Having reached the age predicted in my youth by the prognosticating spirit of a Ouija board, I realize that the spirit lied and that there is still more time allotted to me on this earth, and I will be able to gather many tidbits of trivial information before I depart for whatever lies in the great beyond. This is a comfort, as I have never found, in all my lifelong absorption of factoids, anything that might offer a rational clue as to why human life in general (and mine in particular) has some actual cosmic purpose other than to engage in, on some level or another, anything that isn’t a variation of self-directed navel-gazing. 

  So, I know I still have a long way to go. At least I think I do, but if not, at least I’ll know my mission in life is complete. 

  And what more could anyone ask for?

Still a Long Way to Go

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  • Song of the American Dinosaur

     

    Let me tell you a tale ’bout my shiny car;
    how I drove it fast, and I drove it far,
    while I take you drinkin’ at a swanky bar,
    ’cause my auto just ups my star.
    My star, my star,
    my star, my star,
    Let’s face it: I’m way ’bove par.

     

    And you just gotta see where I’m livin’ now,
    where the maid works cheap, and the gard’ners bow
    ’cause they all got jobs (though I don’t know how),
    since the border’s been closed for now.
    For now, for now,
    for now, for now.
    Yes, we all feel safe for now.

     

    So, maybe you worry that you might take ill,
    but when I feel bad, I just take a pill.
    And I never frown should I get a chill,
    long as Medicare pays the bill.
    The bill, the bill,
    the bill, the bill,
    And the uninsured make out wills.

     

    O’ the planet’s been heatin’ up awful quick,
    and the CO2’s getting’ scary thick,
    but, the talk show hosts say that it’s all a trick.
    True or false? You can take your pick.
    Your pick, your pick,
    your pick , your pick,
    Long as taxes don’t rise a lick.

     

    Now, it’s time we started feelin’ once more great,
    when the gals were sweet and the men all straight,
    and we were happy ’cause we knew our fate
    was for us to overfill our plate.
    Our plate, our plate,
    our plate, our plate,
    and let everyone celebrate.

     

    Yes, celebrate,
    o’ celebrate,
    ’cause everyone pulled their weight.
    Oh, yeah,
         and there weren’t slackers at the gate.
    Oh, yeah,
         and everybody could relate
    Oh, yeah,
         to those who didn’t come here late
    Oh, yeah,
         and all the rest will have to wait
    Oh, yeah,
         to be accepted by the state
    Oh, yeah,
         and never with us whites debate,
    Oh, yeah,
         ’bout correcting our historic slate.
    Oh, yeah,
         For Jesus made this nation great,
    Oh, yeah,
         which all your rhet’ric can’t negate,
    Oh, yeah.

     

    So, if you try to immigrate,
    and foreign ways initiate,
    and with our women copulate,
    and make your race a hyphenate,
    then justice don’t anticipate,

     

    ’cause this country’s gonna work once more.
    Once more, once more,
    once more, once more,
    this is Paradise if you’re a whore.