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17 June 2005

I'm a Yanqui Dufus Doo-Doo

From now on, if you should chance to send me e-mail and I should chance to REPLY, and it is your preference that this NOT BE POSTED ON YOUR FUCKING BLOG FOR EVERY FUCKING BULGARIAN IN INTERNET CAFE SOFIA TO READ U ASSHAT, let us pre-arrange to use This Secret Code, entre-nous, just we two will ever know what this Secret Code means:


I will know what that means. And I will happily and fully respect your wishes. That is The Way of Vleeptron. And that has been The Way of Vleeptron since last week.

Meanwhile, if you are UnitedStatesOfAmericarian, you may not remember all the words of the wonderful happy genocidal pscyhopathic violent patriotic song "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy" by the wonderful happy patriotic perverted genocidal psychopathic violent star of Vaudeville, the legitimate stage, and silent movies (where the poor man had to mime his Vaudeville act -- tough challenge, but he was up to it!), George M. Cohan, but you know the tune, you can never forget that tune, starting in pre-school they played you this song four or five times a year and never let up until you escaped from the public schools. Also frequent rebroadcasts of "Yankee Doodle Dandy," the stirring, wonderful, inspiring patrotic psychopathic etc. life story of George M. Cohan, starring James Cagney on any of the Turner cable channels. Shown repeatedly on The Fourth of July / The Rebel Picnic, a continuous marathon of just that fine patriotic perverted psychopathic etc.

(Cohan is Irish not Jewish. If you'd like the name of a
wonderful happy universally beloved patriotic perverted genocidal psychopathic violent Jewish star of Vaudeville, the legitimate stage, etc., we got those, e-mail moi, I give you a name or three. [Also violent psycho Jewish gangsters feared by Italian-American gangsters, and some great besbol players.] Then you can post it on your blog, with my name, and that would be fine, I won't cut your xnrqq off.)

But this is not that song.

The tune is that tune. (See, that makes it easy for you to sing along, you already know the tune!)

This is a song I wrote for my friend whose birthday is Flag Day, an important patriotic etc. holiday (but not important enough to close the banks). And that is all I can say about my friend. Except that he's a veteran. If he wants to say more about himself, or if he just wants to cut my xnrqq off, he is always, always welcome to Leave a Comment, as are all visitors to Vleeptron.

I wrote this Original Song -- the words, anyway, they are All New, nobody has ever written These Song Words ever before, and to prove it, I write right here:

Text and Lyrics
Copyright © 2005 Robert B. Merkin
All Rights Reserved

... okay okay I wrote this Original Song on AMTRAK Train 66, the northbounder that DEPARTED from Track K 26 at 22:00 Wednesday 15 June 2005 out of DC Union Station, bound for New Haven CT, where it arrived three minutes before 04:55 Thursday 16 June 2005. AMTRAK Train 66 -- the Air-Conditioned Nightmare. Do the math. AMTRAK is an acronym for Government Conspiracy From The Kremlin and the Axis of Evil and CSM To Kill All Passenger Rail Service in America and Kill Many Passengers Too and Make Everyone Hate Trains So They'll Fly Instead.

I don't care. Bring it on. Let's rock n roll. Gonna keep on ridin' them trains. The more brutal and punitive you make it, AMTRAKboy, the more the CLUB CAR OUT OF SERVICE, the more there's only one working toilet for 291 people when the air-conditioner breaks down on a scorcher through the industrial areas of Delaware and New Jersey in August, the longer you don't fix the fucking Accela
©™® and Put It Back In Service, the more I'm gonna keep payin' you to ride your mankiller, womankiller, childkiller, babykiller, standard-poodle-in-a-carrierkiller trains. Shut the heat off from Springfield MA to Buffalo NY overnight on 23 December -- but please book me a sleeping compartment, thank you. I was afraid you might not have one available and I really want to ride AMTRAK from Springfield MA to Buffalo NY just in time for Christmas.

If it's a train, I'll ride it. Euro trains still best, wonderful, wunderbar, unglaublich, zauberlich, Tres Grande Vitesse, ICE-o-Schnellst-a-Tomik, supercallifragialisticexpialodocious, even UK trains.

Canadian VIA trains -- they have learned from us, they are it's-sucking their passenger trains bigtime a la Yanquoise. Kill the Canadian Passenger Trains. Kill that fucking upper-deck scenic vista glass observation car through the Canadian Rockies immediately, what a fucking geezer relic from The Saturday Evening Post.

