Please accept this parody of "Ya Got Trouble" from The Music Man as a tribute (of sorts) to the birthers, who never fail to entertain.
For those of you under a certain age, The Music Man is well worth the time to watch.
Mockery; when reason fails.
Orly:
Well, either you're closing your eyes
To a situation you do not wish to acknowledge
Or you are not aware of the caliber of disaster indicated
By the presence of a Kenyan in your community.
Ya got trouble, my friend, right here,
I say, trouble right here in America.
Why sure I'm a freeper poster,
Certainly mighty proud I say
I'm always mighty proud to say it.
I consider that the hours I spend
With a mouse in my hand are golden.
Help you cultivate horse sense
And a cool head and a keen eye.
Ever take and try to give
An iron-clad leave to yourself
From a half-baked Photoshop?
But just as I say,
It takes judgement, brains, and maturity to score in a slander game,
I say that any noob kin take
And check a fact with a Wiki.
And we call that sloth.
The first big step on the road
To the depths of deg-ra-Day--
I say, first, prenatal care from a clinic,
Then scans from a hospital.
An' the next thing ya know,
Your son is pimpin' for heath care
In a pinch-back suit.
And list'nin to some big Hawaiian Jasper
Hearin' him tell about mixed-race birthin'.
Not a wholesome Southrn' race, no!
But a race where they mingle in our White House!
Like to see some stuck-up jockey'boy Sittin' in Air Force One? Make your blood boil?
Well, I should say.
Friends, lemme tell you what I mean.
Ya got one, two, three, four, five, six papers on a table.
Papers that mark the diff'rence
Between a gentlemen and a punk,
With a capital "P,"
And that rhymes with "B" and that stands for Birth!
And all week long your American
Youth'll be frittern away,
I say your young men'll be frittern!
Frittern away their noontime, suppertime, choretime too!
Gettin’ into Harvard,
Never mind gittin' shotguns oiled
Or the Klan hood patched or the migrants pounded.
Never mind pumpin' any diesel
'Til your parents are caught with the pickup empty
On a Saturday night and that's trouble,
Oh, yes we got lots and lots a' trouble.
I'm thinkin' of the kids wearing Oshkosh B’gosh,
Shirt-tail young ones, peekin' in the White House window after school, look, folks!
Right here in America.
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "B" and that stands for Birth!
Now, I know all you folks are the right kinda parents.
I'm gonna be perfectly frank.
Would ya like to know what kinda conversation goes on while they're loafin' around that place?
They're swearing' out Baucus, wearin' out Pelosi,
Tryin' out Kool menthols like Cigarette Feends!
And braggin' all about
How they're gonna cover up Gov’mnt rule with secret camps.
One fine night, they leave the White House, Headin' for a meet at the Capital!
Liberal men and Pro-Choice women!
And Acorn, shameless Libs
They'll grab your son and your daughter
With the arms of a jungle animal instink!
Mass-staria!
Friends, the idle brain is the devil's playground!
People:
Trouble, oh we got trouble,
Right here in America!
With a capital "T"
That rhymes with "B"
And that stands for Birth,
That stands for Birth.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in America,
Right here!
Get the Nigra out the way
To keep the young ones moral after school!
Trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble, trouble...
Orly:
Mothers of America!
Heed the warning before it's too late!
Watch for the tell-tale sign of corruption!
The moment your son leaves the house,
Does he remove the Rush tie you gave for Christmas?
Is there a Prirus poster above his bed?
A Latte Grande hidden in the closet?
Is he starting to memorize jokes from The Daily Show?
Are certain words creeping into his conversation?
Words like "Hope?"
And "how’s your insurance?"
Well, if so my friends,
Ya got trouble,
Right here in America!
With a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "B"
And that stands for Birth.
We've surely got trouble!
Right here in America!
Remember Bill Clinton, Vince Foster and that Hillary care!
Oh, we've got trouble.
We're in terrible, terrible trouble.
That game with the two birth announcements is a devil's tool!
Oh yes we got trouble, trouble, trouble!
With a "T"! Gotta rhyme it with "B"!
And that stands for Birth!!!