Class of 2020

I just finished watching the tribute to the class of 2020 and was struck by the job the producers did in representing a very diverse America.  The graduating seniors have had a tough go of it this year, but they are a talented bunch and I don’t think they are fooled by the messaging of Trump’s Republican party.   They know they are witnessing white man’s last vestiges of holding onto power.

Barack Obama, class guy that he is, delivered a nice speech to the graduating class where there was strong messaging about not ceding your power to the older generation because they’re quite capable of screwing things up.  You’re going to have to get involved, ie. vote.  Trump is completely incapable of delivering such a speech.  He would have made it about him and blathered on about what a great job he’s doing on the pandemic.

Let’s hope the kids get out there and register to vote.

The fort

With the summer of 1970 in full swing and no responsibilities in sight, I found myself hanging out with the neighbor kid behind where we lived brainstorming on what we were going to do with ourselves that day.  On one side of his house, there was a large pile of scrap wood.  A real bonanza of a stockpile.  It had everything from 1/2″ plywood sheets, 2×4’s, 1×2’s and 4×4’s to misc. 3/4″ pieces of various sizes. I know, let’s build a fort! 

Jon’s dad wasn’t home at the moment and his mom didn’t seem to care what happened to that wood so we were good to go.

With an abundance of wood, we could build the coolest fort the neighborhood had ever seen.  I’d built a couple of tree forts prior to this, but those were merely boards between a couple of branches up high to sit on.  This was going to be an impressive structure.

We couldn’t be bothered with architecting anything for this endeavor, we were in too much of a hurry to have a fort.  I made a quick trip home and returned with a handsaw, hammer, and some nails and before you knew it we were on our way.

We could tell from the stockpile of wood that there was about enough material to make a structure that was going to be approximately 4′ high by 6′ long and 3′ deep.  It was going to have an open entrance and some see-through slots that would act as natural windows without having to cut an actual window slot out.

As the afternoon heat set in, the hand sawing ended up being the most challenging part. We would take turns sawing through a big longboard for our sides and top before slapping it on with a few nails.  Often we would saw 3-4 inches, rest, saw a few more inches, rest.  My arms grew numb after a while but we had our sights on the end product and it was going to be a thing of beauty.

By later afternoon we were sweaty, dusty, and tired, but our structure was coming together. Jon’s dad came home a little after 5pm and checked in on our project.  He was impressed with what we had done with the boards.  We felt like we had really accomplished something.  He likes it.  Whew!

The very next day we were enjoying the fruits of our labor and naturally making big plans for phase II.  There was one thing about the fort though.  It was reasonably square at its sides, but overall it had a little wobble to it.

The wobble bothered me, and it felt a little like unfinished business.  Easy enough to fix though, I said to myself.  All we need to do is attached the fort to the house.   I don’t think Mr. Alger will mind.

So we dragged the fort to where it was butted up against the house for fastening, then proceeded to drive several nails from the side of the fort into the house.  Top and bottom for maximum stability.

There, much better!  Hardly any wobble.

Jon’s mom made us lunch that day so we could take it out to the fort.  We spent the rest of the day inside trying to figure out how we could ever top this accomplishment.

Mr. Alger did come home that evening and was not pleased that he now had a 72 square ft. addition to his house.  Free of charge mind you! Some guys are just natural complainers.  And that was the end of the fort project.

Breath in, Lyrics out

(Written in the early 2000’s about a local band)

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Ever wonder what might happen if you took time out to tap into your creative side? Ruby Red’s lead singer Robin Brantley did. The singer/songwriter believes that practicing meditation and following her instincts led her to where she is today – writing hit songs, playing guitar in a band, connecting with audiences in live performance, and loving every minute of it.

Ruby Red is an all-original band with mainstream appeal. Brantley does the songwriting and arranging for the group consisting of herself on acoustic guitar, husband Dave on harmony and percussion, Mark Horn on keys, Chad Crabtree on bass, Brett Hobbs on drums and Jesse Cruz on lead guitar. Considered by most a “crossover” band – (somewhere in-between rock and country), Ruby Red combines acoustic melodies with edgy guitar effects, stimulating drum fills and strong female vocals to bring Brantley’s lyrics to life. The crossover genre is a logical fit considering Brantley’s musical influences are Chrissie Hynde, Sheryl Crow, Patsy Cline, and Loretta Lynn.

