIE: The same to you.

NANCY: Donnie?
DONNIE: Yes, “dear”?
NANCY: Have you ever had a thought. . .
DONNIE: A thought?
NANCY: . . .that's pure?
DONNIE: I'm not sure.
NANCY: What a boor. Are you really rotten to the core?
Have you ever done a single thing, I mean,
not totally uncouth?
DONNIE: Well. . .I may have done so once. In my youth.

NANCY: Convict.
DONNIE: You're licked.
NANCY: Convict.
DONNIE: You're licked.
NANCY: The Senate will evict.
DONNIE: With Mitch there's not a chance.
NANCY: We will see.
DONNIE: There's not a chance.
NANCY: We will see.
DONNIE: Four more years.
NANCY: We will see.
DONNIE: Go wet your pants. . .


           *    *    *      ¯\_{ºº}_/¯      *    *    *

TRUMPING AT WINDMILLS

THE SKY IS FALLING (December 25)

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(with apologies to Burton Lane and E. Y. Harburg)

I look into a perfect sky
and guess what catch-es my eye
it's enough to make me cry
a Goddamned wind turbine
that darkens my skies
those Goddamned wind turbines hurt my eyes

Germans and Chinks 
want you to think
they got a “handle”
“Clean energy”!
but believe me. . .
can't hold a candle
to good old clean coal

It's just a Chink conspiracy
aimed at killing birds you see,
but Xi, he can't fool a guy like me
You may think that I whine
that my mind's in decline
but Goddamned wind turbines hurt my eyes

Let me just say 
I'm not Xi's sap
“Green energy”!
Take it from me. . .
a load of crap

№ 392: Forwards Runs Senescence Until Reveals The Mind

The Trumpublican Party now and forever —

no man-made activities affecting the weather! —

will proclaim always “America First”

come hell (in TIME) or high water 
from glaciers and cloudbursts.

It's only fair to pollute the air

if it results in a profit.

As to the water —

have you seen my daughter? —

I drink Diet Coke. I do not care.

I love the flag

and I love coal.

I have to brag

I'm not growing old.

I LOVE Viagra.

I don't need a soul.

Souls make no sense.

Just look at Pence!

There was NO “COLLUSION”! —

lock her up, lock her up.

Funny name, Mnuchin.

Yo', bro, wassup?

Us billionaires 

are fixed for life.

(Guy looks like that,

with such a hot wife?)

Glad Ryan's retirin'.

You would be, too.

Last thing I need:

a three-percent Jew.

Jared, Ivanka?

I know, I know.

I think they do it

bigly for show.

My Evangelicals?

We'll see, we'll see.

What good is God 

when you're got me?

No. 322: Game, Set, Match?

Guardian: 'We're doomed': Mayer Hillman on the climate reality no one else will dare mention

Global emissions were static in 2016 but the concentration of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere was confirmed as beyond 400 parts per million, the highest level for at least three million years (when sea levels were up to 20m [more than 65 feet] higher than now). Concentrations can only drop if we emit no carbon dioxide whatsoever, says Hillman. “Even if the world went zero-carbon today that would not save us because we’ve gone past the point of no return.”

Drill, baby, drill!

More fossil fuel!

Earth isn't warming,

and coal is cool.

Climate's not changing.

You know it's not!

And if it is?

Some like it hot.

We NEED our pickups,

our grand SUVs.

If this causes hiccups —

fiddle-dee-dee!

We're doing okay.

There isn't a crisis.

Buy oil today.

(Just not from ISIS.)

Build more airports,

more coal-fired plants,

make jobs, make children.

DON'T be a scaredy-pants.

Think: “The world is my oyster.”

THAT will do the trick.

That is unless shellfish
make you feel sick.

The train's left the station

so shut up and drop it.

No point complaining.

It's too late to stop it.

No. 239: Coal Black Magic

The US government’s ongoing assault on organized labor through the 1980s and 1990s meant that the mammoth energy conglomerates that dominated the coal industry were free to open non-union mines with increasing impunity. But mining was still just as rough—replete with injuries, accidents, and black lung deaths.

But part of coal’s legacy in central Appalachia is that, as with their economic opportunities, individuals often don’t have much control over whether they are healthy or not. Between drugs, poverty, social isolation, and lack of educational opportunities, there is any number of hazards that can derail, or even end, a person’s life. With so many possible pitfalls, it’s difficult to avoid encountering some.

It’s probably no coincidence that coal-mining towns emerged in the 1990s as the epicenter of the opioid crisis, says Shannon Monnat, sociology professor at Penn State University. Of course, injuries abound and surgery is common, leading to prescriptions for heavy-duty painkillers. To keep injured miners working—and from claiming disability insurance—some companies had doctors prescribing pain drugs on the job.

— Quartz: The100-year capitalist experiment that keeps Appalachia poor, sick, and stuck on coal

[with apologies to Knowles Shaw who wrote “Bringing In the Sheaves”

Fifth generation miners now are unemployed

because nobody profits from our working down a hole.

When Trump brings coal back and gets us off relief,

we shall die a-coughing, digging out the coal.

Refrain:

Digging out the coal, digging out the coal,

we shall die a-coughing, digging out the coal.
Digging out the coal, digging out the coal,

we shall die a-coughing, digging out the coal.

Never seeing sunshine, two miles underground,

lungs as black as bosses greedy, grasping souls.

The bosses killed our union, so we work dirt cheap,

we shall die a-coughing, digging out the coal.

Refrain

The bosses all rejoice as regulation ceases.

Our safety does not matter, profit is their goal.

Instead of two miles under we'll lay six feet deep,

in our early coffin from digging out the coal.

Refrain

Bonus #1:

Bonus #2:


[corrected: 1/3/2018 9:49pm]