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Al Things Considered: A Kind of Carol

“Out in the Restaurant” (to the tune “Up On The Housetop”)

Out in the restaurant while they dine
Is that your cell phone or mine?
They don’t care who they annoy
With their wireless digital toy
Hoo Hoo Hoo!
Ain’t got a clue!
Hey hey hey!
Put that away!
Out at the movies
Beep, beep, beep
Oh what an inconsiderate creep

“9W” (“Silver Bells”)

City sidewalk, busy sidewalk
Used to be quite the place
‘Til the city came in with bulldozers
Crooked walkways, soaring treetops
And bohemian grace
Traded in for a drab quarter mile

chorus:
W
9W
Once it was something called Lark Street
Tiny trees,
Tenants flee
More bleak now than downtown Troy.

“Slate of Candidates is Nigh” (“Angels We Have Heard On High”)

Slate of candidates is nigh
Vote for them? You must be high!
Next year’s choices have us vexed
Each one creepier than the next.

chorus:
De-e-e-e-emocrats, haven’t got a clue-oh
De-e-e-e-emocrats, haven’t got a clue oo-oh

GOP is jubilant

That’s one happy elephant
But can’t bring myself to push
That lever that says “George Bush”

chorus:
De-e-e-e-emocrats, haven’t got a clue-oh
De-e-e-e-emocrats, they themselves will screw-ooo-oh

“You’re History” (“O Holy Night”)

Anna Nicole, your star’s no longer shining
It’s the demise of those dopes on TV
Long lay the world in Paris Hilton pining
But in a month she’ll be 2003
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
For yonder falls the star of Dr. Phil
Fab-ulous Five! Oh, Clay and Kelly Clarkson!
Yo Ryan Seacrest! O Jessica, and Rubin too!
Ryan, Trista! Next year, you’re history!

“Auld Lang Trayn” (“Auld Lang Syne”)

Should high-speed travel be forgot
‘Twould really be a pity
Continuing to lurch and crawl
‘Tween here and the big city
We’ll take the crummy bus, my dear
Or costly aeroplane
We’ll wait for you, three hours late
Because you took the train.

“Have Yourself a Merry Code Orange Christmas” (“Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”)

Have yourself a merry Code Orange Christmas
Let your heart be light
Huddle in your shelter
And stay out of sight
Have yourself a merry Code Orange Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
Knowing evildoers
Are just miles away
How we yearn for the olden days
Happy golden days of yore
Pissed-off knaves out to show us up
Want to blow us up once more
Still the White House tells us not to worry
Act like nothing’s wrong
Not a damned thing that you can do anyhow
So have yourself a merry Code Orange Christmas now.

—Al Quaglieri

 


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