The band was formed in 2003 and achieved early success with airplay of Brantley’s song “I Know” on KINK radio. Since then the group has been building on that success, playing bigger venues and getting more recognition as they gain exposure in the PDX music scene.

“The opportunities are really starting to come our way” explains Brantley, in reference to two movie soundtrack deals she’s been working on. One that she is particularly excited about, “Have Mercy! Confessions of the Original Rock ‘N’ Roll Animal”, is based on the life of Wolfman Jack. That plus the opportunity to open for Eddie Money at Esther Short Park in Vancouver is evidence that the band is gaining considerable momentum.

In the studio, Ruby Red has recently completed, “Tall Enough for This Ride” which contains 12 originals including “Mary”, which has seen air time on KUPL. While “Mary” might be the single noticed early, tracks 1 (Second to Nature) and 8 (Say You Need Me) are high energy arrangements backed by solid musicianship that could do even better.

While the rewards have been many, Brantley is the first to admit that pursuing a career in music is a lot of hard work. She sites dealing with band turnover as the most difficult aspect of the job. When Cruz has added a few years ago, over 50 hopefuls were auditioned. The process takes its toll but has its rewards. “Jesse is perfect for us” says Brantley with a glow.

Songwriting is the part that comes easiest to the alluring rocker. Lyrics come to her at all times of the day and night, including in her dreams. Brantley credits meditation. “I feel it’s more than a coincidence”, she says, “that this started happening right after I started practicing meditation.”

Brantley is more than just a pretty face on stage though. She’s an ambitious, business-savvy entrepreneur who understands how to get results in managing and marketing a band. She credits local legends Sonny Hess and Lisa Mann as two role models who have influenced her career. Hess and Mann’s experience, mentoring, and encouragement have been invaluable to her as she navigates through the mine-field that can be the music business.

Brantley is now a firm believer and practitioner of taking time out for inward reflection and meditation. Ruby Red hopes she can continue to channel the lyrics all the way to Nashville.

The curse of Jack

I want I want. There aren’t enough hours in the day to satisfy my endless list of wants. And it’s not getting any easier as I go through mid-life. Fortunately, the list doesn’t include much in the way of material things. Instead, I suffer from a bad case of too many interests which results in a daily tug-of-war over how I should spend my time.

Wikipedia defines “Jack of all trades, master of none” as “a figure of speech used in reference to a person who is competent with many skills but is not outstanding in anyone.” That would be me. On the plus side, I consider myself to be a well rounded, versatile sort, conversant on a variety of subjects. On the downside, I meander through life unfocused, never rising above mediocrity. Alas, the value of the multi-tasking Ninja is suspect. It’s an illusion. True accomplishment and fulfillment remain a big tease. I learn to play the signature riff but never finish the whole song. I add the book to my shelf, but never master the subject. I wear the fashionable jacket with the letter, but remain hopelessly stranded on J.V. I torture myself in a long buffet line of great smelling food while holding a small salad plate and no idea where the forks are.

Oh, how I envy those who figure out their life’s purpose at an early age. How nice it must be to employ the talents each of us has been given, engaging in fulfilling endeavors with no regrets about how the time was spent.

In an ideal world, parents would expose kids to a wide variety of experiences; let them see for themselves which ones they are good at, and sit back and watch nature take its course while they narrow the list down. Hopefully, by the time they reach college age, they will see a good fit between their natural talents and a major field of study and a hobby or two they really enjoy. My problem is, I gained a wide variety of experiences in spades, but nothing ever dropped off the list. It’s a cruel form of nature that prunes my list, only because I’ve learned the hard way that I don’t function very well on less than 8 hours of sleep.

I want to play guitar like Carlos Santana, the piano like Billy Joel, write op-ed pieces for the NY Times and be the local movie buff with instant recall of movie trivia. I want to run a marathon, hit the slopes on weekends, do Cycle Oregon and hike around the Mt. Hood trail. I want to collect Beatles memorabilia, do amazing stunts on water skis, and go sailing every year in the San Juan’s. I want to trade stocks and make people wonder if I’m clairvoyant.

I want to start a side business, coach youth soccer, build furniture and travel to Italy. I want to get my handicap down to 5, fly fish in southern Oregon, read all the important novels and volunteer down at the Oregon Foodbank. I want season tickets to Oregon football and to visit all of the Pac 10 stadiums with my sons. I want to be considered an expert level Perl programmer, a UNIX guru, and tech whiz. I want to be a great Dad, Granddad, and all-around family guy, with kids who are independent, self-sufficient, thoughtful and considerate adults.

