Waxing Patriotic at the Mall

I spent this hellishly hot afternoon sitting in a mall, while my daughter shopped for an elementary school graduation dress and, against her matriculation next September at a local high school, dress-code-compliant schoolwear. (I wonder: does the shop call itself Charlotte Russe, because the merchandise is apple-pan dowdy?) From time to time, through the Merkel of Cellular Telephony, I was summoned by Herself to attend at this or that shop, there to act the part of exchequeur.

In the meantime, in between time, I bent my mind to a parody of Irving Berlin's Steppin' Out With My Baby. It did not turn out as conceived--not by a jugful. The following is a roughed-out version, which I'll tweak at my leisure:

If I seem to be irate,
It's because we gravitate
Toward never-ending war,
À la 1984.

We thought 9/11
Could not happen here,
But on 9/11,
We caved in to fear.
We're

Stampin' out all the Arabs--
Plottin' stings, and launchin' probes--
Plantin' bugs (call 'em "scarabs").
From now on, we're xenophobes.

Stampin' out foreign leaders--
Velvet glove and iron hand.
(Try to blame Newsweek readers,
When things don't go quite as planned.)

We'll make dam' certain the deck's properly stacked,
With a new Soviet--oops! Patriot--Act.

Stampin' out all dissension--
Novel thoughts are in our sights.
By the way--did I mention?
We don't need no Bill o' Rights--

We don't need no stinkin' Bill o' Rights!

Lyric © 2005 Nathaniel DesH. Petrikov