Such unwelcome songs

By David Glenn Cox

For a reason known only to the higher powers of the universe, a man who has never flown on a commercial aircraft in his life is targeting the airline industry.

“You sit there and wait for hours and then you get a message saying the plane is not going to take off and they have no idea when it is going to take off. Ticket prices have tripled. They don’t have the pilots to fly the planes, they aren’t looking for qualified air traffic controllers and they just don’t know what the hell they are doing.”

Now if we deconstruct: Does any of this make any sense? I don’t know. Maybe the weather? I’m right there with them. If they feel it’s not safe to fly their hundred-million dollar plane because of the weather, I remember Buddy Holly and defer to their better judgment. “Ticket prices have tripled,” since when, Grandpa? I bet you remember getting on a DC-3 for 75 cents and bringing your own watermelon. But this is all just meaningless Trump bullshit when he snatches it out of the air and spits it at the moron herd.

Blah, blah, blah, four out of five dentists recommend Crest! And then there was the time Godzilla attacked Tokyo. If you vote for me, I’ll put a stop to it!

“Never again will mothers be forced to watch their children overdose in the hospital… and never again will we allow mothers to watch their child dying hopelessly in their arms, screaming, ‘What can I do, what can I do? Help me, God, what can I do?’”

And what exactly is Trump going to do about drug overdoses? He’s going to kill them! That’s right, any drug dealer responsible for 500 or more deaths will lose his life. Does that apply to the Sacklers too? No, I thought so. But I wonder how we’re supposed to count deaths per drug dealer?

“We are a nation whose once revered airports are a dirty, overcrowded mess,” The Alamo will be revered, and the Battleship Arizona Memorial will be revered. The Dalai Lama will be revered, and the Pope will be revered. The airport will be there for admiration. Donald Trump will be teaching a class at Idiot School. He can say anything, really anything. And the chimps will all be chattering excitedly and kneeling down. This is the greatest day since the monster truck rally came to town!

“I’ll make the birds fly backwards! Popcorn will be free in the movies! Butter too! I’ll get rid of traffic congestion. Gasoline will only cost a penny a gallon! I’ll cure the common cold! Did you hear that, Jethro? Popcorn and butter will be free too!”

I can’t think of a more appropriate term than “idiot school.” The mob doesn’t care what Trump says because they won’t remember it tomorrow anyway. Notice that Trump only runs against issues and responds with obscure, non-specific, non-budgeted plans that never get implemented. I’ll kill all the drug dealers! Sure! Just watch out! I’ll make sure the planes leave on time!

Harry Truman warned us that Hitler and Tojo may be gone, but the ideas they inspired are still there. The simple trick to get a fool. “Put me in charge for a while, and I’ll make everything better and more wonderful for you, and all you have to do is just trust me.”

Repeat, repeat, repeat! Tell them how unhappy they are! Tell them the world is terrible because of… them. They kill your mothers and rape your daughters and only I care. (Willie Horton with sombrero) Only, I am ready to do something about it! The other side supports them! They kill babies even after birth! They buy a new car for every migrant who enters this country illegally! (electric, of course)

We are in a time of economic uncertainty for the former middle class. Years ago, I lived in beautiful homes that I bought with my paycheck. Today, home ownership is just a wild fantasy. Sure, Joe Biden has lowered the price of prescription drugs and student loans. But what about the other hundred and fifty million Americans? It’s not that Joe and the Democrats aren’t trying to do good. But they’re not reaching people.

How can student loans and prescription drugs compete with candy and free cigarettes? Joe Biden can only promise the possible, while Donald Trump can promise them anything. And they will believe it unconditionally because they have been well trained to believe.

This makes the poor New York Times’ situation seem even worse. Okay! From now on, our business model is to be just like everyone else. We’ll look like everyone else and talk just like them! That way, we’ll make tons of money for our investors. Because if readers everywhere are served the same crap, they’re bound to choose us. They didn’t buy the New York Times to make money.

You get a few tens of billions of dollars in your pocket and suddenly the value of money has no meaning. You buy a mansion only to tear it down and build a bigger one. If it were the wrong color. You buy a newspaper that disrupts the idiot school because the use of chloroform is illegal. This is creeping fascism!

“I hate songs that make you think you’re worthless. I hate songs that make you think you were born to lose. Doomed to lose. You carry no one. You carry nothing. Because you’re too old or too young or too fat or too thin or too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that put you down or ridicule you for your bad luck or your difficult journey. I will fight those songs to my last breath and my last drop of blood. I will sing songs that prove to you that this is your world, and when it’s hit you pretty hard and knocked you off your feet, no matter what color or size or stature you are, I will sing songs that make you proud of yourself and your work. And the songs I sing are mostly made up by all kinds of people who are pretty much like you. I could sign on to the other side, the big money side, and make a few dollars a week just to stop singing my own songs and start singing songs that are even more depressing, that are even more silly, that make you feel like you have no sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I would rather starve than sing songs like that. The airwaves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already crammed and overflowing with such inferior songs as that.” – Woody Guthrie