It’s frustrating because I now require a large house, a three-car garage, and a storage unit to store all of this stuff that I use maybe once a year (not to mention the cost of purchasing it all).   The worst part is, I’ve spread my time so thinly across these activities that I’m not really very good at any of them. I’m just thankful that I wasn’t exposed to scuba diving because that gear looks really expensive.

This year, instead of recycling my list of New Year’s resolutions, I’m determined to simplify down to a single want: an ah-ha moment. An awakening. An epiphany. A vision that clues me in as to which of these minuscule talents to focus on. Surely this knowledge will lead me down the path to enlightenment. Then I promise to let go of all the other forms of mediocrity that I engage in, have a huge garage sale and focus on whatever it is until someone says “Hey, you’re really good at that.”

Tim and Jim

(This was an article I wrote in 2007 if memory serves.  The Tualatin times afforded me the opportunity to write a piece for their Living Section and this article was featured).

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Sometimes a last name isn’t necessary — Elvis, Elton, Jimi, Mick.

Around Tualatin, the phrase “Tim and Jim” is synonymous with local legends Tim Ellis and Jim Walker, who bring their unique style of entertainment to Hayden’s Lakefront Grill Lounge most Friday and Saturday nights.

On the surface, the idea of an acoustic guitar duo in a hotel lounge may not conjure up images of an evening you’ll want to immediately go text your friends about, but Ellis and Walker are anything but your typical lounge lizard act. They have branded their own style of performance.

It would be hard to categorize their eclectic range of material into a single genre. From Irish Folk Ballads to Simon and Garfunkel, Led Zeppelin to The Beatles’ “Helter Skelter”, they’ve got the bases covered. “Versatility has always been important to us” explains Ellis.

What’s different about Ellis and Walker is the improvisational aspect of the performance. “There is no setlist”, said Ellis. “Everything is very dynamic.”

They are likely to start a marathon medley of songs at 7:30pm and not come up for air until 10pm. As if joined at the hip, they execute seamless song transitions with little more than a head nod or a whisper.

“It’s a balanced attack on chaos”, added Walker. If we’re in a particular rhythm, one of us will think of a song that will either maintain the flow or at least be in a similar key.”

Whatever the formula, it appears to be working. The energy coming from the stage is utterly contagious.

In the greater Portland area journeymen, Ellis and Walker need no introduction. Both have well-established careers in the music business. Ellis has shared the stage with ‘A-List’ performers such as Tom Petty, Robben Ford, and Michael MacDonald. Walker has opened for Little Feat, Karla Bonoff, and Boz Scaggs to name a few.

Considered by his peers to be in that elite class of guitar players, Ellis brings incredible musicianship to the stage and will occasionally take the lead singer role.

Walker is the singer/songwriter of the pair and does most of the lead vocals.

Besides the basic ingredients of impressive musicianship and vocals, Ellis and Walker differentiate themselves from the field with their unique arrangements. When going to see Tim and Jim, expect the unexpected.

Halfway through Loggins and Messina’s “You Need a Man”, they may take a hard left into the signature riff of “Smoke on the Water” which completely catches you off guard, and then return to where they left off on “You Need a Man.” Right about the time you’re saying to the person sitting next to you “Now that was cool”, they do it again, only this time with “Stairway to Heaven.”

It completely disrupts any attempt you were having at a conversation because you feel compelled to pay attention for fear of missing what’s coming next.

Customers appreciate the way Ellis and Walker complement each other. Wayne Wischman, a regular at Haydens who estimates he’s seen Tim and Jim 50 times comments, “The chemistry just works and the sound is great. Jim gets to focus on his strong suit – singing, and Tim gets to let loose with free reign on creative guitar solos.”

Scattered throughout the evening they will perform a smattering of Walker’s originals, which in many cases are just as familiar to the regulars as the cover songs.

Walker’s lyrics are full of imagery. Sometimes dark, at times irreverent, and occasionally humorous, his songs succeed at connecting with a feeling or memory, often bringing back that anti-establishment sentiment from the ’60s.

Explains Walker, “I try to put you in a mood when I write. The imagery is to help my songs be like a cool movie you remember. The irreverence comes from childhood experiences and growing up questioning authority.”

Walker is indifferent to commercial success with his songwriting, though singles like “Empty Emily” and “Feet in my Shoes” are crowd favorites at Hayden’s and have done well by word of mouth and exposure on the Internet.

