Everyone has been asking,"Victrola, when are you going to blog?", "Victrola, what ever made you write these songs?" Well, after the stolen election of 2000 in Florida, I became quite concerned about the rise of American fascism. After the stolen election of 2004, I decided I'd better try to do something about rigged elections.
The truth is unforgiving and the more I learned the more alarmed I became. It is all enough to make you speechless—shocked and awed. I thus worked very hard to depose King George II in 2004 but was fooled by Bluedog Neocon duhmocrats—again.
My experience as an investigator, election auditor, activist, was an education in how empires crumble. It was a deep lesson in the anatomy of stolen elections; what wars for world hegemony are really all about; an education in how fascism takes over; an education in how badly the ruling elites want us off the planet. Whether we notice the changes or not, we have all been witnessing our modern empire rot from the top down and inside out. Well, empires often find their own demise in catastrophic events, like what we find ourselves in now, as in what Naomi Klein so eloquently calls "Disaster Capitalism."
How best to put into words what I see? Victrola does it best with a song. I see the rapid demise of humanity nearing completion. I see the world being run by the stupid and incompetent. I see the third generation of DuhmDown, now seemingly helpless before a brutal regime that has looted our treasury and sent our children off to the slaughter. I see women and children of every culture being denied emancipation, an education, denied the right to achieve their human potential; to participate in the global human renaissance because of stupid patriarchy, stupid cultural expectations, stupid religion, stupid rules, stupid government. I see Duhmocracy unfolding before my eyes.
Victrola asks herself, "Hey, is there any way we can LAUGH these guys out of office? YES!! Laugh out loud! Laugh hard! Laugh often! It works like magic!
Since you asked, here are the stories behind the songs on Duhmocracy:
1) You Want Me to Be Yer Mom:
Let's not begin with politics. Let's start with LIFE. Being in the marriage aftermarket has it's downside. You could say a mother's work is never done! Just ask the crazy lady on your street. She'll tell you she is a housewife—that is, married to the house. She may have a man living there, she hasn't said, but she will tell you she has four kids. Hmmmmmm... you only counted three, and then there is that 40-something guy with that one strip of hair he combs across that bald spot, the guy with the monster truck and no job.
2) Duhyba:
An irreverent, stumbling-drunk self-portrait of our (p)resident. Back on November 3rd of '04, I lay in bed in the fetal position and refused to move for three weeks. After deciding life was still beautiful and worth living, even though there was the same fascist in the Whitehouse and he stole it, the sun still came up every morning. I had to negotiate with myself on the terms under which I would agree to get out of bed. My muse gave me the key. While curled up in my ball, Duhbya was slowly emerging from the recesses of my subconscious mind and necessarily had to emerge for my reemergence into the world to be complete. Since then, it's just been one fascist day after the next.
3) Another Fascist Day:
Hear the Neocon SS Orchestra. The song remains the same. I was inspired to write this by Dr. Lawrence Britt's "14 Defining Characteristics of Fascism" www.rense.com. The "F" word is OK to use now. It totally applies. Most true scholars would agree. What we have in the Bush Administration is a frightening parallel to the rise of the Third Reich in every aspect. Except for "That Goddamn piece of paper" Bush calls our Constitution, the neocons might be further along with their "business plan." Some aspects might seem subtle now, yes, but just give them any reason to bring on a police state (as another false flag attack like 9/11 which, hypothetically, subsequently cancels the election of '08) and all the ducks are in place for one to come about. It is obvious there is no longer rule-of-law in America while nothing is being done to reverse the subversion of the law by a government-gone-wild. DuhmocRats don't seem to care. As an unrepentant news junkie, I have been observing the fascist creep of an exceedingly secretive administration dramatically and methodically dismantling our Constitution and Bill of Rights, while over-reaching corporate power has our courts and congress in a stranglehold. I am unabashedly connecting the dots, calling this what it is—fascism, AND reducing it into the simplest terms for the benefit of the blissfully uninformed and willfully ignorant. For everyone else it is funny, so you won't cry!
4) Blame the Cows:
I am completely repulsed by hate wingnut radio. The first time I ever actually heard slanthead Rush Limbaugh, he was bloviating about how methane gas from cows was the real culprit behind the ozone hole. In this cheery little tune, scapegoats become "Scapecows" on right-wing radio where the responsibility for global warming and a persistent ozone hole is simplistically laid on stratospheric bovine gas, the vast volume of which is more likely being released from your radio.
