Golden Coins

Since Christmastime is upon us, many homeowners are decorating their homes with festive lights. Of course, Objectivist Morrissey, being a devotee of PURE REASON, has no truck with such fripperies and frivolities. There are no Christmas trees cheerfully illuminating the Gulch, kiddo... golden lights can't cheer up Objectivist Morrissey, but he's not against gold by any stretch of the imagination:


Golden coins, displaying my worth
Golden coins, I'm best man on Earth
Scorning poor folks
Gives me much mirth.

One in a million, a John Galt, a big boss
How dare you question my profit and your loss?
How dare you question my greed,
When it's much more noble than your need

Golden coins, displaying my worth
Golden coins, I'm best man on Earth
Scorning poor folks
Gives me much mirth.

I made my money, wheeling, dealing,
You, stupid moocher, accuse me of stealing.
Your regulations are raising my hackles,
They bind me surer than shackles.

Golden coins, displaying my worth
Golden coins, I'm best man on Earth
Scorning poor folks
Gives me much mirth.

Top tier titan, capital kingpin.
I seek the truth, Jack, with pure reason.
You hate my brains, and my guts, my success.
Your envy causes such distress.

Golden coins, displaying my worth
Golden coins, I'm best man on Earth
Scorning poor folks
Gives me much mirth.


This is a spoof of Golden Lights which featured vocals by the late, great
Kirsty MacColl (of course, she sang the female lead on the Greatest Christmas Song Ever, and I really have to do a future post on her and another one on her dad, folksinger Ewan MacColl, who- I did not know this- wrote First Time Ever I Saw Your Face, one of Roberta Flack's signature songs).

The song Golden Lights was originally recorded by 60's teen pop pixie Twinkle:





Cross posted, as always, at the mothership.

Dagny, Take a Hike

Hey folks, here's Dagny, Take a Hike, the latest from Objectivist Morrissey:


Is it wrong to want to keep what you've got?
Ayn Rand would tell you, “Surely not!”
How can this world be just
When lice aren't shot?

Dagny, take a- Dagny, take a hike.
Stop the wheels of the world in their tracks, dear.
And don't produce tonight,
Go Galt and find the one that you love and who loves you.
The one that you love and who loves you


Is it wrong to hate your lessers, my dear?
No it's not wrong, so have no fear.
Leave them all in your dust,
Your way is clear!


Dagny, take a- Dagny, take a hike.
Stop the wheels of the world in their tracks, dear.
And don't produce tonight,
Go Galt and find the one that you love and who loves you.
The one that you love and who loves you.

Find my gulch and disappear.
La la la la la la la la.
Throw your blueprints onto the fire.
Come out and find the one that you love!


I have an an additional verse, but it would throw off the flow of the song:


Is it wrong to scorn the weak and the poor?
Ayn Rand would tell you "No!", I'm sure.
How could you be so rich, if you aren't pure?


For those of you unfamiliar with The Smiths, this song is a spoof of Sheila, Take a Bow:





Cross posted in slightly different form at my usual haunts.

Objectivist Morrissey Didn't Go Galt

Back when I did my bizarre 24 posts in 24 hours postapalooza, I debuted the "character" of Objectivist Morrissey, a Bizarro World Morrissey who was a huge fan of Ayn Rand. Objectivist Morrissey appealed to me so much that I thought he merited his own blog. It's been a while since I've revisited the guy, mainly because real-world Morrissey can be just as horrible as his parallel universe doppelgänger. I can't stay mad forever, especially if it gets in the way of a good joke, so Objectivist Morrissey is coming back from the gulch.


Cross posted in slightly different form at my usual haunts.

Task Me

Heartland Heartthrob Truculent and Unreliable (she doesn't cop to being devious, but if she tells you that whitewashing her fence* is a heap of fun, be skeptical!) requested that I tackle Ask in a comment in a previous post. Without further ado, here's my take on one of the most unabashedly "poppy" Smiths tunes:


Kindness is vice, and kindness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to.
Kindness is vice, and kindness can stop you
From doing all the things in life you'd like to.

So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye"
So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye."
If you task me, I'll say, "Sod off and die!"

Sharing's a vice, and sharing will stop you
From grabbing all things that this world owes you.

So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye"
So if you're mooching, I'll say "Goodbye."
If you task me, I'll say, "Go, sod off and die!"

Spending warm summer days indoors,
Writing godawful prose, to an angsty teenage misanthrope.

Task me, task me, task me!
Task me, task me, task me!

Here in this gulch...
It is our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn
Our scorn that will bring use together.

Reason is a virtue, so is greed.
Reason is a virtue, so is greed.

You task me, task me, task me!
Task me, task me, task me!

Here in this gulch...
It is our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn, our scorn
Our scorn that will bring us together.

Here in this gulch,
It is our scorn,
It is our scorn
That will bring us together.

Task me! Task me! Task me!
Task me! Task me! Task me!
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la


Of course, this is a spoof of the single Ask, which was featured on the essential compilation Louder Than Bombs. The original single featured backing vocals by the late, lamented Kirsty MacColl. The song is a pure pop confection, it's uncharacteristic (for the Pope of Mope) chipperness tempered by the very real fear of Mutually Assured Destruction ("If it's not love, then it's The Bomb that will bring us together."). So, for your three minutes of Rand-free pop bliss, here's Ask:






*Heh, "whitewashing the fence"...

