Paul Simon wrote “A Simple Desultory Philippic (or How I Was Robert McNamara’d Into Submission)” during a period of time when he was frequently traveling between the US and the UK. The lyrics are a parody or homage to the style of folk song then exemplified and popularized by Bob Dylan. Recorded versions of the song even feature a bridge where Simon echoes a lyric from Dylan’s famous song, “It’s Alright Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)” and include a passing mention of the singer-songwriter in the form of a joke about Dylan Thomas. The song appears in two versions, each of which features different names and slight variations on the bridge and the closing lines.
The litany of names and complaints is an overwhelming rush of language and image, not unlike the postmodern phenomenon of being overloaded with news and information. The singer is overcome by this barrage of faces and places; he sings of resignation, smoking “a pint of tea a day” to cope with the anxiety. Simon’s song loses much of this effect today, as the names are vague relics of history instead of individuals representing contemporary angst and turmoil. In my parody of Simon’s parody of Dylan, I chose to pursue a similar line of contemporary names and events, though I doubt anyone will be reading this version in fifty years to wonder about any of my references. As my guide for constructing these lyrics, I preferred the 1965 acoustic version of the song that Simon recorded in London. If you wonder what the song sounds like, until I record my own version, or convince a more talented musician to do so, you’ll just have to click that link and use your imagination.
A Simple Desultory Phillipic (or How I Was Barack Obama’d Into Submission)
With apologies to Paul Simon
© 2012 by Cal Godot
I was George Bushed, purple kushed,
Nine-eleven, shot to heaven,
Iraq’d and rolled and shocked and awed.
I got groped by the friendly skies
X-rays made me super-sized,
iMac’d, iTuned, and then iPod.
I been Steve Buscemi starvin’ skinny,
Paris Hilton caught me tiltin’
Windmills on Sunset Boulevard.
Well I got pinched and David Lynched
By movie stars beamed down from Mars
L. Ron Phil Dicked Jean Luc Picard.
(bridge):
I met a man who once sold soap
but now moves dope ’cause he’s got no hope
He don’t understand the master plan
That peace is war and less is more
He’s forgotten what he’s working for
But it’s alright Ma
That’s progress
Phil Spector resurrected
Michael Jackson’s head dissected
On CourtTV at six o’clock
Breakfast bagels, MILFs and kegels,
Bean burritos stuffed with Cheetos –
Somebody pass me the botox.
When in L.A. do as I say
Get yourself a steady payday
Save yourself a world of grief
Knock off all that dirty thinkin’
Fix yourself with good clean drinkin’
Then twelve-step your way to quick relief