The Heart of Oblivion

like my grandmother ‘loved’ me, but she also was always trying to change me.  she tried to take me away from my (catholic bisexual) mother.  she made me wear dresses when i was there.  she always tried to get me to go to church and was always asking me if i was dating a boy yet

i spent years feeling guilty that i wasn’t what she wanted me to be until my mom told me one day “she never bothered to know the real you”

and it’s true.  any time i tried to show her something about myself, even cook for her, it would be dismissed, and a replacement would be offered.  even northern food was somehow a sin.  

she loved me what she thought i should be, she never loved me.  

Hit a fascist with a tuba

Hit a fascist with a tuba!

Run like hell and learn to scuba!

Oh Freedom, give him hell!

Oh, I took my ass to DC when that bastard won the vote

With no dignity nor decency nor kindness, not one mote

Well, to make my feelings known to him, my instrument I tote

With plans to raise some hell!

(Chorus)

Well, I found him in the Oval Office pissing on the rug

And he looked at me and sneered as if I were some kind of bug

So I swung my tuba right into his condescending mug

And rang it like a bell.

(Chorus)

The Secret Service showed up ‘bout three seconds after that

They surrounded me and drew their guns and told me to get flat

But like fuck was I about to hit that slimy piss-soaked mat

Or see a prison cell.

(Chorus)

I gripped my dented tuba and I put it to my lips

And I found a certain fingering with questing fingertips

Drew a breath and played the Brown Note and gave Trump the runs and drips

His pants began to smell.

(Chorus)

Well, he stood there looking stupid with his trucker hat askew

With his face all turning purple and the guards all turning blue

As they pinched and held their noses and he shat into his shoe

I turned and ran like hell.

(Chorus)

I made it to the White House walls, climbed over and was free

Stashed the tuba in the branches of the National Christmas tree

Jumped into the slow Potomac and swam southward towards the sea

My plan was going swell.

(Chorus)

Stashed underneath the water was a scuba tank and fins

I sucked air in from the former, strapped the latter to my shins

Ashore they look to see me, but their quarry sinks and grins

Look, Ma, no diving bell!

(Chorus)

I got to shore and changed my clothes and safely came back home

With Trump still fiddling like he’s Emperor of burning Rome

Maybe next I’ll play the bassoon ‘neath the Capitol’s big dome

You bastards, go to Hell!

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Hit a fascist with a tuba!

Run like hell and learn to scuba!

Oh Freedom, give him hell!

Funny and also absolutely true story; earlier this year when I was looking at a 50/50 chance of cancer and was scheduled to get my thyroid yanked out and replaced with meds for the rest of my life, the single most disheartening thing anyone said to me was “it’ll be okay, you’ll just never get to lead a post apocalyptic biker gang when society falls apart”

I was so deeply upset by that prospect that I made the decision on the operating table to only get the half of my thyroid with the tumour removed, at the risk of a cancer diagnosis and a second surgery to get the rest out. As it turned out, I didn’t have cancer, my half thyroid picked up the slack, I don’t need meds, and the doctor congratulated me on my winning gamble.