“Let’s be naughty and save Santa the trip.”
“Filner is Done”
(sung to “Carol of the Bells”)
Filner is done, far from a nun, more like a creep, hubris so deep. Now that we’re here, it’s only fair, to figure out, how Bob got clout.
Ding, dong, ding, dong, sounded so wrong, said Donna Frye, “Bob, he’s the guy!” That ended it, Dems they done bit, “Bob everywhere!” They would declare.
Carl he did pound, stood on the mound, “People prevail!” But Bob was frail. Minus his meds, Bob made his beds, soon we would hear, court day is here. Bury, bury, bury, bury Filner. Scary, scary, scary, scary Filner.
Those on the right, gushed in delight, “We can atone! Hand me a phone!” Confab is set, Carl makes a bet, House says no way, Kev wins the day. Why but of course, a Trojan horse, ready to sing, that broken thing!
Blah, blah, blah, blah, that is their song, “I care for you!” But really who? Rich or the poor? Who’s shown the door? “Neighbo hoods, yay!” Ain’t much to say.
Faulconer can hope, straddling the rope, gets him the win, by whiskered chin. But he leaves out, good ol’ self-doubt, which spelled the end, to labor’s friend. Very, very, very, wary Kevin. Jerry, Jerry, Jerry, carry Kevin. Ding, dong, ding, dong.
“It Came Upon a
(sung to “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear”)
It came upon a Fletcher clear, a light above neatly coiffed head, “My party switchin’ days are kaput, the White House dream is dead.” Rainbows turned gray, gold coins to lead, McRibs just tasted so-so. The world in solemn stillness lay, how could ol’ Nate simply go?
“I’ve had enough of the bump and grind,” said Fletch from his coastal view. “I’d rather swallow a surfboard tip, than churn in the media stew!” He said farewell to a public life, “My wife and kids now are king.” And then he jet- packed away from there, leaving a kick-ass smoke ring.
(sung to “O Christmas Tree”)
O GOP, O GOP, how messed up are your branches! Your Tea’s so green, in careers climb, as Boehner’s shown, in recent time. O GOP, O GOP, how screwed up are your branches!
O GOP, O GOP, what pratfalls still await thee? What issue’s next, on which you’ll lose? And can you keep, that Teddy Cruz? O GOP, O GOP, how fucked up are your chances!
“Jerry Drummer Boy”
(sung to “Little Drummer Boy”)
Come they told me, to shill for big biz. A Chamber made for me, to shill for big biz. A fat paycheck yahoo! To shill for big biz. Read shit and drink some brews, to shill for big biz, shill for big biz, shill for big biz. So to honor them, to shill for big biz. I was, like, Yes!
Slimmer Jerry, to shill for big biz. Fattened with pension glee, to shill for big biz. “I’m here to smile and schmooze,” to shill for big biz. “Now where the hell’s the booze?!” to shill for big biz, shill for big biz, shill for big biz. “If you’re feeling luck,” to shill for big biz, “I won’t say ‘Fuck!’”
Chamberati, to shill for big biz. Made Sanders figurehead, to shill for big biz. A one-year lobby ban, to shill for big biz. And now a perfect tan, to shill for big biz, shill for big biz, shill for big biz. “I feel so status quo,” to shill for big biz. “Just so you know.”
“iMayor as I Wander”
(sung to “I Wonder As I Wander”)
iMayor as I wander out under the sky, Filner gets booted and— shazam!—I’m the guy! Imagine my shock and the echoes of shrieks. My letterhead had been sitting for quite a few weeks!
When Filner departed, I took little glee, but yes it took minutes from the 10th floor to flee. “This town endured nine months of literal hell. To rise from such depths, I’m sure to look swell!”
iMayor as I wander with glinting new sheen, what will these accolades for my future mean? It’s not like the next three years will be lean, but where am I, Todd Gloria, in 2016?
“The News Punk Song”
(sung to “The Chipmunk Song”)
Alright, you news punk! Ready to sing your song?
[Doug Manchester] I’ll say we are! [John Lynch] What he said.
OK, Roger? Roger? Roger! [Roger Hedgecock] OK!!!
Christmas, Christmas time is near. Time for jabs and time to jeer. We’ve sucked eggs but had a blast. Hurry Christmas, hurry fast. Our opinions loop the loop. And our TV show is poop. But you’re stuck with us so smile. Now enjoy some Hedgecock bile!
Quack quack blabber, split the state. Obama’s worse than eating bait. Think this empire gets me dates? Please please Christmas, don’t be late.
[Lynch] Dates? Goddamnit Papa, you’re off the market, remem- ber? We’re here to seize the freakin’ world! Freakin’ blue pills. Thought Filner would’ve taught you a lesson....
[Manchester] Aw, lay off, Lynch. [Roger] Let’s sing it again! [Lynch] Shut up, Roger.
“We Three Kings of Shipbuilders Are”
(sung to “We Three Kings of Or ent Are”)
We three kings of shipbuilders are, really good at moving the bar. Bar- rio Logan, fixed with a slogan. Sign this or we’ll just move. Oooooo crock of wonder, crock of spite. Crock of crap that’s worth the fight. Neighbors ailing, but prevailing. Watch us wield our monied might!
Those petitions, what’s the big deal? So we fib while making our spiel. It’s those lobs, that’ll save jobs. Plus we’re not big on rules. Ooooo crock of blunders, crock of blight, just blow off the residents’ plight. With Sir Kevin, goes to Eleven. Watch us wield our true White Knight!