by Roger White
With a tip of the hat to a master chronicler of the American age, it must be noted that Bob Dylan never lived in a 3/2/2 with central heat/air and two and a half mortgages during a time when, by all appearances, our society is on the verge of utter decay—all viewable with the click of a mouse or touch of a pad.
So I give you “Suburban Worldsick Blues.”
Perry’s in the Capitol, railin’ against abortion,
I’m lookin’ at my taxes thinkin’ it’s extortion,
The man in the trench coat shootin’ up the school halls
Says he got bullied so everybody must fall.
Look out, dad, the economy is bad,
God knows what we did, but the country’s on the skids.
You better duck down, turn page, watch out for road rage,
Another mass s
hooting, another senseless rampage,
Sterling’s on his cell phone reminiscin’ ’bout slavery,
Miley’s twerkin’ onstage, scandalous behavery.
Look out, mom, Gotta stay calm,
Soldiers in Kabul dodging roadside bombs.
Get sick, get well, they’re laying off again at Dell,
Are we winnin’ whatever war, it’s gettin’ kinda hard to tell,
Presiden
t says our healthcare system’s unfit,
All Congress says is where’s your birth certificate?
Well, Hormel, GM organizin’ recalls,
Bad meat, bad brakes, pickets down at town hall,
Daughter’s college fees call for medical sedation,
Building border walls to stifle immigration.
Look out, pop, no tellin’ where it stops,
Younger daughter’s boyfriend working at a head shop.
Mortgage underwater, excess beer consumption,
Viagra wants to help with that erectile dysfunction,
The facto
ry just made a Chapter 11 declaration,
School board says it’s gonna teach divine creation.
Text tweet online, your selfie looking so fine,
Kids in Bosnia steppin’ on old land mines.
Icebergs meltin’, droughts killin’ all the wheat,
Just global warmin’ lies of the liberal elite.
Well, get dressed, get stressed, face the day’s traffic mess,
Oops, your job’s just been outsourced to Bangladesh.
Don’t follow leaders, take pills for all the cedars,
Find yourself a new position as a Walmart greeter.
Look out, mama, you’re dyin’ from the trauma,
Increase yer Prozac dosage, tune in the dalai lama.
Well, jump down a manhole, filibuster gun control,
Think I saw a shadow up there beyond the grassy knoll,
Headin’ to the car, another day in the loony ward,
Shakin’ yer head ’cause the vandals keyed yer new Ford.
Roger White is a freelance writer living in Austin, Texas, with his lovely wife, two precocious daughters, a very fat dachshund, and a self-absorbed cat. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com.
oldspouse 
Ya Wanted More Fernie, Ya Got More Fernie
24 Aprby Roger White
Well, gang, it seems that the literary stylings of my old compadre Dr. Archie Ferndoodle have truly struck a chord with many of you. Since the appearance of Sir Archie’s poetic elucidations in a recent episode of “This Old Mouse,” the Oldblouse
offices have been inundated with a letter heaping praise on the feckless Fernman and further beseeching the master muse for more obtuse observations. Well, who am I to deny my faithful the mental goosefeather that so tickles their collective ulnas?
You surely know this by now, but the Doodle Doctor insists I preface his epistles with the following: The esteemed Dr. Ferndoodle holds an associate’s degree in postmodern comparative limerick studies from the University of Southern Panama’s Correspon — oh, to hell with it. If you really want to view the good doctor’s curriculum vitalis, write me, and I’ll send you a mimeographed copy.
Sir Archie, in his own peculiar patois, has taken several classic tunes from the songbook of popular culture and rendered them as his own, with his edgy, pointy-like lyrics so pertinent to today’s roiling rambunctious rutabaga world.
Disclaimer: The Spouseman—and the newspaper/periodical/bathroom wall compendium in which this diatribe appears—doesn’t necessarily agree with the views and opinions of Sir Archie. He is his own creature, and we bear no responsibility or legal burden for his verbal effluence.
Taking that into account, I give you Archie’s first offering, called “Healthcare for Millennials.” Keep in mind, you have to know the popular tune to latch these lyrics onto or none of this makes any sense whateverso. But if you’ve made it this far, sense is something you know is a rare commodity in this time/space.
Healthcare for Millennials
(to the tune of “Teach Your Children Well” by Crosby, Still, Nash, and Young)
(verse 1)
“You under twenty-one,
Will be under the gun to pay for healthcare,
By the time you reach my age,
(chorus)
“So keep your bodies well,
’Cause you’ll pay like hell to see the surgeon,
Think hard about having kids,
You’ll be on the skids, better stay a virgin.”
“No use in asking why, it’ll cost less to simply die,
Better yet you just might tryyyyyyy….
To move to Canada.”
Huzzah, Archster, well done. For his second favoring, the Fernman has rendered a little ditty he calls “Little Trumpy,” regarding the precarious existence of PBS and shows such as “Sesame Street” under the current regime:
Little Trumpy
(to the tune of Sesame Street’s “Rubber Ducky” )
(verse 1)
“Little Trumpy, you’re the dude
Who sent PBS down the tubes,
Because of Trumpy we are all royally screwed.”
(verse 2)
“Oscar lost the lease to his can,
Elmo’s turning tricks in Japan,
Little Trumpy, I’m not very fond of you.”
(chorus/bridge)
“Oh, every day when I see Big Bird in the gutter,
What a motherlubber.”
(verse 3)
“Cookie Monster OD’d on crack,
Miss Piggy’s somewhere dealing blackjack,
Oh, Little Trumpy, life’s really the pits now,
Oh, Little Trumpy, me and Bert called it quits, and how,
Little Trumpy, it looks like I’m shackin’ with you.”
Bray-vo, bray-vo. And lastly, Ferndude gives us his take on the ramifications of oilman Rex Tillerson taking over as top guy at the US State Department:
Rex Will Survive
(to the tune of Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive”)
“At first I was afraid, I was petrified,
Kept thinkin’ my ties to Russian oil I could never hide,
Friends said, Rex, why take this job, it’s a massive pay cut,
To be Trump’s head of state, you must be some kind of nut,”
“But here I am, from Wichita Falls,
Make way for ol’ Tillerson, ’cause I got some big ol’ b*lls,
I’ll go easy on the Reds,
But North Koreans I will kill,
I got a tiger in my tank, my Exxon stock’s worth 100 mill,”
“Yes, Putin and I, we will survive,
Just don’t look too darn deep in KGB archives,
We’ve got such friendly ties, so don’t you be surprised,
When Moscow becomes home to the next Exxon franchise,
Hey, hey!”
Sir Archie Ferndoodle’s classics include “Oh, Staff Sergeant, My Staff Sergeant!,” “Why Is the Man Always from Nantucket?,” and perhaps his greatest epic, “The Squirrels Stopped Talking to Me Today,” Roger White is a Ferndoodle protégé or else owes him big time. For further adventures, visit oldspouse.wordpress.com.
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