This is an elegy I cowrote (thank you, Don McLean) or perhaps to put more accurately stole (sorry, Don McLean) to my latest diary that I wrote and offered up yesterday morning. I wrote it Thursday night and went to bed dreaming of sugar plum fairies sprinkling recommend dust that with each sparkle polished my apple a more rosy shade of red.
I finished writing it at half past one AM and set my alarm for 6:30 so that I could get the East KOSters before they left for work. After publishing it at the appointed hour I went back to bed for a quick catnap smiling with the smug assurance of Paris Hilton (albeit without the accompanying vacuity) How many recommends would I get? Could I achieve the the vaunted recommended diaries the first time? Would I use my newly found fame to promote peace, love, and understanding or would I become a jaded cynical Wildean? Well either way works for me, I thought.
I jumped up at eight o'clock from my catnap with restless anticipation eager to bathe in the utter glory of my own being. I looked at the Recommended Diaries - nope, not there. Well, I just refreshed my window - nope, still not there. So I scanned the newly created diaries - there it was 4th from the bottom. zero recommends, zero comments, zero votes in the poll, bubkis, nada, nil, zilch, goose eggs, a shit sandwich.
"It's just like the barber said: NEXT!" the Daily Kos Nation had spoken. I could heard the sound of a whoopee cushion expiring while Pop Goes the Weasel was playing and that clown doll laughed and laughed like at the end of Sleuth. I gathered what remained of my shattered ego and realized that my diary had died. And an Eleanor Rigby death to boot.
"I will never write another word for these ungrateful hoogley-doogleys" I thought (which is actually meaningless but sounds really awful). "As God is my witness I will never diary again" I thought and shook my fist skyward toward an imaginary foe in a cartoonish way.
"But then," I shifted in that way that is the mark of really bad writing, "That would only give them the satisfaction of being totally oblivious to my suffering." So I wrote this new diary and accompanying song and I don't even care if nobody reads it. Uh huh, sure, yeah, so...(quickly glances at watch) uh...gotta get going-good luck-nice stuff-gotta talk to a man about a horse-see ya (door slam)
The Day My Diary Died
A long, long time ago
I can still remember
how the blah blah used to make me smile
‘cause I knew if I wrote my rants
And I put itch powder in our pants
That D-KOS would be irritated for a while
While February made me shiver
By November we were all aquiver
Good news on the telly
And fire in our bellies
I can’t remember if I cried
When I opened it and looked inside
But not a comment: hair nor hide
The day my diary died
So my, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
Did you link to the tag above?
Would dangle the participle of
If Armando told you so?
Did you see the Netroots grow?
Did you contribute all your dough?
And would you mind if asked you for some mo’?
Well I know we’re stuck out on a limb
Get out the vote and sing a hymn
You know you’ve paid your dues
With the holes in all your shoes
I was a lonely middleaged Democrat
With a balding head and chicken fat
And I really wasn’t where it’s at
The day my diary died
I started singing
my, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
For six years we’ve been on our own
To bash Bush and the Red State clones
But that’s not how it’s going to be
When Tester won we began to sing
The strategy was from Howard Dean
And the pundits opened up their eyes to see
When the Decider turned around
The Tester’s coming into town
The Senate was adjourned
Because Makaka wasn’t returned
While Karl Rove whistled like a lark
And Rumsfeld prepared to debark
W drank alone in the dark
The day my diary died
We were singing
my, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
Jim Talent’s last will, Claire McKaskill
Rush looks for Viagra pills
Two inches long and fading faaaaaast
Limbaugh falls upon his ass
Bill Cristal’s house is broken glass
‘cause Tester looks like he’s gonna paaaaass
The White House word was gloom and doom
The press corps pushed out of the room
We all got up to dance
Because Jim Webb he’s got a chance
Lincoln Chaffee’s fate was sealed
Makaka Allen refused to yield
The country’s wounds began to heal
The day my diary died
We started singing
my, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
Oh and there we were all in one place
Santorum just lost his race
The House is going blue again
So hear Dick be nimble, Dick be slick
Little Dick shot a country hick
Cause the hick was Little Dick’s only friend
Reporters wrote words upon the page
W blinked in tics of rage
Dick’s half smile rose and fell
Doyle Brunson says it’s a tell
And as the Dem’s climbed high into the night
Nancy Pelosi rose to recite
"We have not yet begun to fight"
The day my diary died
She was singing
my, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I saw Bill O’Reilly of Fox News
And I asked if he would state his views
But Bill just snarled and flipped me off
So I went down to the local bar
And sang a protest against the war
And the crowd all hollered loud until they coughed
In the bar Democrats all screamed
W cried while Karl Rove schemed
Not a word unspoken
Senate deadlock had been broken
And to the two men I admire most
Howard Dean and Harry Reid I give a toast
They hitched a ride upon the Kos
The day my diary died
And they were singing
My, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried
They were singing
My, my - I feel so empty inside
Wrote my opinion, checked the minions
But they read Dood Abides
To be or not to be - you know, I just can’t decide
Think I’ll wipe away the tears that I cried