I like to haunt dark-lit, out of the way, obscure places where music is played. Bar and grills, dives, holes in the wall, you name it and I've probably been there or heard about it. I found the dump that Forgotten Bob was playing in purely by accident. It was down a dark alley, with but one dim, bare bulb lighting the doorway with a sign on it that read:
FREETHINKING ADULTS ONLY!
Well that was enough for me! There was a few tables in front of a battered bar with an old lady bartender. Men were sitting at the bar, couples at the tables. The place was dimly lit, save for a small platform at the end of the room. There was a small band tuning up, a bass, drums, keyboard, a guitarist, and an other guitarist at the microphone giving the pitch. He was an older guy, a little weather-beaten. I could tell he'd been playing guitar for a long, long time by the look of his hands; signs of arthritis in his finger joints that had big knots. It took them a log time to tune up, as the guy at the mic kept cussing the others out for not being in tune. Finally, the drummer counted them down and they started. I admit I was surprised to hear what came out; a tight band playing in strict time, with the bass guitar laying down a solid beat. The guy at the mic had a voice that you could tell had been well used, but he sang well enough, and the first song he did was this one - THE TURD IN THE PUNCH BOWL. Well, I liked the performance and the song, so between sets I introduced myself to the band. The only one that spoke was Bob. I asked him what the deal was with the Forgotten Bob business, and he said he used to be heavy into the Punk Rock scene years ago, retired to have a family, and when his eight (!) kids were all grown he decided to try and get back into the business. He couldn't handle the punk scene anymore, and told me there ain't nothin' sadder than a geriatric punk! So he started a band to play whatever they wanted. Rock, Rockabilly, Country, right down the line. He wears his hair really long and piled on top his head. Must take a can or two of hairspray to keep it there because he really moves when he sings! He kept up his chops the whole time he was retired, and he's good!
And that's the low down. Forgotten Bob gave our associate the picture of him we've used, said an artist friend did it for him.
Never before in our history
A convicted felon got the position
Look up grifter in the dictionary
You'll see his picture, no definition
In the crystal punch bowl of our land
Trump's made a plop like a big ol' TURD
Don't know if his actions we can stand
Or if the country can live past his words
Has lots of trouble making up his mind
First his thoughts are down, then they are up
But I think his problem you will find
He's really got no mind to make up
In the crystal punch bowl of our land
Trump bobs and floats like a big ol' TURD
Don't know if his actions we can stand
Or if the country can live past his words
He uses the office to sell his merch
Like bit coin and imported bibles
Perfume that smells like body stench
Books of wisdom that are just libels
In the crystal punch bowl of our land
Trump taints the punch like a big ol' TURD
Don't know if his orders we can stand
Or if the country can live past his words
How in hell did he survive his past?
Well, had plenty of help in that regard
Could've got rid of him in the past
But his party just saved the retard
He was out of office, steeped in limbo
And his party years later saved him again
With his views and mouth still akimbo
Still got elected to office again!
In the crystal punch bowl of our land
Trump fouls the punch like a big ol' TURD
Don't know if his orders we can stand
Or if the country can live past his words
Don't drink none a that there punch!
It tastes like SHIT!
How can we get past the asshole?
How can we get past the asshole?
How can we get past the asshole?
No comments:
Post a Comment