Just yesterday, a verdict was reached in another Ponzi Scheme case, with three Minnesota men found guilty of defrauding investors who were promised sure-fire double digit returns. What they got instead were double digit remains – most everything was lost in their six and seven digit gambles.
Bernie Madoff, Tom Petters and Trevor Cook all skipped past my door when they were out seeking investors for their fraudulent empires. I’d like to think I would have declined the opportunity because I can be as suspicious and reticent as the next guy, but I also know I’m a pushover for a good story. And you don’t get very far with a Ponzi Scheme if you’re not a compelling storyteller. Otherwise smart people fall for these things – they’re not all dopes. Aside from some kind of surgical removal of the greed gene, how can you protect yourself?
Because we’re all stuck in the musical parody mode this week, perhaps there’s a little ditty that can be fabricated to serve as a reminder when the deal seems “too good to be true.” Dean Martin provides the template:
When they say “Tsk tsk tsk,
Have no fear, there’s no risk.”
That’s a Ponzi.
When you ask for a look
But you can’t see the books
That’s a Ponzi.
Bells should ring
You’re a ding-a-ling
You’re a ding-a-ling
It will sting when they tell ya.
You are broke
What a funny joke
What a funny joke
Can’t retire, poor fella!
“The return’s guaranteed.
This plan’s all that you need.”
That’s a Ponzi.
When you ask for your dough
And they say “There’s no mo’” You are screwed.
You can’t have happy days
Unlike Richie and Pottsie and Fonzie,
That’s too bad. You’ve been had.
Money’s gone. Oh so sad. That’s a Ponzi!
Over the weekend, tim and Chris started putting together a political musical – a weirdly appropriate tangent since Sunday night was Tony Award night in New York.
tim suggested the idea as part of a discussion of divided loyalties. He recalled that West Side Story is based on Romeo and Juliet, and figured (correctly) that the story could be re-told in a modern political setting with “a tea party princess falling for a lift wing do gooder.”
Chris took it from there:
Well this is just too much fun. Writing parodies of well known songs is irresistible – like eating handfuls of potato chips. I feel compelled and a little sick to my stomach after an hour of doing it non-stop. It’s a guilty pleasure that many other people see as extremely unattractive. So I’m delighted when great minds like tim and Chris insist we do it anyway.
A liberal political musical may still be possible in America as long as the book and lyrics don’t have to march in lock step with positions taken by the backers. Newsies is unabashedly pro-union, though its creator, the Disney Corporation, has had some contentious relations with workers along the way. A conservative musical may not be totally out of the question. Perhaps there’s an Ayn Rand or a NASCAR musical in the works somewhere, but would anyone choose to go of their own free will? In the meantime, we’ll just have to proceed with West Slide Story.
Let your imagination run free.
There is at least one scene in every show where the main character has a moment of realization – something has changed. We need to identify that point, and I think it would be wise to match the Bernstein/Sondheim/Laurents structure and bring it in where Tony finds he has fallen in love with Maria. Except in West Slide Story, Tony realizes he and the ultra-conservative Maria have something in common, so he sings “Agree, ah” and then segues into “You’re Right”.
Agree, ah
I’ve just realized we agree, ah –
– bout something. Now I think
Your politics don’t stink
to me.
Agree, ah
That means that we eye-to-eye see, ah!
And when our thoughts align
I take it as a sign
we’re free!
Agree, ah
Say it loud – I hear donkeys braying
Say it soft – there’ll be elephants spraying
Debris, ah.
But let them protest. We agree, ah!
Maria:
You’re right, you’re right.
I realize you’re right.
You’re right and I think you always were!
Tony:
You’re right, you’re right.
In fact it’s you who’s right.
It tickles me, at last, to defer.
Both:
Give way
And dogma doesn’t dog us.
Our talking points are pointless.
We have no need to fight!
Don’t be uptight
Let’s talk it over dear, without spite
You’re right!
But this is a truce shadowed by ill omens. The Nits and the Snarks have too much invested in continuous warfare to allow romance to break out. After a lot of energetic dancing, some smooching, hand grabbing, fire-escape climbing and a bit of unfortunate gunplay, everybody winds up dead at the end.