Ellis stands out as an accomplished guitar player in performance but is perhaps better known around Portland as the guy you go to if you want a top studio musician on your CD. As co-owner of Kung Fu Bakery Recording Studio, he’s well-positioned to tap into his strong suit — recording.

Walker notes, “The best thing about working with Tim in the studio is that he can hear a song once and nail the second guitar part on the first or second take. He has a gift for hear it, play it.”

Ellis frequently records and performs with other well known Portland area musicians such as Craig Carothers, Tom Grant, Mary Kadderly, Michael Allen Harrison, and John Nilsen.

While completely content with what they are doing now, Ellis and Walker confess their dream project would be to get involved with “a cool film with a real budget.” Both grew up in Los Angeles and have connections with the movie industry.

For those who have experienced the cozy confines of Hayden’s, it’s easy to understand why the duo’s popularity creates a bit of a challenge for the staff. The lounge is frequently jam-packed from start to finish on Friday and Saturday evenings.

“Our phones start ringing about Wednesday with calls from customers wondering if Tim and Jim will be performing this weekend”, said General Manager Jeff Munden.

For Walker and Ellis, the appeal is the freedom to be creative in a live setting and the free reign owner Bill Hayden gives them. “It’s very collaborative”, said Ellis.   “We work with Bill, not for him. Our interests run parallel. We understand the goal is to provide a great experience for customers.”

Munden points out, “The advantage of Hayden’s is that it provides top talent in the suburbs in a smoke-free environment with no cover charge.”

For local residents, let’s face it we’re spoiled. The talent to play much bigger venues exists.

“I’ve never liked being under the microscope” admits Walker. “Somehow hanging out with big names separates you from the people you really want to be close to.”

“I just want to get up every morning and be excited about what’s on the schedule for today”, added Ellis.

For now, Tualatin area residents can take advantage of some extraordinary live music close to home, but it does beg the question from a familiar Billy Joel tune:

“… they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar

And say, man, what are you doin’ here?”

God in the classroom

(Soapbox to the Tualatin Times many moons ago)

A wise man once said, “Be careful about what you wish for, it could come true.” A recent letter to the editor “God needed in school more than a survey” suggests that our kids would be better off if only we could revert to the days when God was ever-present in our classrooms.

Of course, the first question is, which God? God as in the Jewish God of Abraham? God as in the trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost? God as described by the prophet Joseph Smith? The “Jehovah” I’ve read about in The WatchTower? Allah as experienced by the prophet Mohammed?

In her best selling book, A History of God, respected historian and former Catholic nun Karen Armstrong talks about how man’s idea of God has evolved from a pluralistic form to the modern-day monotheistic God at the time of Abraham and Jacob. Jacob, ever a pragmatist, cut a deal with the God “El”. In exchange for much-needed protection, Jacob agreed to worship El as the one and only God that mattered. Is this the God we’re talking about?

We have a cross-section of all of these belief systems right here in Tualatin. Surely someone who would suggest God be re-instated back into the classroom would want to be inclusive of their neighbor’s belief system.   How do we do this? About the closest I’ve seen to a common denominator is the term Higher Power, but I suspect few would be satisfied with this watered-down description of God.

Since the very definition of God it is a hard question, I’m in favor of using a little class time to explore what each of us means when we say the word, God. In fact, while we’re at it let’s expose our kids to the concepts behind a variety of belief systems so they can make an informed choice.

There would be many benefits to a comparative religion study in public classrooms. Jews, Muslims and Christians might gain an appreciation for each other’s point of view and stop killing each other.

Kids would get the opportunity to do some critical thinking as they form their own belief system. As a parent of 3 kids, above all else, I value giving my kids honest answers to their questions. They’ve come up with some whoppers over the years that are tough for me to deal with because I have more questions than answers myself. If God set up the universe as an experiment, and then gave us free will so he could then reward the faithful, couldn’t he have chosen an experiment that didn’t include so much human suffering?   If God is all-powerful and all-knowing, then he has both the knowledge that there will be suffering and the power to prevent it but chooses not to. Why is this? Eve takes a bite of the forbidden fruit and the price imposed by God is a human sacrifice? Sounds like sort of a vindictive God to me. Are you sure this whole thing isn’t just a cruel joke to get me to behave the way you want?