5) Love Croaks:
Actually, this not a political or, technically, an ex-husband song because my frog prince becomes my 'X' before you know it. Based on a true story, my singing attracts thousands of frogs into a flooded parking lot where my Prince Charming gets promptly flattened. Has my love life been cursed ever since? I may be personally responsible for the extinction of an entire amphibious species. Perhaps at one time there were frogs that turned into princes, but in these modern times, it seems their fortunes have reversed.
6) Stupid:
Humanity is not exempt from the extinct species list in this song either. The last really well-educated generation was in the 1960's. We are now in the third generation of fascist DuhmDown. Duhmocracy is doomed because we keep creating more problems than we can solve. If our leaders are just a reflection of our "civilization," assured, we'll go extinct before we evolve. Here's why in one word. Of course those who take the time to listen to this song are really smarter than the military/industrial/media complex wants you to be! My fans listen to Duhmocracy because they have resisted the great DuhmDown and have learned to think for themselves! Are we at the great divergence in the evolution of the modern human brain?? Or, will the renaissance of creative human potential be denied by a bunch of reptilian-brained, fascist control freaks who plan on taking us all with them?
7) What R Children Is Learning:
Just how did we evolve into a Duhmocracy? With this song I attempt to answer a question our president posed to an audience in Florence, North Carolina in 2000 when he asked them, "What is our children learning?" Of all the malapropisms of this president, I thought this question merited a comprehensive answer. What our children is learning from this role model could bring down democracy as we know it—mission accomplished. As recently as a couple of months ago, our (p)resident reassured us that "childrens do learn." I can't tell you how confident that makes me feel—ahhhh, the fourth generation of DuhmDown coming up. Mr. (p)resident, just how do you envision them clawing their way up to the top of the trash heap we are leaving them? He'd tell you their life is precious while they are in the womb. After that it's... "Let 'em crawl! Let 'em cry!" I guess he doesn't envision too much of anything.
8) Why They Call it Weed:
Don't doubt that when women get together their ex-husband stories get told. With this song, they all merge into that one guy. Then the story quickly gets sucked into suburban legend, and takes a turn toward the bizarre. What happens when a pothead ex-husband leaves a legacy of millions of pot seeds that get sucked into a water vacuum? The seeds get dumped with the filth in the backyard, of course. Unwittingly cultivating contraband, the ex-wife battles his memory with a weed whacker and a flame thrower.
9) You Smoked Me:
This is the classic sample of the ex-husband genre I have coined, though it is really a song about self-esteem. Ladies, has your self esteem gone to pot? The same composite guy reemerges into what can only be described as a complete loser. It is only fair to follow up the last song with this smokey torch tune. This ex-husband song looks back on a hypothetical marriage to a pothead through the thick fog of pot smoke. Though the tracks are really gorgeous, the distinctly unromantic lyric imparts the trashy flavor of bad smoked cheese and bottom shelf brown liquor. This combo never ends well, even though at the time it seemed like a good idea.
10) Bye Bye Blackwell:
The perfect example of why you should keep voting, no matter how badly these bastards try to rig it. This parody to the tune of Bye Bye Blackbird (©1926 Ray Henderson & Mort Dixon) lampoons the former Ohio Secretary of State J. Kenneth Blackwell. I joyfully say buh-bye to this religious zealot and his unsuccessful '06 "goobernatorial" run in Ohio—proof that when people come out to vote in great enough numbers, elections cannot be stolen. Blackwell is famous for allegedly rigging the election of 2004 with a series of absurd directives and maneuvers which ultimately disenfranchised voters. He remains on the lamb by a justice system no longer interested in justice. It was recently learned that he routed '04 election results in the wee hours of the morning of November 3, 2004, through RNC servers housed by a private corporation in the basement of a Chatenooga, Tennessee bank—before Ohio voters got to see their elections results at all. These guys'll do anything because they know they will get away with it. In a clear conflict of interest he served as both Secretary of State AND the co-chair of the Ohio Bush/Cheney '04 campaign. His outrageous actions are captured in lyric based on knowledge I have archived over the last few years as a voting rights activist—a real achievement as this song is over in less than three minutes!
Well, I am off to start my next CD before this (p)resident is out of office, regardless of whether his administration fades away, or he is impeached—or arrested—first. So much material, so little time!! What are we songwriters going to do when he is gone? Please, should you feel the inspiration, write your own verses and learn the songs. It'll help you get through another fascist day. I would love to hear from you. Be good to yourself. Hold on to your peace. Stay just angry enough to write a letter, make a phone call. sign a petition, stand in the street, be the media... then LAUGH!
Victrola -- xoxoxoxoxo