Instant classic!
Give us a lyric, a plot point, a character or just a line to add to Left Slide Story.
The Michele Bachmann / Switzerland citizenship brouhaha, which played out quickly over the course of a few days this week, has me thinking about Cole Porter musicals.
While we don’t know all the details of what really went on behind the scenes, I’m sure the 1930’s Broadway version would re-write the story to revolve around an unlikely relationship with international overtones.
Michele, a blushing American farm girl, meets Marcus, a dashing Swiss industrialist, when he comes to Bettendorf to demonstrate a new machine that will add Swiss chocolate to cows’ milk as it comes out of the udder.
Marcus’s attempts to woo Michele meet with some initial success, but she hesitates to commit because her one true love is the manager of the local grain elevator, an inexplicably attractive hick named Potus. But Potus has never looked at her seriously, and Michele fears he never will.
It seems that every four years, Potus becomes eligible and a frantic contest ensues to win his Pledge of Allegiance, which is highly coveted but only good for another four years. Potus has exacting requirements for those he will accept. One unshakeable condition is that each candidate must be clearly aligned and totally committed. No wishy-washiness allowed!
Each time the quadrennial courtship begins, Michele considers launching a bid of her own, but with Marcus in the picture she has something more solid to go to – the very real possibility of a tangible kind of happiness in a cozy chalet in the Alps.
But one dusty day near the truck scales, Potus casts a meaningful glance in Michele’s direction and she realizes she must chase her crazy dream of someday fairy-land happiness with Potus. She campaigns relentlessly for his attention, flying off in all directions at once and saying outlandish things to re-capture that moment of magic. Her friends shake their heads at this irrational fixation, particularly since they all think a cozy chalet and a cup of Swiss chocolate with sure-thing Marcus sounds pretty great.
Marcus waits with the carefully calibrated patience of a fine Swiss watch, marking off the days and hours until Potus breaks Michele’s heart, which, of course, Potus does, choosing to go off with a wealthy lightweight Michele considers to be a glaring fake.
In her hour of humiliation, Marcus re-offers Michele a ring, and this time she accepts.
On her wedding day, while walking down the aisle under a veil of regret, Michele is stopped mid-way to the altar by the Swiss embassy’s charge d’affairs, who informs her that when she ties the knot with Marcus she will automatically become a full citizen of his country, and will have to adopt a small herd of goats and sign the Pledge of Neutrality.
This she cannot do.
Happily calling off the wedding, Michele informs the Swiss official he can keep his wimpy, wishy-washy pledge – she’s going back to Iowa to continue hoping … and waiting.
Or something like that. Of course Cole Porter didn’t write the tangled plots of those goofball musicals – he just did the tunes and lyrics. I haven’t had time to think of what those lyrics might be, except for this verse from some early song where Michele wrestles with her choice between potential happiness in the Alps and her irrational love of Potus:
All of Switzerlands’ attractions –
Private banks. The Matterhorn.
Can’t compete for someone who was
In a place much flatter, born.
and …
If I choose to go with Marcus,
living in another place, we
won’t remember I was born
just down the road from John Wayne (Gacy)
Obviously, “Swiss Tease”, the musical, needs lots of work.
In the meantime, from what country would you accept dual citizenship?
Here we are, gathered on this bleak Monday, a band of hardy stragglers huddled together in a sheltered corner of the internet. We are the last survivors of Earth’s weekend “Supermoon” encounter.
Saturday evening’s 14% larger-than-normal full moon came as a boon to photographers, lunatics and doomsayers. The full moon has always had some baggage and is regularly blamed for episodes of weird human behavior. The moon’s elliptical orbit brought it to its closest Earth approach at the same time fullness arrived, causing worldwide consternation even though nothing was out of the ordinary.
But theater people already know what great dramatic effects can be wrought with timing and careful manipulation of the lights. And how little those effects will mean if you perform them while the curtain is drawn, as it was here in the Twin Cities on Saturday night.
Still, we live in a particular place and at a specific time when things that are bigger and brighter than normal are revered. We like the concept of “super-ness”, whether it’s applied to football games or french fries. Even a small fragment of extra power is alluring, and some wondered if a close-approach moon might trigger a rash of earthquakes and tsunamis. It didn’t, but it did shake loose an avalanche of online articles about the “Supermoon”, and how there was really nothing to fear.