Talking serpents, plural marriage, child sacrifices, Jonah inside the belly of a whale for 3 days and living to tell about it? Virgin births, rising from the dead, purgatory, life beyond the grave, cannibalistic themes like “eat his body, drink his blood”? The salacious story of Sodom and Gomorrah. I’m having a hard time telling the difference between the Old Testament, a Stephen King novel, and Greek mythology.

Should the knowledge of the 1st century be considered the infallible truth of the 21st? Didn’t Nicolas Copernicus teach us anything about questioning the puerile beliefs of our time?

I see it as a dangerous practice to ascribe literal truth to a compendium of writings drafted over many centuries by scores of different authors with vastly different agendas and perspectives. I find it ironic that those who hold that God belongs in the classroom are usually the same people trying to keep Harry Potter out of the school library.

It’s clear a lot of good has occurred in this world due by people who have a strong faith in God. Unfortunately, history also has recorded the atrocities of The Crusades, the Israeli Palestinian conflict, the IRA in Northern Ireland, and Al Qaeda to name a few, all in the name of God.

When kids ask hard questions about God, instead of giving the usual hand wave answers (my favorite eye-roller is “God didn’t want us to be robots so he gave us free will”), sometimes I find the best answer I can come up with is “That’s a great question but a tough question, so I won’t pretend to have the answer for you at this time.”   Being a parent does not somehow make me an authority figure on God. But I do get to decide if my approach will be rationalism, which seeks to reach the heart through the head, or theology, which seeks to reach the head through the heart.

Whether we like to admit it or not, most of us inherited our belief system from our families. We did no study of belief systems followed by the process of making an objective choice. Someone we trusted made that choice, and in many cases, at infancy. Growing up we were allowed to ask a few questions, but as the questions got harder to answer, instead of admitting they don’t really know, the people responsible for our faith development fell back on that age-old tactic that gets ‘em every time: Fear of eternal damnation.

When you’re an impressionable grade-schooler, the idea of eternity in a place like hell is a tough thing to get past. Perhaps this is why many children just adopt the belief system that’s been browbeaten into their psyche and move on.

I admire many people who have a strong faith in God, especially those who walk the talk. But it’s been my observation that those in favor of re-instating God back in public schools are the same ones who would be marching down to the principal’s office if teachers were to engage kids in a conversation about God and find out the teacher’s definition of God doesn’t match theirs precisely. Perhaps this is why public schools avoid the issue altogether. They can’t win no matter what they do.

In any case, spending classroom time on the subject of God is fine by me.

Compassion

(This was a soapbox to the Tualatin times many moons ago)

Compassion: “Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with a wish to relieve it.” (American Heritage Dictionary).

We often confuse ‘compassion’ with sympathy or pity. Compassion is really sympathy-plus. If we are compassionate, we not only sense and care about someone else’s pain or misfortune, we take action to mitigate or remove it.

When former-President Bill Clinton said “I feel your pain,” he was not being compassionate, because he did little, if anything to lessen the pain.

The current president, George W. Bush, gained substantial mileage on the campaign trail with the oxymoronic expression “compassionate conservative.” The word ‘conservative’ connotes ‘respect for tradition or the traditional order.’ Since the traditional order, the status quo, consigns tens of millions of Americans to poverty, inadequate medical care, lousy nutrition, despair, and few means for self help, compassion could not fit. To relieve or eliminate suffering requires change, the very thing conservatism stands against.

But even conservatism is misapplied here. “W” and his followers do want change; they wish to unravel what’s left of the New Deal and its implicit social contract. They are reactionaries bent on disestablishing Social Security, the minimum wage, government regulation, the capital gains tax – if not all taxes. Meanwhile, there’s not a weapons program they would not fund, a place too sacred for oil exploration, or a police force that’s too small. Their “traditional order” would include: even more prisoners (managed by private corporations, of course), more prayer, more environmental destruction, more school testing, more dead convicts, more counter-terrorism, more enemies, and a single exception to a prohibition on human cloning – more John Ashcrofts.

On a personal level, we the privileged, the ones with a house in The Burbs on a cul-de-sac may think of ourselves as compassionate people but we don’t often show it.   We’re not compassionate, just sympathetic, and then only when it’s convenient. We worry about sprawl, traffic congestion, and the cell tower going in across the street. We address these issues after we’ve washed the SUV, swept out the garage, and spent our working hours reading and writing e-mails. We rarely ponder our existence or question the status quo.

