Friday, July 18, 2008

Dancin´ and singin´ and movin´ to the groovin´

Wherein I had another one but I can't remember what it was Also I've tried to come up with new campaign songs for Obama and McCain, using good music and making it nonsnarky So far, no luck For example, I want to use Song For The Dumped to describe the split between the Obama and Clinton camps

At Simply Skimming, one election them song was presented. It's ok, I guess it's reflective of the candidates and their ever shifting stance on issues. The song I'd like to recommend for an election theme song is more about what the electorate is looking for:

Tell Me Lies (mp3); Prudence Johnson and Gary Rue, from their PeRu album

Now another selection from Mark Helprin's Memoir From Antproof Case
She wanted me to be president. "Of what?" I inquired.

"The United States."

"Me?" I asked silently, my lips moving and my thum pointing at my solar plexus.

"Yes," she said, and went on in one of her semirhythmic fusillades. "You're a good speaker. You're totally honest. You're an experienced analyst of international politics. You have a fairly good knowledge of economics. You're a war hero. You're handsome. You were born in the United States, and now you count your dollars by the billion. Why not?"

"But Constance..."

"You went to harvard, like the Roosevelts and the Adamses, and Wall Street would back you, even though you would be a hypnotic populist."

"But Constance..."

"You could start with the Senate. I'll buy a few strategic newspapers and back you editorially. You have such a will to fight! What a marvelous idea! I hadn't thought of it!"



"I could never be president, even if I wanted to be."

"Of course you can, if you want to be."



"Because I'm a convicted murderer who grew up in an insane asylum, that's why."

As she thought about this, I could see that she was sifting through encyclopedias of history. "I don't think it would be an impediment, dear, do you?"

Despite her historical analysis, I did. Besides, deep in my heart I really did not want to be president of the United States. If you pay a certain amount that varies according to his political fortunes, you get to stand next to the president and have your picture taken, and he has to smile. The only other being that I have known who is paid to stand next to you as your picture is taken was a chimpanzee on the Boardwalk at Coney Island. His name was Tony, and he smiled only if he like you. Unfortunately, he liked me. I was twelve years old, and he must have thought I was a girl, because he kissed me on the lips. It was my first kiss....


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