In the end, paying closer attention to what goes on in the night sky can’t be bad, and I know some learning happened. For example, until I encountered and made myself pay attention to the “Supermoon”, I was unsure if the word “elliptical” had two or three “L’s”. Now I know!
Here’s a nice educational flyer from space.com with more handy information.
All Supermoon needs now is a song.
Here’s one idea, to the familiar tune of “Moon River”.
Moon … Super! Wider than a mile.
Calamity’s your style … they say.
You seem bigger, you quake trigger.
The closer you look the more we pull away.
Space drifter, raising up our tides
Upsetting our insides, don’t scoff!
Our planet is nearing it’s end! It’s chaos you portend.
You’re a lousy friend, Moon – Super! Back off!
Today is Scottish folk singer Jean Redpath‘s birthday. She was born in Edinburgh on April 28th in 1937. She is (has?) an M.B.E. (Member of the British Empire), which is an exalted title that carries some weight but mostly what it tells us is that everyone agrees she’s the best there is at what she does. The Edinburgh Evening News put it this way:
“To call Jean Redpath a Scottish folk singer is a bit like calling Michelangelo an Italian interior decorator.”
I would have issues with Michelangelo as my decorator, just as I’m sure he would have issues with my interior. I’m not so sure about painted ceilings, but can we talk about the color of the couch?
When Jean Redpath fills a room with a song there is a clear connection to the ancient and ongoing tradition of the Scottish people – their history and poetry come alive through her voice and she taken this all over the world in person and through the airwaves on “A Prairie Home Companion” and other broadcasts.
She has done 40 albums and has recorded at least 180 Robert Burns songs – wonderful tunes that are full of strange Scottish words that sound like throat clearing exercises but they connect to essential human experiences and emotions that cross all cultural barriers.
Perhaps she would like to sing a Lady Gaga tune every now and then, but my guess is that Jean Redpath is completely happy and engaged in the rich artistic realm she inhabits. It must be a great comfort to know so clearly what you are about and to have such success sharing it with other people.
Imagine that you have been anointed as an ambassador to the world of a great cultural tradition. Which one would suit you best?
I was intrigued by the story this week that some above-average billionaires are proposing to explore space for a way to accumulate even more wealth through the burgeoning not-yet-an-industry of Space Mining. The idea is to find precious metal rich asteroids, and to plunder them with robots.
These machines will then somehow deliver the spoils to Earth where already fat portfolios will swell with an infusion of Space Cash. I suppose that’s the sort of thing you dream of when you’ve already got more money than a person can comprehend – more mind-blowing wealth. But what a sad business plan – to do all this with unfeeling robots cheats the rest of us out of all the melodramatic Space Mining Songs that would be written if humans actually left the planet to do this work.
Of course we’d have to change some of the standard references.
Here’s a Merle Travis original:
And here’s a group called Ryan’s Fancy doing their version that appears to include only Merle’s chorus. But I love it that they’re performing on what looks to be the ruins of a gantry after an especially tumultuous launch from the spaceport.
One could, if one were so inclined, imagine how this classic might be adapted by the poor unfortunates who would rush to find a living by collecting silver in space.
Come all you young fellows so young and so fine
And seek not your fortune way up in the mine
Every mineral is precious and pure – unalloyed.
But it’s hell to dig deep into an asteroid.
It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine
They will tell you at launch that you’re gonna be rich
In a spacesuit there’s no way to scratch at that itch
It’ll claw at your heart, it’ll tickle your mind.
But there’s no satisfaction way up in the mine.
It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine
You’ll feel weightless and nauseous and all kinds of sad.
And you’ll think of your family left back on the pad.
When you total it up and they give you your leave
You will barely earn back what they charged you to breathe.
It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s desolate too.
Where the gravity’s weak and the comforts are few.
Where the metals are rare and the air is refined.
It’s stark and its grungy way up in the mine
This is the anniversary of General Douglas MacArthur’s farewell address, which included the catchphrase “Old Soliders Never Die, They Just Fade Away.”