If there is a God and He/She/It has a standard for compassion, then I suspect someday we’ll be asked to reconcile our personal, religious, and political beliefs and make some sense out of it all. To effectively align our beliefs with our actions, we need to work harder at seeing through the smoke screens, especially on the campaign trails. Probably worth thinking about the next time someone tries to convince you he or she is worthy of office because they proudly wear the label “compassionate conservative.”

Trial of the century

Geraldo did cover, the long murder trial
Marcia had evidence, that stretched for a mile
He showed his true colors, right there on the tube
A cop named Mark Furman, a racist, a boob

They’re trying to frame him, this is an attack
The cops just don’t like him, because he is black
He couldn’t have been there, arthritis was failin’
They even tried using, his pal Kato Kaelin

She proved he’s a liar, a phony, a loser
Dishonest, a failure, an excessive boozer
Disgraceful, a cheater, a harmful drug user
The infamous suspect, a spousal abuser

Nicole’s blood on his things, and more than a trace
Inside his white Bronco, all over the place
With science on her side, what could they say?
How to explain it? ‘Twas his DNA

Surely they had him, no doubt they would win
This man they call O.J., was guilty as sin
In talk shows they said it, in papers they wrote
To all it was clear, that he slit her throat

Some days were real long, some ended in fury
For more than a year, said Ito, “No hurry”
They did all they could, now O.J. should worry
It took them 3 hours, an impatient jury

But this is in L.A., a different type place
It’s not about guilt, it’s all about race
Freedom will come, it is in the cards
If you’ve got deep pockets, and 2000 yards

They read us the verdict, we couldn’t believe
They said it “not guilty,” he got his reprieve
Outrageous conclusion, the jury conceived
The Browns and the Goldmans, they suddenly grieved

To all those who watched, the verdict seemed weird
For families of victims, the nightmare they feared
On national TV, their eyes were all teared
What bothers me most? The thousands that cheered

A nation that cheers, for spousal abuse
In this guy’s opinion, there ain’t no excuse
Whether you call him, “O.J.” or “Juice”
He don’t need no golf club, but does need a noose

Count the vote

(I wrote this in late 2000 and thought it might make a good addition to this blog)

                       Count the Vote!

Alas with pen and paper near, the yearly anecdote

Pondering the reasons why they wouldn’t count the vote…

 

Eight years of prosperity and peace across the land

Why we’d change the horse mid-stream is hard to understand

Al Gore served his country well, since he was but a lad

“W” sold his baseball team so he could be like dad

 

Both campaigned for Clinton’s job, which one should I pick?

The nation’s leading Patriot or maybe Mr. Thick?

Seniors need prescription drugs and worry ‘bout their health

Cut the tax to help the rich or should we share the wealth?

 

Election Day, the heat is on, the networks cannot stall

It is Al or is it George? Or just too close to call?

Bernie gives the race to Bush, Gore is in a bind

I guess you win, George. I concede. Hold it, never mind!

 

Confusion lurks in West Palm Beach, where voters aren’t so spry

What’s meant for Al went straight to Pat, thanks to butterfly

Machines save time in counting votes, we trust that they’ll be fair

But if the margin of the race is less than that of error?

 

Bush enjoys a narrow lead for Al it looks remote

Jackson marches, Baker whines, Gore says “Count the Vote”

Count the ballots, shine the light, see it’s not so bad

Bush’s biggest worry now – that dreaded hanging chad

 

Chads with dimples, pregnant chads, chads with but a dent

Watch the judges do their best to help discern intent

A month goes by, still no Pres., market takes a dive

All the channels speculate but most of this is jive

 

Sanders Sauls hears the case Richards beats out Boies

Luckily four justices decide to make some noise

Katherine Harris, public servant, loyal to G-Dub

Certified a bogus count, but really, here’s the rub

 

What’s fair is fair the judges say, read this and I quote

“The underlying principle is simply Count the Vote”

The high court rules and complicates a convoluted web

Bush says if you count the vote I’ll tell my brother Jeb

 

The high court rules to stop the count, talk about a crime

Now they say they’d like to count but there just isn’t time

Ironic Bush would call upon the power of the Fed

Contradicts his own state’s laws and all that stuff he said

 

Maybe it was destiny, for Bush to get the win

The jury’s out but time will tell us, if the fix was in

If justice is alive and well there’s one thing that’s for sure

Gore will be the Chief Exec in year 2004