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Here’s how I’ve been bumping Palin/Obama threads today.
Sung to the tune of “Oh! Susanna, don’t you cry for me.”
“Oh, no Bama, please don’t lie to me... for I’m off to Free Republic with a laptop on my knee.”
I come from Minnesota with my laptop on my knee;
I’m goin’ to Free Republic my true love for to see.
It rained all night the day I left,
the weather it was dry;
The sun so hot I froze to death,
Obama don’t you lie.
Oh! No Bama, don’t you lie to me;
I come from Minnesota,
with my laptop on my knee.
I had a dream the other night,
When everything was still;
I thought I saw Obama dear,
A-coming down the hill.
The smearing lie was in Duluth,
The tear was in his eye,
Said I, I’m coming for the truth
Obama don’t you lie.
Oh! No Bama, don’t you lie to me;
I’m off to Free Republic,
with my laptop on my knee.
I fight in my pajamas,
It’s plain for all to see.
I aim to be the next Buckhead;
The media all hate me.
I fell in love with Sarah
When my sister bit a moose.
The Guvnor’s family ate it up
And then they set it loose.
Oh! No Bama, don’t you lie to me;
I’m off to Free Republic,
with my laptop on my knee.
She loves her sons, she likes her guns,
and Trigonometry.
The media will jump the shark
When Juan makes history.
Well, JimRob knows she’ll pave the trolls
So controversially,
And Berg will knock Obama down
With friends of Hillary.
Oh! No Bama, don’t you lie to me;
I’m off to Free Republic with a laptop on my knee.
I soon will be in Hawaii,
And then I’ll look all ‘round,
And when I find his birth record,
I’ll fall upon the ground.
But if I do not find it,
This Freeper’ll surely die,
And when I’m dead and buried,
Obama don’t you lie.
Oh! No Bama, don’t you cry for me;
I’m off to Free Republic with a laptop on my knee
http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2073903/posts?page=6#6
My wife and I were in Hong Kong, coming off one of the MTR stations, when we heard music far off in the distance.
When you get off of a train, you can go several blocks underground before you get to go back up to street level.
We kept walking, the music got louder.
We came up on a Chinese man sitting on a box that was about six inches square and two feet tall, playing a two-stringed Chinese fiddle called an erhu and a harmonica in a bamboo harness, a la Dylan.
And what made it truly "Twilight Zone" was the fact that we'd come halfway around the world, and the first busker was not only playing music from the American Southeast, but archaic folk music: Oh, Susannah.
And you don't have to ask. I've played instruments for money in my past, so naturally I tipped him well.