Definitely not fading away here.
To my way of thinking, the line is more appropriate to describe the end of the perpetual Disc Jockey. Dick Clark did just fade away, gradually vanishing like so many of the songs he promoted, the volume sliding down to an imperceptible nothing.
But for soldiers? I’m puzzled.
Why is just fading away any better or more appropriate for an old soldier than dying? Especially in a business where dying is such an ever present and immediate risk? We certainly know that young soldiers die – far too many of them. Why would old soldiers find any comfort in the prospect of a long fade? Or is this an expression of regret that they can’t go out in a blaze of glory like the young comrades they lost so many years ago? I don’t get the point. Soldiers? Anyone?
The famous line comes at the end of the speech, which was given to a Joint Session of Congress on April 19th, 1951.
“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular barracks ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that old soldiers never die; they just fade away. And like the old soldier of that ballad, I now close my military career and just fade away, an old soldier who tried to do his duty as God gave him the light to see that duty.
Good Bye.”
The line comes from an old “barracks ballad”? I didn’t know that, and wondered if perhaps seeing the words to the ballad might shed some light on the sentiment. I didn’t find much on my first few tries with Google, but fortunately for me there’s Subtropic Bob, who writes a blog called “This Day In Quotes.”
Subtropic did some digging last year and managed to connect the quote to a hymn called “Kind Words Never Die”, which makes the case that kind words, sweet thoughts and human souls are eternal. Linking that idea to old soldiers was apparently a work of parody, and not a flattering one at that (what parody ever is?).
“Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
They simply fade away.
Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
Young ones wish they would.”
If this is actually the song MacArthur recalled, the proclamation about old soldiers sounds far from proud. But at the time he gave his speech, the General was looking back on a 52 year military career. It is entirely possible that this popular, poignant saying is actually a lyric lifted from a misremembered, cheeky song meant to mock the very same people who now shed a tear over it. The lesson for satirists – time wears away the sharp edges of your biting wit, and the joke is ultimately on you.
What would be a more modern version of MacArthur’s inadvertent transformation of a joke into into a poignant benediction? Imagine some long-serving college president made this comment as the final lines in a farewell speech …
“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular dormitory ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that ‘in the end, I learned to bend, and did it their way.’ So now I close my career in academe, I say to you what is a man? What can I do? Open your books. Read chapter Two. And if it seems a bit routine don’t talk to me, go see the dean. They get their way. I get my pay. We do it … their way.”
What song lyrics would you lift for your Farewell Address?
Today is both the birthday of Casey Jones (1863) the brave engineer, and Albert Einstein (1879), the Nobel Prize winning physicist and brainy icon.
There are a couple of famous songs about Casey Jones. This one is by Johnny Cash.
And there’s this not very well known song about Albert Einstein.
But there’s no song at all that combines the two of them.
Well I’m gonna tell you if you insist
Of an engineer who was a physicist
Casey Einstein was the fella’s name
With some fancy calculations, boys, he won his fame.
The Dean called Casey at a quarter to 8
Put him on a train, said “Don’t be late.”
He was goin’ to Stockholm with some other guys
And they’d all be comin’ back here with the Nobel Prize.
C. Einstein, no one else is greater.
C. Einstein, no one else can be compared.
C. Einstein didn’t need a calculator
When he figured out that E is just like MC squared.
The train set out but it was far too slow.
They would never get to Sweden for the Nobel show.
Had a speech in his pocket he might never give
Casey thought it was a good one but that’s relative.
Einstein told the fireman to pour on coal.
‘Cause the speed of light is our final goal.
There’s no speed more speedy and it ain’t been topped.
When they hit it Casey saw his pocket watch had stopped.
Casey Ein. Gonna finish his name later!
Casey Stein. See, you didn’t have to wait!
If you don’t malign or manipulate the dater
The consistency of time is open to debate.
Spelling Speed Of Light starts with S.O.L.
It’s an acronym for other shocking things as well.
Which we won’t discuss, ’cause we’ve got reserve.
But S.O.L. is what they felt when Casey hit that curve.
Now they say the train kept going and it’s going still.
Casey Einstein left the world without a final will.