Hi, Everybody!

I just checked out the stats, and found that I've had a spike in traffic from mentions on Rumproast and in the comments at Balloon Juice. I have to thank JScottG, who posted the link on Rumproast, and arguingwithsignposts, who linked at Balloon Juice. Thanks, folks, I just hope I provided some amusement for you during these hot, depressing days.

Greenspan Knows I'm Miserable Now

I've embedded some explanatory links into the text of the "song".


I was happy in the haze of polluting power,
But Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.
I was looking for a gulch, and didn't find a gulch,
And Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

In my life, why do I give valuable time,
To people who think tax evasion is a crime?

Two union guys stand, with paychecks in hand,
Now Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

In my life, why do smile,
At moochers who would steal me blind?

I was happy in the haze of polluting power,
But Greenspan knows I'm miserable now.

What Ayn asked of me at the end of the day,
Nathaniel would have blushed.
"You've been with that hag too long," she said,
"And I, I want her dead."

In my life, why do I give valuable time,
To people who think price-gouging's a crime?


A lesser effort, compared to This Randian Man, but one cannot bring one's "A" game every time.

Of course, the song is a spoof of Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now, but an Objectivist invoking heaven would not have been appropriate:

Moocher in a Tutu

In my last post, I noted that JScottG requested that I do Moocher in a Tutu. It would be safe to assume that he would have expected a play on the song Vicar in a Tutu (not to be confused with tuber in a vicar), but that's not how my muse rolls, baby! Here's my hastily written, compliant yet contrarian take on Moocher in a Tutu:


Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.

There are times when I want to murder him,
But the laws of the weak won't let me do him in.

Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.

Do you really think I'll go Galt?
Do you really think I'll go Galt?

Moocher in a tutu, he is,
He is, a parasite.
Guh-guh-guh-guh-guh-guh-gonna go Galt!

There were times that I could have murdered him,
But was stopped by the rules of the weak and the dim.
Would you please let me beat him?

Do you really think I'll go Galt?
Do you really think I'll go Galt
Let my whisper my last goodbyes,
"Go suck it, parasite!"


Of course, this is a parody of Girlfriend in a Coma, which I consider a bit of a lesser effort by The Smiths (it sorely lacks that pure pop jangle of Johnny Marr's guitar). Here's a video for the song, accompanied by images of one of my all-time favorite actresses, the incomparable Dejah Thoris Louise Brooks:






In a previous post at my main blog, I embedded a video for Mojo Nixon's cover of Girlfriend in a Coma, which I actually prefer to the original. Now, if only, I say, if only Foghorn Leghorn had covered the Smiths, it would have been perfect.

Rand Man Strikes Again

Although one of the members of the blogroll at my mothership requested Moocher in a Tutu as my next parody, the nature of inspiration is such that the following came to me in the course of a couple of minutes:


Moocher, moocher I was only joking when I said,
I didn't want you well and truly dead.
Moocher, moocher I was only joking when I said,
Your body shouldn't be filled up with hot lead.

And now I know how Howard Roark felt,
Now I know how Howard Roark felt
As the flames rose, past his upturned nose
As he razed where the moochers now dwelt.

Rand man, ooooohohohaha, Rand man, whoa ho ho ho,
Rand man strikes again,
You've got no right to shackle him,
With your worldview dim.


Of course, Bigmouth Strikes Again is an easy target- much of the song consists of "Ho's and Ha's and Whoa's and La's". That being said, The Fountainhead is an even easier target. Here's a video for Bigmouth Strikes Again, for those not familiar with the original:

This Randian Man

In the course of my 24 posts in 24 hours push, I wrote a post speculating about how The Smiths would have sounded had Morrissey been a hardline Objectivist. This notion has been bouncing around my head for the past couple of weeks (chalk it up to being in a locale with no electricity). Put succinctly, I've had an earworm which was a song which had never been written, so I had to go ahead and finish the damn song:


Mooching parasites, and a tax rate burdensome,
The average working stiff is a bum
But in this hidden gulch, this Randian man.

Why be a slave to guilt and dread,
When the superman's path is the one that you tread?

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."

A titan simply shrugs,
and drops the wicked world,
Leaves moochers to their fate,
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."

This Randian man

A titan simply shrugs,
and drops the wicked world,
Leaves moochers to their fate,
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.
'Cos greed is such a noble trait.


Of course, for those unfamiliar with Monsieur Morrissey and The Smiths (get with the program, hippie! or get offa mah lawn, kid! whichever the case may be), here's the tune that I dragged kicking and screaming into a dry gulch inhabited by sociopaths:





Originally posted at my Blogospheric mothership.

The Post Which Started It All

I was thinking, "What if there were a parallel universe in which Morrissey were a hard-core Objectivist? What if The Smiths were forging rearden metal? What would that sound like?"

I would go Galt tonight, but I haven't got a hidden lair.
Ayn Rand said, "It's gruesome, that such a producer should care."





This post originally appeared at my multi-subject blog.