Thursday, November 01, 2012

In Response To The "Sad Children" Political Video

You kids are sad about the future
And so you sang a song
Blaming us, your own parents
For all you say's gone wrong.

Well we're sorry you're such losers
We tried to make you strong.
Never let you freeze to death (or miss a meal)
And made you feel like you belong.

Beggars can't be choosers,
Looks like politicans hit the bong
But we did our best, you ungrateful wretch
So don't go blame us in a song.

Chorus: We are the parents of the present/we did the best we knew/but all our hard effort, you just resent/so no more election-time TV for you!

     (Original was still playable here at last check. They've taken it private on YouTube.  Didn't work as planned, ey?)


Fuzzy Curmudgeon said...

Well played.

Joe in PNG said...

Hey kids! When you get old enough to analyze economics, sociology, statistics, and history and come up with your own conclusions presented in a logical, rational form- not just parroting what your teachers and parents told you to say- then I'll start paying attention to your opinions.

jbrock said...

Oh, they've got songs, do they?

Here's a little Dylan filk I cranked out on one particularly misanthropic evening. There's a fair amount of it I don't truly believe (for starters, I've got a few of the referenced 'weird plastic guns' myownself) but some folks of generally left-authoritarian political persuasion--especially from my nominal generation--have priceless reactions when they hear the thing. That makes it worth the momentary exercise in hypocrisy.


There was one way to deal with the old Empire's ills.
No deus ex machina, no magic pills:
when the kings of the East came collecting their bills
and it's you they said had to be payin',
you just had to say [bleep] it and head for the hills.
Now the times, they are a-changin'.

Come all of you boomers so newly for hire.
Plead your case to the few you remembered to sire
where you probably thought you had come to retire,
but now all of your stocks and your savin's,
they won't even fuel a half decent fire,
for the times, they are a-changin'.

Come all of you formerly suburban [expletive]s,
you practitioners of arcane book-cooking tricks
and kiddy-league soccer cutthroat politics:
If it's shelter and food that you're cravin',
start by feigning non-hatred for a few of us hicks,
for the times, they are a-changin'.

Come all of you city folk, face a few facts:
The grid is down hard and it ain't coming back,
and your cannibal neighbors are running in packs.
This could be a good time to start prayin'.
You'll be long pig for sure if you're not making tracks,
for the times, they are a-changin'.

Come all of you goons with your weird plastic guns,
in search of your own little kingdom to run.
Maybe back in your old 'hood that's how it was done,
but that ain't the game that we're playin'.
Hope a face full of buckshot's your idea of fun,
For the times, they are a-changin'.

There was one way to deal ... et cetera.