All he had was just a fiddle and a coffee cup.
And a train that goes forever and keeps speeding up.
Casey E. he was born to be a thinker.
Casey E. had ideas you can’t resist.
Casey E. wasn’t nasty or a stinker.
Just a brilliant engineer and a brave physicist.
The similarities between this year’s Republican primary competition and “reality” TV are striking. The candidates have appeared together almost weekly, sometimes every couple of days. They have been together so much the nerves started to fray long ago. They’ve been forced to compete with one another on specific assigned topics like jobs, taxes, government regulation, super-patriotism, and now we’ve reached the stage where a competitor is dropped after every gathering. They have petty gripes with one another and their spats and resentments make headlines. We’re down to four now.
Who will be The Survivor? The smart money is still on Mitt Romney, who is already looking ahead to the next contest with Barack Obama.
How will the next show shape up with these two contestants? We got a hint in Iowa and New Hampshire, when Romney fell into a lyrics-reciting phase at campaign stops. Just like prime time TV, whatever gimmick gets a positive reaction from the audience will be repeated. He did this a lot.
Well, you know where this is going, don’t you?
Obama sees it, and he laid down his marker this week.
Do you think Mitt Romney has already had his first private singing lesson? I say he has. He’d better start, because he has a lot of catching up to do. Stephen Colbert is on the campaign trail now, and he can sing harmony on The Star Spangled Banner.
Yes, no matter who winds up running, this year’s presidential election will end in a sing-off! It’s obvious. America loves music and even people who don’t vote are fixated on songs. The template was well established with American Idol. Sorting through political issues is boring and hard. Caring about good governance requires time and thought. But deciding who is the best singer is fun, and we can judge it totally on emotion. There is no wrong or right – it’s all about how the singer makes you feel! Style has officially demolished substance – now it’s time for a victory lap. Get ready for the Obama-Romney-Colbert sing-off! When will we get the first Karaoke-Debate? I say it will happen by August.
Last year on Martin Luther King Jr. Day we had a discussion about songs and performers who spoke to the cause of civil rights. I posted a video of a Mavis Staples song and some well-known names like Nina Simone, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan were mentioned.
Near the end of the string, Barbara in Robbinsdale came up with this unexpected one – Shawn Phillips, and a folk song I had never heard before – Hey Nelly, Nelly. BiR was kind enough to give us the words, also.
Hey Nelly Nelly, come to the window
Hey Nelly Nelly look at what I see
He’s riding into town on a sway back mule
Got a tall black hat and he looks like a fool
He sure is talkin’ like he’s been to school
And it’s 1853
Hey Nelly Nelly, listen what he’s sayin’
Hey Nelly Nelly, he says it’s gettin’ late
And he says them black folks should all be free
To walk around the same as you and me
He’s talkin’ ’bout a thing he calls democracy
And it’s 1858
Hey Nelly Nelly hear the band a playing
Hey Nelly Nelly, hand me down my gun
“Cause the men are cheerin’ and the boys are too
They’re all puttin’ on their coats of blue
I can’t sit around here and talk to you
“Cause it’s 1861
Hey Nelly Nelly, Come to the window
Hey Nelly Nelly, I’ve come back alive
My coat of blue is stained with red
And the man in the tall black hat is dead
We sure will remember all the things he said
In 1865
Hey Nelly Nelly, come to the window
Hey Nelly Nelly, look at what I see
I see white folks and colored walkin’ side by side
They’re walkin’ in a column that’s a century wide
It’s still a long and a hard and a bloody ride
In 1963
I was a fan of this song before it even started because half the writing credit goes to Shel Silverstein. You can see that sly, bald devil at work as the lyrics set in context the long, long process of moving towards justice. And he gets Abe Lincoln into the starring role without ever mentioning his name. Ah, the power of a hat.
There are few things less fashionable today than earnest folk songs about changing the world, and there are even fewer songs that mention historic dates in a way that would be meaningful to anybody. “Hey Nelly Nelly” manages to do both, and it would be completely unknown today if not for a handful of recordings by Judy Collins. Still, you have to admire Silverstein and co-writer Jim Friedman for giving it a try.
What song do you know that almost no one else remembers?