There is a train you can take through the winding terrifying mountain Labyrinth of Mexico's Copper Canyon. Find that, GoogleGrrl. Don't forget to Come Right Back Here.

I have ridden in the Non-VIA locomotive in the wilderness deep in the Saskatchewan night, special guest of Engineers Dennis and Dennis, and I have Blown The Horn at the at-grade highway crossing. And you haven't.

DENNIS: You've never seen the Aurora?


DENNIS: Well, there it is. That's your Aurora. That's your Northern Lights.

(Long silence.)


DENNIS: Everywhere. In that direction. Look over there.

(Long silence.)

BACKPACK BOB: There? Over those trees? Is that it?

DENNIS: What's it look like?

BACKBACK BOB: I don't know ... hard to see it, exactly. Is it blue?

DENNIS: Yep, you got it, allright. It's blue. There's your Aurora.


Fifty kilometers south of Churchill MAN I watched as the brakeman (probably not named Dennis) threw the manual switch to switch the track so we could go backwards a little down a special siding, then switch the track manually again so we could be heading the right way for the last leg of the 2.5-day (much too short) trip from Winnipeg. Or for some very similar and necessary 1928 wilderness train-related purpose; you'll have to ask Dennis or Dennis or the brakeman to explain it, or consult Technical Map of Rail System of Canada, if you can find it. It would be nice if someone put it on the Web, so I could look at it a lot. Flash is the right display technology for that map. Zoom. LRUD Arrows. I rode that train with the ghost of Glenn Gould, it was his favorite train, he talks about it for hours on his radio documentary "The Idea of North." The whole trip, I could not wipe that big-ass grin off the dead guy's face.

Having not much to do for the 14-hour excursion on The Air Conditioned Nightmare, (the car behind mine smelled like farts and b.o. bigtime, very ripe smell, around 03:30 16 June), I took out my little Staples 39-cent spiral notebook and my blue PenTel EnerGel pen, and I wrote this song for my anonymous pal.

This is the most famous and beloved patriotic song on Vleeptron. Many students of the cultural and political nuances of Vleeptron believe this song most perfectly and completely captures and expresses the feelings of all Vleeptroids about their beloved Planet Vleeptron.

I'm a Yanqui Dufus Doo-Doo

words: jameskpolka
(really Robert B. Merkin)
music: George M. Cohan

I'm a Yanqui Dufus Doo-Doo
A Yanqui Dufus Doo-Doo Drrrrrrrrrrrr
A second cousin of my Great-Aunt Sue
Born on the Fourteenth of June

I've got a Yanqui Dufus Partner
Eats the inside of my thigh
Oh Yanqui Dufus Stole a Hummer ©™®
Just to suk a Pizza
I raq a Yanqui Dufus Ford
©™® .

Thank you for singing along. And my friend really appreciated that you sang his favorite Birthday Song, whenever he's visiting Vleeptron on his birthday. We always cook him up a big heapin' mess of his favorite zlübt in the convection oven for his birthday.


I sang this with my bestest friends in Alice Deal Junior High School, it is a Genuine Authentic Certified Kids' Greatest Hit. You know the tune. You better know the tune.

God Bless My Underwear

God Bless My Underwear
My Only Pair
Stand Beside Them
And Guide Them
Through the Washer and Dryer with Care
Through the Washer
And the Dryer
To the Ironing Board
White with Hair!
God Bless My Underwear
My Only Pair
God Bless My Underwear
My Only Pair

Another version, suitable for singing by Boy Scouts around a campfire made by Boy Scouts (MIDI here):

God bless my underwear, my only pair.
Stand beside them, and guide them,
Through the rips, through the holes, through the tears.
From the washer, to the dryer, to the clothesline in the air.
God bless my underwear, my only pair.


Lazy Mary, you better get up
She answers back: "I am not able."
Lazy Mary, you better get up
We need the sheets for the table!


Blogger Kat said...

Your an interesting person Has anyone told you that???

Blogger Bob Merkin said...


Blogger Bob Merkin said...

You like my song?

Call Harriet and tell her her bestest school friend Bobby wants to see her again. She doesn't have to go to the Reunion, I probably ain't going (unless they agree to all my demands about the women).


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